Skiing out yesterday, having reached a place where I was pretty sure I was going to make it out in one piece, I actually laughed out loud, after saying to myself: "and I'm not even any good at this!" I thought about titling this trip report "The Wisdom of Inability," the idea being that each time I pull off one of these wild wintery ski trips it feels like an accomplishment, and it is a big adventure for me, while to a real skier it would literally be just a "ski in the Park." Now that my erstwhile friend Frank is back in England, I am confident that I am the very worst skier in the backcountry. I carry on conversations with myself on these solo trips, and speaking in the rich vein of my skiing inability, I again laughingly joked that my strongest talent as a skier is that I know the names of all the trees. This is not any sort of false modesty, and our HST "gazelle"/ Kristine (who is a real skier) can give a first hand account of my woefully bad downhill ability from our one trip together. Soon "Silky Smooth"/ Nikos will attest to it too, as he has decided to try me out for a partner, unaware that he may have to help drag my sorry arse back out. Dangerously bad downhill, I am also a pretty poor skier in the flats, and can sometimes fall over for no apparent reason while standing still.The purpose behind this litany of self-abuse is to point out to those among you who have expressed interest in the snowy Sierra, that you absolutely do not have to be an expert skier to do it. You only need to be an expert at keeping yourself warm, and not getting lost-- that's it! I love being out there alone in the snow, and that is why I am willing to push beyond my physical limits. This trip into Dusy Basin was simply magical, and I might say "awe inspiring," or something like that, but for me, to say that it is beyond words is better. A line from Maxim Gorki (whom I like to read in the tent) comes to mind; the book is handy, so I'll get the real quote.... "Words, like lichen on a stone, do not penetrate into the depths of the thoughts..." In my case up there, it is the depth of the experience that is too much for words to hold. And there's is my cue to get on with the pictures.
There are some very nice peaks and big mountain walls in the upper basin of Bishop Creek, and I was prepared to stay safe on the east side of the pass had it looked like incoming weather, or if the pass proved too difficult. I set up my first camp high above Long Lake, and I lucked out; the first four days were perfectly clear and windless. I got myself into trouble as I skied away from my high camp, which I had chosen for its view. No hope! I had to hike back down with skis packed. I often choose to boot up and down steep slopes to be safe-- my ski boots are good for kicking steps. The better route is to come down to the north east end of Long Lake from above, and then to ski along it.
