Skiing the Newton-Clark Headwall: Is this 50 Classic Ski Descent Overrated?
The most climbed mountain in the United States, by some metric—not sure which one—has this way of bringing serious mountaineers and kooks all to the same parking lot.
After a small trip hiccup in Sisters, OR, I was on my way up to Hood for another solo mission before meeting up with the spring Alaska team on Rainier. Arriving in the afternoon, I was met with the splendor of Oregon sunshine, ample parking, and the tangible stoke of ski bums riding Timberline, jibbing ’til their hearts' content.
Planning this outing was very simple, as there are many resources online to keep you on route. I rested for a few hours that afternoon, thinking about the allure that this line has in the ski mountaineering community. I have always tried to come into new descents with modesty and grace, so, as expected, I had anticipatory nerves of excitement and some respectful fear for my outing.
The morning started as any other south-side Mt. Hood climb would: great people-watching, cool temps, and an endless slog up to the Hogsback. Along the way, I started chatting with some other skiers, as I had ample time to let my aspect warm up in the sun.
I chatted with some rangers and other skiers at the Hogsback, taking note of how terrible the conditions looked in the Pearly Gates. According to the rangers, above-average wind on the mountain in the true winter months shaped this line into an unclimbable mess by late April. I had skied that line in 2022, and it seemed incomprehensible based on the state of the line at that moment.
After nearly an hour of R&R at the Hogsback, duty called, and I was on my way up Old Chute. This was my first time climbing this section, and I was puckered. It had nothing to do with the mountain conditions, weather, or my physical ability, but rather the number of misguided groups above me with all the gear and no idea. To me, other climbers on mountains like this are my biggest hazard for the day, and I was correct. I moved swiftly to avoid spending much time below other climbers, and before I knew it, I was on the summit ridge.
Another beautiful Cascade summit shared with a few climbers. After exchanging niceties, I set off solo towards the top of my line. This is always one of the best parts of ski descents like this: walking off in a completely different direction than all the other climbers, who are giving hypoxic looks of confusion and concern.
Once at the top of the line, I soon realized I was much too early to have a soft riding surface on the face, so I tried to hunker down for a moment. This was a great opportunity to calibrate, check maps & beta, and eat some food.
After a valiant fight against my own impatience, I clicked into my skis and began down the ridge towards the entrance of the headwall. As the ridge became more dramatic on both sides, the line became a mix of frosted rocks and rime ice. I slowly picked my way down as much as possible but was forced to down-climb about 10 meters or so to the top of the Newton-Clark Headwall.
I got the timing just right. Smooth snow greeted me just below the wind-blown ridge, and I began linking smooth, arcing turns on my carbon toothpicks for skis. After an uneventful descent and wrapping back into the ski area, I thought to myself, "Damn, I must've messed up some route finding; that was way more mellow than I thought."
After extensive investigation, what I skied was the most true-to-line descent of the Newton-Clark Headwall. This left a weird taste in my mouth. Back at the car, I asked myself a bunch of questions: "Am I becoming desensitized to steep skiing, or is this line overhyped?" "Did I actually ski the correct line?"
Writing this nearly 18 months after I skied it, I've realized: This is one of the most overrated, overhyped lines in my career of backcountry ski descents. It's not that steep, technical, or visually appealing. This is not a discredit to the mountain itself. It has many engaging climbing and skiing lines—just not this one. I will be back to Mt. Hood to recreate on this beautiful mountain, but I will find it hard to return to this line unless it's a part of some circumnavigation effort in the future.
Thanks, Mama Hood.
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