CHASING AN ICON: Mt. Shuskan
Last summer, a seemingly harmless photo captured my attention. I had seen images of Mount Shuksan before, but nothing quite like this. A Northwest Icon connected to Mount Baker ski area by the famous Shuksan Arm, the mountain has become one of the most photographed peaks in the world. Drooling at the computer screen, it was destined to make “The List.”
A year later on sunny Friday afternoon, the phone rang. The Northwest’s quiet slayer spoke with excitement, “It’s on! Pick me up tonight at 2am.” Slightly shaken with excitement, I hung up and quickly contacted Rudolph to round out the crew. It only took one photo to convince him.
In a matter of hours, we found ourselves creeping along the valley floor, crawling through alder brush on all fours. We shrugged off this momentary challenge, laughing in amusement. A dash of ignorance shielded us from the reality of a thickening bush whack ahead. Sky knew better. This was his third time on the route and figured to have the jungle approach dialed. He smiled with a conniving grin, “Sometimes you get lucky.”
After enduring a few hours of forest adventuring, we reached a thin spine. It was there that we’d get our first true glimpse of the impending route ahead. Butterflies fluttered through my stomach. I felt a certain rush of adrenaline. With virtual 100% exposure, this was not a time to be waffling.
We locked down our crampons and began the summit push. The route took us past yawning crevasses and steep ice cliffs. Little by little, step by step, we marched on. The steep ascent up this iconic peak created air with a certain, lofty feel. Intense focus preceded each footstep. Eventually I started thinking about the beach- trying to keep my mind off the relenting, steep exposure.
The snow crunched brilliantly underneath our feet. A perfect climbing platform allowed us to make solid time. Not too hard, not too soft. Noting the ideal texture and coverage, we were naturally excited about the upcoming descent. A relaxing break on the summit brought views of adjacent Mount Baker and the Puget Sound to the West and Vancouver and the Coast Range to the North.
With the sun shining brightly from above, it was time to embark on an epic descent. I nudged Rudolph forward, egging him on to make the first turn. As we approached the edge of the world, tiny Price Lake came into view 4,000 feet below. Chris carefully tested the snow. The first two turns responded positively. Confidence radiated, and soon we were playfully carving precise turns down the large and exposed signature face of a Northwest Icon.
A few inches of fresh snow left behind from a July storm created a field smooth as butter. Gravity kept pulling us forward, almost as if Price Lake had its own magnetic field far below. With the intense nature of the pitch, it allowed us to make the purest of fall line turns- creating a sensation of flying. The hardest part was keeping speed in check. The skiing was so perfect in all regards that you wanted to open it up and let the skis run. Realizing the high consequence of any fall- we struggled, but managed to keep our inner speed freak in check.
Floating through the Corn Field of Dreams, we shouted with exhilaration. Safely returning to the bottom ridge below- we exchanged high-fives. For two of us, we were on Cloud Nine. But for the bristling, quiet slaying mountaineer, this was just another walk in the park.
-Tim Cartwright