Apocalypse Couloir Trip Report

Now that my skimo race season is over, it's time to take my race fitness to the mountains and ski some fun lines. One of the short comings of competing is ski mountaineering races is that training needs to happen and, depending upon your degree of commitment, should be specific to the demands unique to the racing format. It's not that you can't come off of a program of shralping the gnar in the backcountry and still perform well in competition. It's just that you probably won't do as well. 

If performing your best at the expense of "fun" skiing is not an appealing arrangement for you then free-form organic preparation is fine. But for me, I love the process of thinking about, designing and engaging in a training program that will, hopefully, bring me up to my best come race day. For now, I make the sacrifice and spend more time than most lapping Snow King at night after work.

In other words, I give up a certain amount of just plain fun backcountry skiing to do the specific preparation I think I need. Now, there are plenty of folks who feel this is stupid. I get that. Recently, I ran into a friend in Aspen who is actually quite bitter about all this running around on little skis clad in nothing more than Lycra underwear. He could hardly hide his distain for the sport. 

The funny thing is that he will admit to the savage nature of competing in skimo races. There is no getting around that the sport is sufferably hard. It's also cool because it's done on skis. He will admit to all that. But what really pisses him off, as I finally gathered, is that he "lost" his favorite ski partner to the sport. His "bromance" ended in a rando-race-inspired divorce. Sigh.

For me, getting back to the mountains for some "real" skiing has me reacquainting with old partners. My bromance divorces were more separations, I guess. Recently, a partner and I decided to have a look at the Apocalypse Couloir on Prospector Mountain in Grand Teton National Park. I've skied the line before, one of the coolest in the area, but Aaron had not so he was psyched. The last time I was in it, it was wind-hammered and not particularly fun skiing. With all the recent snow, I suspected more inviting conditions.

We got an early-ish start and made it into Death Canyon in less than an hour. Another 20 minutes up the canyon and we were crossing the stream and skinning toward our objective. There was a track in and the couloir had obviously been skied the day before. Okay, no fresh tracks. I could handle that. A little pseudo-stability testing at others' expense. Good enough. Upward.

As we skinned off the apron and into the couloir proper we transitioned to crampons and booting. This gets you into one of the coolest settings in the Tetons. The seeps coming off the North side of Prospector Mountain form Prospector Falls, a popular area ice climb, and several smaller flows that come right down to the floor of the gut. The ice is uniquely blue here and makes for surreal climbing. In lean years, crampons and, perhaps, a tool are required to get through the choke. This year we would be linking turns.

For those unfamiliar with the upper reaches of the Apocalypse, there is a fork at about 2/3 height unseen until you are upon it. Most ski mountaineers hang a left here and continue up the narrowing, vertical-walled, dare I say, more desirable option. For whatever reason, the shredders from the day before went straight and stopped a few hundred feet above the fork at a headwall. For us, unmolested, DEEP, snow awaited behind Door Number 2. 

There was certainly some apprehension as we started up. Snow accumulates at the junction and just feels creepy until the walls pinch in. We were wallowing. It was crotch-deep and had me pulling snow from above - trenching, I like to call it - in order to make upward progress. It seemed endless. This feeling was heightened by fog that had crept into the upper reaches, obstructing the view of the top. Aaron and I traded leads here a few times, easing the work and eventually gaining the top, a small rocky step just short of the true end of the gully.

Ascending, there was no doubt that it would ski well. Now we were poised to actually find out. I had a little point-and-shoot video camera with me so I let Aaron have the honors and I committed the effort to digital memory. Very nice. Even sloppy seconds were good, riding the sluff as it lowered me gently with each turn. 

The rest of the descent was uneventful, if variable. There was some novelty in linking turns in a place where many are forced to down climb. This year has been fat. The apron skied well and riding the trail out to Phelps Lake was quick. We punched it up to the overlook and coasted back to car in just over 5 hours rounds trip. No complaints.

Here's a little video of the fun. My first effort. Pretty crude but you get the idea. - Brian