Obligatory Mt. Washington Trip Report

It wouldn't be a ski season in the Northeast without at least one blue bird, windless day on the ridges of Mt. Washington. That said, here's a quick report from a outing that the Bals and I had a few days ago.

Token summit shot from the north flank of Mt. Monroe.

We began our day at the Irving station at the base of the cog railway. I needed sunblock. The day ahead promised to bring cloudless skies and temps in the valley nearing 50 degrees, and, like several of you out there with fair skin, hair that tends towards the reddish hue, and the ability to hang with the best of the Irish at the pub, I was deeply afraid of my entire face peeling off in the shower that night.

A quick drive to the base of the Cog Railway and the Ammonoosic Ravine trail. We skinned up the first mile of so of it and then turned off the trail in search of the base of the famed Monroe Brook, a line roughly with the same dimensions as Hillman's Highway, located on the seldom traveled north face of Mt. Monroe. After a short spell of combat skinning through the spruce/fir forest we all know and love, we came into an opening, from which the view made the rest of the route finding pretty easy.

Monroe Brook. Our route took us up the lookers left line.

We skinned about half way up Monroe Brook then cramponed the rest. Climbing was casual with good footing and a safe spring snow pack. As we topped out on the climb and arrived in the snowfields, the conditions were just silly. T-shirt weather above tree line in the whites feels great, but there's an unnerving sense about it...like it could change on a dime causing you to quickly cell phone the wife with your last good byes, dig a large hole in the snow, and start considering your cannibalistic potential as your partner draws near.

We crossed the ridge at the Lake of the Clouds hut. We were headed to Oakes Gulf, almost directly opposite the Monroe Brook on the southern flank of Mt. Monroe. Oakes is a classically shaped, incredibly scenic upper alpine bowl between Mt. Washington and Mt. Monroe. It lies just to the West of the Boot Spur ridge, where Hillmans, Dodges Drop, and Dutches all top out. It's a fair bit smaller than tucks, with less vertical to be sure. But it's got its moments, a good supply of steeper turns, and a fraction of the crowds that were undoubtedly clogging tucks that day.

The Bals making his way up and out of Oakes.

Conditions in Oakes were good. The south facing aspect lent itself well to softening and sun burning. Upper turns were firm, then soft and corny, and then even a bit sticky towards the bottom. It was near this time that I suspected that the lady at the Irving station had sold me some bunk ass expired sun block, because I could feel the skin cancer forming my cheeks.

We crested the ridge once more on our way back to Monroe Brook for what was promising to be a very memorable ski. As we arrived back on the north facing aspects, we were reminded why we had used crampons to gain the ridge in the first place. Bah, skis will do the trick on the way down, right? After all, we could see the top of the Monroe Brook and it seemed that the slightly sloping traverse to it would be cake. Holy shit people. Erik and I skied just under 1/2 a mile of the most terrifying frozen chicken head, ice sheet, hard pack, sketchiness I've ever seen. Foot massages were gratis and in good supply.

It was with open arms and numb feet that we arrived back at the drop in point for Monroe Brook. Given the conditions that we'd suffered on the way over too it, we were a bit skeptical. I dove in and upon 2 or 3 turns, was smiling ear to ear. Conditions remained somewhat firm, perhaps 3 degrees away from perfect corn, but hell, it was completely skiable and a damn fine line to be in the middle of.

The drop in point for Monroe Brook. The chute remains 30-50 feet wide for about 1500 vertical feet.

The Bals negotiating his next political move while enjoying his descent of Monroe Brook.

Gittin er dun. Yeah, Monroe Brook sucks. Don't go there. Go to Bretton Woods instead

At the bottom of Monroe Brook, we headed back into the woods for the final leg of combat skiing, which included in no particular order: sketchy open water hazards, poorly blazed trails, rocks that were "almost" covered with snow, and a lot of sweat.

We arrived back at the trail head, dawned the parking lot folding chairs, and sat and smiled for much longer than our significant others probably appreciated. It was a great day in the mountains.

Chrissy and I are just back from a week in the Chic Choc mountains of northern Quebec. We'll have pics and a report in the coming weeks.