Red Slate Couloir: Channeling Fear

What is fear? What’s the right amount of fear? How do we engage with fear? Do we have a delicate dance with the edge or keep far from it?

We’ve all heard “You have to face your fears”, but to what capacity? Is the only thing to really fear, fear itself?

Below: First view of Red Slate from the far side of Convict Lake

When deciding on whether to embark on a solo mission to ski the north couloir off Red Slate Mountain, all of these questions ran through my mind on repeat. Are you ready? Do you have a backup plan? Is this the proper stepping stone in your progression of exposure tolerance?

All of these questions had to be put on hold until I got my eyes on the line. On 4/26/2023 I started from the Convict Lake trailhead around 6am. Funny enough, the skier in the van next to me arose at roughly the same hour and we shared the same goal. Shaun (or Sean, I didn't ask) and I shared stories about our recent travels: He had just biked from Santiago all the way down to Ushuaia. An incredible feat that we discussed as we had shared similar experiences in towns we both passed through. He seemed to be a great partner in this serious endeavor except he was looking to do it in a day, along with opting for just the couloir rather than a ski off the summit.

Once on the far side of the lake we parted ways as he turned on the jets, leaving me and my expedition pack in the dust. From the far side of the lake one follows the drainage south avoiding avalanche debris and taking the path of least resistance to reach Mildred Lake. Once at Mildred you have many options on which way you'd like to approach the objective. I opted to climb northwest onto the ridge that separates Lake Dorothy and Lake Mildred. I thought this would be a perfect campsite as projected winds were miniscule along with it being a happy medium of carrying a heavy pack far enough but not too far to make the exit ski harder than the main objective.

Below: Arriving at Mildred Lake, Camp setup; ready to lounge

It only took me about 4 hours or so to reach my campsite for the night, roughly 10am. Arriving, and ready to have this big pack off me, I took out my sleeping pad and took a 40 minute nap right then and there ( no caffeine this morning). I woke up to what was still a perfect bluebird day in the high Sierra. I constructed my campsite: propping my tent up, digging a snow bench for water-making, and splayed the contents of my bag around. I had brought tons of food (training weight) and was thankful for that as I spent the rest of my day sunbathing, listening to an audiobook and eating. Definitely some serious training going on! Spending most of the day in my tent listening to Touching the Void By Joe Simpson had me on the edge of my seat, or should I say sleeping pad. The riveting story-telling style that Simpson has creates a thrilling listening experience and I would highly recommend this book. Its tales of hardship, tough decisions and perseverance inspired me. Not only to live life to the fullest but to calculate, and recalculate for anything that could possibly go wrong while in the mountains.

From my tent I stared incessantly at the couloir, questioning its feasibility. I know people had skied it before, so why couldn't I? Spending hours looking at this daunting task helped me reevaluate my nerves and plans to account for all potential mishaps.

Below: Just myself and the beast, eye to eye

After sleeping from 7pm to about 5:30 the next morning, I was ready. I pieced together my gear in anticipation of any of the countless realities that could occur. I started out skinning towards Wit-So-Nah-Pah Lake through the flattest section and made my way on the western face of Red Slate towards Gemini Pass. The skinning lasted until about 11,200 feet where I switched to crampons for better security. It was slow grooving from here. The slope angle starts off mellow but once you reach Gemini Pass it becomes full-on steep snow-climbing. No room for errors here; although a fall wouldn't be fatal, it would not be a pretty slide.

After two hours of this and a final crux section of 55 degree climbing, you are on top of Red Slate Mountain.

Below: Crossing Lake Wit-So-Nah-Pah, Halfway up the west face

This entire climb I was listening to another audiobook, trying to keep my mind off the massive exposure that was to come. I even caught myself taking multiple unneeded and unnecessary breaks at the top to give myself more time to process what I was about to ski, let alone ski solo. Once on top I sorted my gear for the descent, took in some water and snacks and scoped out the line. From the summit one skis down around 50 vertical feet then traverses hard skiers left over three distinct chutes. This is where all the exposure really is: If you fall here (and don't self arrest) you will die, no doubt about it.

Below: Summit! , Looking down the line and its exposure

After getting my nerves in check I dropped in, and to my surprise I found excellent conditions: ankle high powder over a supportable surface. After making a few gingerly turns on the first face I traversed hard skiers left. Once over the first two gullies, the main crux I anticipated was the third crossing. From camp this section looked near vertical needing either a rappel or some heroic-like gumption to get across. Reaching this section, it was quite the opposite: perfect powder skiing to the entrance of the main line.

Below: On the rib between second and third gully, Pow turns to couloir entrance

Next up was the North Couloir. The previous exposure made this 2000’ couloir of sustained 45-50 degree skiing feel like a cake walk. From supportable chalk to choppy human-affected crust made for quite an interesting descent. In hindsight, I should have taken a moment to get my heart rate under control as I was struggling to link turns down this thing. I won’t blame it on the horrendous conditions but rather my lack of ability to calm myself down after by-far the scariest backcountry ski line I have ever attempted.

Below: Top of the couloir, Descent snapshots, Looking back up

As I reached the apron of the gully my heart rate subdued with a giant sigh of relief. I survived. At that very moment I circled back to my initial question: What is fear? How close was I to my personal edge on this descent? Things felt in control, but were they? Rumination on decisions and execution are imperative when operating in the mountains and are only heightened when alone.

Below: From the apron of the couloir

This descent will forever be ingrained into my mind and soul as a skier. My first major descent solo. Although I have done a rather fair amount of solo travel on skis, this by far takes the cake in regards to exposure and consequence.

“Life can deal you an amazing hand. Do you play it steady, bluff like crazy or go all in?” - Joe Simpson; Touching The Void

Below: Back at camp, packed up and fired up on my safe ski down!