I’m almost at the top, trying to avoid glancing down. The bootpack is so steep that my skis, strapped to my pack, brush the snow above my head. The guy in front of me is sporting jeans and somehow managing the climb with what must be a pair of at least 190s nonchalantly slung over his shoulder. Crushed cans of Coors Original rattle in the cargo pocket of my ski pants. This is New Hampshire. This is Tuckerman’s.
Having spent nearly a decade skiing the Rockies, I often and only half-jokingly espoused the virtues of my East coast roots. So it always bothered me that I had never skied the East coast’s premier test-piece – the headwall of Tuckerman’s Ravine on New Hampshire’s Mt. Washington.
Though certainly not home to the only good skiing on Mt. Washington, Tuckerman’s remains the most storied of the several ravines and bowls dropping off the Northeast’s highest peak (6,288ft). The mountain’s wild weather and high winds scour loads of snow into Tuckerman’s and the nearby Huntington Ravine. The east-facing bowl averages 55 feet in a typical winter and offers the best and safest riding in springtime (early April to late May). Even though people can and do ski Tuckerman’s throughout the winter, the area has ensnared 32 avalanche victims and taken the lives of ten over the last 60 years. It is also home to very unpredictable and potentially nasty weather.
Most people access the bowl via Pinkham Notch, hiking up the 2.4-mile Tuckerman Ravine Trail and skiing out on the Sherburne Trail at day’s end. In an effort to avoid crowds and ensure a good, sunny afternoon exposure for our ski home, our party has taken a lesser-known route to the summit of Mt. Washington, skinning up the peak’s western flank alongside the tracks of the historic Cog Railway. A Victorian era-tourist attraction, the Cog Railway provides the most direct route to the top and still operates during the summer.
From the summit we drop into a northwest-facing shot to warm up before heading over to Tuck’s. Stopping briefly at the summit weather station, we are greeted by hiking Euro tourists, crusty old-school tele-hippies, and teenagers skiing in T-shirts – an interesting mix for sure. We ski down the south-facing snowfields that lead to the rim of the main bowl and try to spy an entrance free of exposed rock. At this point the temperature is well into the 50s, and I’m two beers deep.
The bowl itself features several main lines of varying pitch and exposure. We’re headed for a line known as (looker’s) Left Gully, the area’s most clearly defined couloir, if not the steepest. Next to that is The Chute, an intimidating line that narrows between two large rock walls at the bottom. The Center gully area clocks in at around 55 degrees and today is peppered with exposed cliffs and rocks, leaving little by way of skiable options. Neighboring that sits The Icefall, the bowl’s steepest zone and one that includes mandatory airtime to the tune of at least 25 ft. With the rapid melting, the often frozen waterfall that bookends The Icefall is raging. You don’t get to see people skiing next to a fast flowing waterfall every day. Moving across, runs like The Lip, The Sluice, and Lobster Claw become progressively less exposed and lower angle.
We drop the Left Gully, making turns on the chute’s short, 55-degree upper pitch. I manage to release a large amount of sloppy wet snow that knocks me off my feet and funnels into the growing runnel that descends right next to the parade of hikers climbing the bootpack. To my surprise, they seem less than concerned by the large amounts of moving snow.
At the bottom, it’s full-on party time. This particular sunny Saturday has brought a circus of around 2,500 skiers, boarders, sledders (yes, sledders), snowbladers, climbers, and spectators to the ravine. A wildly diverse and highly entertaining mix of people congregate loosely around an area known as Lunch Rocks to eat, drink, and cheer on or heckle would-be heroes dropping the headwall. No one escapes judgment from the peanut gallery, and the vibe is quite festive.
Unfortunately our group still has to hike back up and drop back down the west flank to our campsite. But that won’t stop us from making like the locals and cracking a few beers first.
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