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Last spring I became a bit obsessed with the NE Couloir of the Pfief. I posted two reports of failed attempts by Courtney Phillips and I. Well we weren’t going to give up that easy.

If at first you don’t succeed, fail and fail again. Not really a great caption for a motivational poster, but more of a reality in life and definitely for ski mountaineering.

Confidence was high due to the fact that we brought the ringer along with us. Andrew made the first descent many years ago and spoke of it as pretty tame and uneventful. 

 

Conditions were firm, but we had full sun and the expectation that it would soften up into corn soon. We hung out on the summit for a bit waiting for it to thaw.

 

It looked firm still and sounded really firm, and though he didn’t even leave any tracks he descended the upper chute and disappeared from our view. We waited for him to yell back that he was clear and we could descend, but that call never came. 

 

Instead we heard, “I’m booting back out”. Turns out it was still too firm and the snow formed a really steep narrow spine below the choke and above the 80ft rappel station. Not a very good place to be fk’n around. 

As Andrew booted back up he said it was too ugly, but he would give us the rap gear if we wanted to give it a go. We looked at each other and laughed a little. Then one of us commented that it would be like running into a war zone after Rambo has just came running away from the scene . No thanks.

We skied down and out Maybird to Red Pine to the trail on good snow.

The obsession continues, but now I get to think about it all summer long!

This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. Why? Not so sure, but it seems strange to live close to this range and never explore it at all. I watch the sunset daily over these peaks and I don’t even know what Oquirrh means. 
 If you’ve been hanging out here much you already know I post too many pics and these are long outings for both of us. Oh well, here we go for another round, you might want to pace yourself.

 

Working out my own car/moto shuttle, I ditched the truck on West Mountain and took to two wheels.

I drove down Butterfield Canyon, though Toole and into the town of Lake View.

 

 

 

No trails really, just bushwhacking and scrambling so far.

Once I hit Kessler there were some old jeep roads that led to the radio towers. It was nice to pick up the pace and make some progress in mileage. I was 4 hours in when I hit Farnsworth Peak. 

There was a newly graded road that descended the other side of Farnsworth.

Entered one of the few wooded areas along the way. 

Broke out onto a rocky and barren ridge at this point. 

I brought 4 liters for the day. This was the only water source I found and I was able to add an extra liter. I would have been hurting if it hadn’t been here.

6 hours in, I figured this was the halfway point.

 

It was shortly after this point that I had a brief encounter with a cougar or mt lion. At first I thought it was a coyote and I went for my camera, then it’s head turned and I saw it was a cougar and my heart jumped. It was less than 100ft ahead of me on the ‘path’, it turned and saw me and moved into the thicker brush. I’ve never seen one in the wild and it may sound funny, but it felt like an honor (after the fear subsided) to see this beautiful cat roaming free in it’s own world. I picked up a large rock of skull crushing proportions and carried it for a bit just in case kitty wanted to dance.

 

 

This coming from the man burning fossil fuels from two metallic vehicles so he can make a pointless traverse in the sky. 

 

Turns out Oquirrh means shining mountains or wooded mountains, depending on the native tribe. For me it was 12 hours through 22 miles of the most beautifully conflicted land I’ve ever had the extreme pleasure of passing through.