Soft and grainy with a dry finish. Notes of dark toast and a hint of coffee. 4.25/5 stars.
This post is a continuation from yesterday’s story. Please follow this link to catch the first part.
Directly ahead of us was a significantly steeper grade, and no clear trail. The slope was entirely exposed, and whatever previous adventurers had done to summit it was obscured by thaws and gravity. It seemed there were only two options: cut our own precarious switchbacks across the steep face or take the challenge head-on (literally!). Being the more nimble, I took the lead with some short switchbacks. It was a challenge to cut ledges into the hard snowpack, and since the snowshoes and poles were back in the car I had to trust my new traction spikes to grip and keep my balance. It was much slower going, and I had to rest frequently to catch my breath. As the end came closer, I switched directions more quickly until I finally decided to just scramble straight for the top. The snow was shallower as I ascended (thanks, gravity!), making it warm more quickly (hooray for thermodynamics!). The warmer snow offered less traction and a higher likelihood of breaking through the still waist-deep crust. I made it to the top but had to immediately sit down before my heart jackhammered out of my chest.
My friend is in a higher weight-class than I am, and so wasn’t able to reach that second viewpoint. The frozen crust gave up on him partway up and would not allow him to continue the ascent. I quickly snapped some photos and began retracing my steps back down to him. Gravity is a funny thing; for some reason the same foot placement on the way up the slope was not as safe on the way down. I too found myself sinking through the snow at several points, up to my knee or deeper depending on how hard I impacted the weakening shell. We had both had enough of that nonsense by the time I reached my friend. There was only one option to safely return to the lower overlook: controlled sliding.
I went first, more from excitement to try it out than anything else. I sat on the snow, reclined slightly, and raised my heels. Immediately I was rocketing down the slope with little chance of stopping quickly or controlling my direction. I spread my arms behind me and dug my gloved fingers into the crystalline hillside. I planted my heels. There was just enough friction now to feel slightly more in control, but the speed was exhilarating. All too soon (or not soon enough if you asked my backside) I hit the flat and came to a gentle stop. What a rush! My friend came down next, and I could see the same childish glee that I had felt reflected on his face. No question about it, that was a peak experience.
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