mount stimson, montana

I’d never heard of Mount Stimson and NEVER would have ended up skiing it if it weren’t for the “50 Classics” book. This beauty is way the fuck off the beaten path and from what I can tell it’s only seen a handful of ski descents due to it’s location and difficult approach . This arial photo from “the good book” certainly helps one get excited and start fantasizing about making turns down it.

Our plan was to hike in on day one and camp at the base of the line. Day two, we would get up early to ski it and then bust all the way back out before dark. Seemed like a good idea at the time. We slept at a cheap motel in Kalispell where we sorted gear and got a good rest. The next morning we drove out to Glacier National Park, found the correct pullout and parked our cars. We crossed the train tracks and headed into the woods. (Camping in Glacier National Park requires an overnight permit which is free and available HERE.)

Cody Hughes, Grey Wilde and I ended up on this mission after a pretty random parking lot discussion a few weeks before in Utah. Montana was having a great season and we had all been keeping an eye on conditions for this route. Schedules and weather finally lined up for the three of us to convene far from home.

Yes, that is a pack raft on his back. The first crux was crossing the Middle Fork of the Flathead River. We borrowed the raft from Ray Hunzinger and planned to cross one at a time to stay high and dry.

But after seeing how shallow the river was we just decided to wade across and save the time it would take to blow up a raft and ferry back and forth. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Halfway through, Cody pulled out his phone to prevent it from getting wet…………and then it slipped………. and I watched him fumble and juggle it……….. in slow motion…………… until it plopped in the water…………… and washed downstream. Maybe the raft would have been a better idea?

A mile or so on a trail and it was time to cross Coal Creek, luckily it was well bridged with snow and no feet got wet and no phones were lost. The next crux was just ten miles of bushwhacking hell through thick trees in the gut of Pinchot Creek to get to that beautiful pointy peak in the far distance. No big deal.

We laughed about the heinous schwacking for the first few miles.

Then we just hunkered down and suffered through countless ups and downs and all arounds. Luckily, our timing in the season was great and there was plenty of snow to travel up the creek bed and cross back and forth when necessary.

A rare opening in the forest and our first sighting of the southwest face of Mount Stimson.

It had snowed the few days prior and we hoped to get our edges in on it before the sun did too much damage. It was starting to look like our efforts were going to pay off in a really good way! Our plan was to ski a more direct line through the lower cliff band via the sneaky traverse on skiers right (visible in image below), instead of the “classic” route which traverses off and over the huge cliff to the skiers left.

We set up camp and tried to dry out gear as the sun quickly went away and the temps dropped. This was Cody and Grey’s first time winter camping and they opted for the “light is right” option in sleeping bags and pads. Turns out light may be right, but it’s also cold. The single digit temps that night left their mark.

Our alarms pulled us out of our bags and into ski boots while it was still very dark. Our departure time was aided by the fact that it was daylight savings and so we were blessed with an extra hour of darkness. We made our way up the valley and onto the south face of Stimson.

The slow reveal was unreal.

Skinning turned to booting in knee deep snow.

Not a bad place to warm up. (Photo Grey Wilde)

Each of us putting in our 100 steps at a time. #teamwork

The south face is a phenomenal line in and of itself and the snow conditions were primo. It was hard to pass it up, but this isn’t what we came for.

Nice and steep up high near the ridge with thousands of feet of boot pack below.

It felt great to reach the ridge and take in all the views from the second highest peak in all the range!

The ridge walk brought us right to the top of Stimson’s 10,141 foot summit. The views were OK, but only as far as the eye could see and in every direction. Turns out Mountaina has a lot of mountains.

The rime ice features prevented us from skiing straight in so we climbed down 2o feet and geared up to drop in.

I don’t end up doing much top down skiing. It’s much more intimidating just hopping onto something without getting a feel for it. The face was fucking enormous, as wide open as anything I’ve ever skied. Nowhere to hide.

We did a short and quick hip belay to test things out. The new snow was much more settled out and blown off on this side of the hill, not a bad thing. Cody making it look much deeper than it was with the old snowboarder slash turn.

And popping back up for air.

Grey keeping it nice and tight.

Then Cody took the lead out into the heart of things.

I think I mentioned earlier what a large open face it is? Grey Wilde is 10 feet tall if that gives you some scale.

Conditions were mixed, some really good powder and some debris.

Taking a break on the lower portion and discussing the crux to come. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

We committed to the direct line and traversed around into it. The snow was soft at first, but then became really icy and steep. With the help of ice tools and well placed edges we worked down into it. It was heating up and we were right in the barrel of the loaded avalanche gun. I just wanted to get out of there, so I pointed it through the ice and out, but ate shit. No harm, no foul. Cody and Grey managed to work through it more gracefully staying on their feet. We finished off with the mellow apron and skinned a short pitch back up to camp.

We soaked in the fucking awesomeness of the descent and took some time to dry out gear, snack and pack up for the long exit.

Maybe this line would fit better into the “50 Classic Slogs of North America”, not to say the ski line isn’t amazing, but fuck me it’s no gimme. Not an easy one on the way in, or the way out. The drainage isn’t quite steep enough to ski out, so we kept skins on and retraced our seemingly endless up and down and all around through the creek bed.

We made it back out of the woods and crossed the river just as it became dark. Everybody was smoked when we got to the vehicles and could finally remove our packs and take off the boots. It was a big day, on the move in one form or another for the better part of 16 hours. But, we had moved and communicated well, dealt with the obstacles and stuck to the plan. This was #21 of the #50 for me and I felt lucky to have snagged it with great company in good style. Thanks fellas!

Big days require big dinners. Cody went with the “personal size” pizza. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

If you bite off more than you can chew in the mountains you just keep chewing until you make it out. Back in civilization you just get a to-go box and eat it later. Grey making the bold move as well. They both made valiant efforts to finish their pies, but they both came up short, that’s a blog post for another day.

I don’t often get foot issues, but my feet got truly wrecked from that much time in ski boots and the downhill skinning. I had to drive to Cooke City the next day so they had time to recover. Gray and Cody went on to ski some fun stuff in the Mission Mountains.

The End!