Winter sputtered back to life with a 15 cm dump. Yes, a dump. Droughts tend to lead to exaggerations! The 15 cm’s were pretty good as this photo of the Moose proves. I went to the well and hit the up button 5 times on the knob before making the shuffle back to the parking lot. With winter half!?!? over, it was the first time I’d made laps out at the usual haunt. Absence does make the heart grow fonder – it was nice to be hauling ass down the landing strip – but not many things get me as excited these days as exploration and checking things off the list.

The snowfall warning that promised another 10 to 20 cm’s for the following day didn’t materialize. Our leisurely start was delayed as Adam and I converged from different directions. As I waited for him to arrive bearing cinnamon buns, I counted nearly twenty vehicles headed up the road to the trail head for every single turn we’d ever made in the park. It was holiday Monday and the park was jumping. Relatively anyway.

Adam had first mentioned the town line years ago and we took some photos of it from the airplane a couple years back. It sometimes came up in conversation, but usually got discarded as an option. Too bony, too thin, not enough snow. It’d be a waste of a powder day. We’d already wasted a good chunk of a powder day by the time we geared up beneath the town line. The crowds that we’d sought to avoid had congregated by Cameron Falls and strangers questioned our sanity.

For well over a thousand feet we suffered through a thin snow pack, tight trees and more dead fall than you can shake a stick at. A mild disagreement over route soon led to a very fun game of trail breaking. The more you could make the person behind you suffer, the less your own suffering seemed to matter. A high step over a fallen log. Sure thing. Squeeze between those two trees that are only one ski wide? It’s on. Skin track between these clumps of alders or right through them? Let’s add a kick turn in the middle of the alder! As we climbed the snow depth increased, which added to the suffering. Deep trail breaking with alder lurking below the surface is the norm for early season missions, but not for a powder day in February, right?

Despite repeated looks at the gps and altimeter watch, this mountain refused to yield. After fighting our way close to 2,000 feet up, there was still no view to the top and our goal seemed forever away. Only 1,000 more feet became the refrain. We’d hit pockets of what could be described as awesome terrain, only to run into cliff bands and more tight trees to struggle through. We hit the prominent cliff band and exerted a lot of energy finding a way up and around it. Hint: involved more tight trees, steep switch backs in the trees, and faceted snow through rocks. We couldn’t help but laugh.

Nearing the top, when we knew 1,000 more feet was a lie, we insisted on repeating the lie because it helped deal with skinning on 4 inches of fluff over top of knife hardness wind crust and scree. Had we taken a look at our own photo shot from the air, we’d have seen the upper bowl stripped bare. This recent 15 cm that arrived without wind was a con and we’d fallen for it hook, line and sinker. Gingerly we climbed until the ridge became too steep to gain purchase. We high fived each other and enthusiastically kicked steps the final bit to top out on the false summit of Bertha Peak. 3,400 feet later we were we’d set out to be!

We changed over, took some photos and finally ate our lunches. Stop now? No! We’ll be at the top in… 1,000 more feet. Delusional people, like those who call a small storm a “dump”, and those who make a game out of breaking the worst up possible, were positively stoked on the dust on crust. They were really excited to see they’d navigated to the most likely hole in the cliff band. Elated to find rock and ice where their own sluffs had swept away the powder. Once through the choke, they floated down the line choking on the bottomless powder before staring into the nothingness of what, in another season, might be known as a 30 foot waterfall. Fearlessly, they hung a left, side slipped through alder, over exposed rocks and ice and in one case bare earth. After some creative hops and cautious turns they wound up on the local slide hill where they dodged kids on crazy carpets and rode past bewildered parents.

“Where’d you guys come from?”

“Up there, it was awesome!”