Report from December 22, 2023

Last Friday, I awoke at 5am and hit the road by 5:30am in Park City, UT.

Headed west.

I’d gotten some inside information from a local that despite the low snow this season, the Terminal Cancer Couloir in the Ruby Mountains, NV was in.

The apron, however, was not.

Terminal Cancer Couloir – Ruby Mountains, NV:

• Summit:  9,300′
• Car:  7,400′
• Vertical From Car:  1,900′ round trip
• Vertical skied:  1,400′
  
• Max Pitch:  40º
• Average Pitch:  37º
• Aspect:  N
• Distance:  2.7-miles round trip
• Time From Car to Summit:  2 hours
• Car to Car Time:  3 hours & 5 minutes
• Recommended Equipment:  crampons, ice axe, skins 

As I drove west with a final destination of Tahoe, I couldn’t decide what to do…

Just going in to check out Terminal Cancer on this 8-hour drive across the desert adds 1.5 hours to the drive.

So if it isn’t in, you waste a lotta time (I’ve done this before).

Last minute, I decided to go for it and decided to fully commit via taking the dirt road backway into the canyon for the added adventure.

The dirt road route is gorgeous, empty, full of farms and idyllic scenes, and on this day it also held surreal valley fog.

I rolled into a very dry Ruby Mountain canyon at 9:30am.

Concerningly dry.

When I finally saw the chute and put binoculars to it – it was true – it looked filled in.

It had 2 choke points of rock that looked passable but note-worthy.

The apron looked so thin on snow that I’d likely have to boot up and down it.

I’d done that before and decided it was worth a try.

At 10am I started up.

After booting across the creek I realized that I could skin the apron and switched to skins.

The bushwhacking was a 7 outta 10 on the bushwhack-o-meter.

Climbing up the waterfalls required crampons.

After over an hour, I made it to the base of the chute.

The entire apron was thin snow and bushy as hell but the chute looked good.

It was dust-on-crust in there with 2″ of new snow on firm, old snow.

Booting, skinning, cramponing, skinning, booting.

The booting up was easy because, shockingly, someone had already skied the chute this season (nut jobs! oh, what does that say about me?).

New snow covered the booter but it was still firm under there and performed well.

I rambled up to the top and over the 2 rocky choke points with ease.

It often felt like I was sailing through a dream or hallucination.

Walking up this chute is surreal, psychedelic, and intense all at the same time.

Especially when alone and on short sleep.

Senses are heightened – including some senses you aren’t sure are real…

I stopped just short of the top where it always becomes fully rock before the summit.

I drank, rested, and got my mind in order.

I dropped in to the mantra “Just find a rhythm.”

It was challenging at first with the firm snow and ruts from the folks who’d skied it before me.

The top of the chute is the narrowest and steepest.

As the chute widened, it got easier as I had more room to turn and shed speed.

The rhythm came and so did a slight upward curve of my lips.

It was dust-on-crust, but it was damn fun dust-on-crust.

I slashed and flowed and kept my speed up as best I could.

The first choke was all rock and required a full stop.

I thought I might have to walk around it but I was feeling confident by then.

I walked on the rocks a bit, then dropped off ’em, pointed it, and slammed on the brakes.

Made it!

I got back into the flow and completely forgot about the 2nd choke.

I ended up taking a small air off it which surprised me but I kept it together and rolled on.

This last big chunk of the chute is the best skiing.

It’s wider and less steep making for faster more fluid turns and the walls are the tallest in here.

It feels like you’re skiing in a dream.

Like you’re Luke Skywalker flying down that metal canyon of the Death Star searching for the thermal exhaust port.

I blasted out the bottom at my full VO2 Max – exhausted and happy.

The bushwhack down the apron was a slog with no actual “skiing.”

Just surviving.

I was able to “ski” down to the creek however which was further than I thought I would get.

It took a long time.

Once across the creek, I had to put on skins one last time to get out of the creek bed and back to the car.

From there I melded back to the road and drove another 5 hours or so to Olympic Valley in Lake Tahoe, CA.

I broke my 24-hour fast when I arrived and food never tasted so good.

What an insanely incredible day.

Thanks, Nevada!

Photos in Chronological Order