Some of my favorite descriptions of the mountains are those written by John Muir.  His words paint intricate pictures of every detail of the mountain environment, and his writings ooze with child-like curiosity and the passion for exploration that he was famous for.  To me, however, one story stands out from the rest.  It’s the story of how Muir, in December of 1847, climbed a 100 foot tall Douglas spruce in the midst of a severe windstorm…….just to experience the exhilaration of the storm from the top of the tree.  This story was part of the inspiration for a recent adventure.

Matterhorn Peak

At 12,279 feet, Matterhorn Peak is the tallest peak in the jagged Sawtooth Range of the Eastern Sierra Nevadas.  This spectacular collection of sheer granite forms the northernmost boundary of Yosemite National Park.  In the winter, it boasts some of the Sierras’ finest ski mountaineering.  This was our destination.

Weather forecasts in late January of 2010 went crazy as a massive storm system approached the west coast.  NOAA’s weather website issued the full arsenal of hazardous weather warnings.  Copious amounts of rain were expected and snow levels were forecast to drop low into the valleys.  The high-level winds that powered this monster were expected to top 200 mph.  To me and my skiing buddies, fellow SEAG guide Dan Hernandez and Louis Rivara this seemed like the perfect weather for a camping trip.

Skiing in, we had perfect weather.  Sunny, warm, and still.  Only the high, wispy clouds provided a hint of the approaching storm.  We set up camp at about 9,200 feet and enjoyed a relaxing dinner before retiring for the night.  Sometime around 1am I awoke to a sound like a jet engine.  My first thought was “Man, Dan snores really loud!”  Still groggy with sleep, I grabbed my headlamp and peeked outside.  Snow was swirling on the wind, and the megamid we’d set up as a cook tent was being put through its paces by the powerful gusts of wind.  I was glad we’d taken the time to bury our deadman anchors deep.

Early the next morning, we wolfed down a quick breakfast and got ready to climb.  The storm was building in intensity and created an electric sense of excitement in the mountains.  We headed up into it, paying close attention to what the visibility was doing and assessing the rapidly changing snow conditions as we went.  Although the wind was howling, and the snow conditions were not great for skiing, there were smiles all around at the opportunity to be right in the thick of it.  At about 11,000 feet we cached our skis and continued with crampons and ice axes up the steep snow colouir that leads to the summit.  The wind was fierce and we were forced to pile rocks on top of our skis to keep them from blowing away.  Nearing the top of the colouir, I was buffeted by gusts of wind powerful enough to knock me down.  Maintaining 3 and even 4 points of contact with the snow was essential - but this is what we were here for.

Climbing the final colouir

Topping out in the coloir, the wind was ferocious.  We had to yell at each other to communicate and the blowing spindrift of snow poured over the ridge like a waterfall.  As the wind whipped through the nooks and crannies of rock, faint resonations, like a didgeridoo could be heard.  Very cool!  Experiencing the storm’s raw power head on like this was nothing short of exhilarating and in John Muir’s words “….never before did I enjoy so noble an exhilaration of motion.”.

As we skied back to camp, I couldn’t help but grin.  Chances were good that we were the only people for hundreds of miles to experience this storm in all its raw glory.  I could feel its energy in every fiber of my body.  Now I knew how John Muir felt……