"Nez Perce"

Obj: Power Endurance

Training: Ski the western hour glass couloir of Nez Perce, Teton Range, Wyoming. 5.5 hour car to car, 5,200 feet elevation gain.

Comments:

A blue bird, windless day greeted Brian Harder, his wife Dina, and I this morning at the Bradley Lake parking lot in the Grand Teton National Park. Towering above, close enough touch, was the Teton Range, with only the summit of the Grand hidden by a teeney, lace-like cloud.

Brian has lived in Jackson several years now, is an Exum Guide, and has crawled all over the mountains towering above us. But on the car ride in, even this man cranked his neck down so he could see the expanse of the Grand. "I never get tired of that view," he whispered.

I'm new to these Tetons. I grew up south of here, in Sublette County, running around in the mountains of the cozy Wyoming Range, and huge Wind Rivers. To be honest, those ranges still hold my heart.

But these sultry Tetons have turned my head. They rise from the valley floor without the miles of pesky sagebruah foothills I'm accostomed to, and stand against the sky tall, and lean, beautiful and alluring.

Nice they are not. This time a year ago two climbers died during an attempt on the Grand, joining a long list of poor souls these gnarley mountains have broken and crushed.

And at the same time they are manageable. I've seen the Alaska Range from above and they scared me. Too big. Too tall. Too cold. Too far from help.

The Tetons are different. "I can get my arms around this range," another guide, Nat Patridge, told me one time over coffee, explaining why he had made Jackson his home.

It took us three and a half hours to skin from the parking lot to the base of the couloir, where we took of the skis and clamped on the crampons. An hour and steep 1,500 feet later, we were at the top.

When I say "we" - I mean all three of us. Brian spent most his time waiting for Dina and I. I bet he could have done the trip car to car in 3 hours or less.

The snow was "variable" - some crud, some ice, a little powder, slushy near the bottom. This was by far the steepest slope I'd ever skied, over 45-degrees in some sections. I only had to slip down one icy section, and luckily Dina was above and didn't see my hidden sissy side.

We had to skin just a small section of the way out, were enjoying a beer and sandwich in town in an hour and a half.

Dina near the bottom of the couloir.

Brian