Rampart Ridge

December 18, 2005 Several weeks of no new snow, high winds, and cold temperatures had played havoc on the Washington snowpack. Phil suggested an 'exploratory' 'tour' kind of day, and I was just eager to get outside after working a lot. We drove to the east side of Snoqualmie Pass, strong gusts of wind buffetting the truck around. We struggled into our ski boots, going through the necessary contortions to avoid getting out of the car any sooner than necessary. We expected miserable snow, but when we headed down the snow covered road we found recrystallized powder in the open areas. We soon left the road and headed up a overgrown logging road, up a powder-covered boulderfield, and crossed through some trees into an old regrown clearcut. The snow in the clearcut was indeed powder, mainly behemoth surface hoar crystals with absolutely no cohesion. Breaking trail was difficult not due to snow depth, but rather low friction. We headed into some trees at the top of the clearcut and found that the trees had released their loads of snow, making the treed areas rife with crust and bombholes. We decided that we'd follow our original plan of 'exploring', so Phil took the lead and led us over to the broad ridge, where we were briefly exposed to the ferocious wind. Shortly we left the ridge and started traversing climber's left. Eventually we reached a large open slope. The snow was crust. Thick, breakable crust. Every few feet there was a death cookie. I reached down and heaved one loose; it was about meter in diameter, weighed close to a metric ton, and had the density and modulus of elasticity of lead. We skinned to the top of the slope, where futher travel was impossible due to the presence of a large cliff. We switched to ski mode, expecting the worst. Luckily, if we stayed close to the trees, we avoided the worst of the snow, and the skiing was fun. Inelegant gorilla turns worked quite well. At the bottom, right where our skin track headed back into the woods, I speared one of the mammoth death cookies with my ski, and did my best to run over Phil. Luckily I failed, and I was rewarded with a mouthful of snow. We headed back through the wooded traverse, back into the recrystallized clearcuts. Near the bottom Phil decided that another run was appropriate, so he broke trail up a few hundred feet, as I sluggishly followed. It was easily worth it, as we were rewarded with a very nice run of powder. Below the clearcut we skied the boulderfield, giving a fantastic, albeit short, pillow run without realizing my fear of uncovering rocks.