So, I wanted to snowboard the famous Cornice black diamond run last Saturday at Mammoth Mountain Ski Resort in the southeastern Sierra Nevada mountain range in California. Although the winds were extraordinarily high up there, I told myself I wanted to do this and get it overwith for the day. I have gone down this run a few times before on other trips to Mammoth.
The winds were so high that Mammoth had stopped the gondola runs to the top. That should have been my first warning.
At any rate, I took Chair 23 up to the top. Once there, the wind was blowing so hard that it was difficult to get to the rim of Cornice. I could barely see my snowboard at my feet. The blowing snow and "snow pellets" were stinging my exposed skin (my cheeks just outside of my Oakley sunglasses). I should have worn my goggles, but it was nice weather everywhere else on these mountains, so I didn't think I would need them. I did, however, wear a neoprene gaiter that I keep in my jacket pocket, but my lack of goggles exposed some of the skin on my cheeks. My face hurt so bad. I had to hold up my gloved hands in front of my face in a futile attempt to block the projectiles.
I had to sit on my butt to keep the wind from blowing me further away in the opposite direction from the ledge. I knew I needed to get to the ledge if I wanted to get out of there. I inched my way on my rear toward the edge. If only I could find the ledge, I could just drop in and begin my descent from 11,050 feet, escaping this frozen hell. It was so loud that I couldn't call my friend who was down at the bottom ready to video my ride down.
Looking around, I could see no one, nor could I hear anyone because of the roar of the wind. It felt so lonely up there--like I was the only idiot brave enough to go up there in those conditions. It got me to wonder, "what if I am the only one up here? No one can see me. If I can't make it down, I'll freeze to death." I began to think about the book/movie, "Into Thin Air" about the Mt. Everest catastrophe. I started to hyperventilate! My glasses (which were now covered with snow and ice) began to fog up. Yikes!...not a good situation.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a silhouette next to me. I had made it to the edge where someone else was trying to get down. I could barely see this person. I didn't know if it was a guy, girl, adult, or child. We couldn't speak to each other because of the roar. I made myself breath deeply and slowly as I wiped my sunglasses--at least I tried to, but the ice was really caked on. I looked over and that person next to me was gone.
I thought to myself, "It's now or never...here goes..." I made the Sign of the Cross and went over the edge.
The wind was actually holding me up and keeping me from falling forward. I carved my way on my board to the left on my heel-edge. When I went to transition to my toe-edge (right turn), I couldn't because the wind pushed me down when I turned my back downhill. I got up quickly and continued riding down toward the right, but on my back-edge of the board (essentially, a "fakie"). I continued this way for about 50-75 yards until all of a sudden it became quiet, calm, sunny, and warmer. I could see folks down at the bottom. Ah! Civilization! At that point, I could relax and enjoy the rest of my ride down Cornice. At the bottom, I had to basically chip the ice off my sunglasses, wipe the snow off my whole body and endure the pain on my cheeks. They felt like they were bleeding but, luckily, the were just dark red. I was so relieved that this ordeal was over. Wow.
Later, as we went to the bar for well-deserved break (and a Bloody Mary), my friend had videoed me and the timestamp on the video was 2:15 PM. I then browsed on my iPhone to the Mammoth meteorological site where they have historical weather data from the past hour, the past 24 hours, etc. Looking at this data for 2:15, the winds up there were a constant 60 MPH, with gusts up to 70 MPH. Whew! Near hurricane strength!
It was definitely a unique experience for me and I'll do it again, but not in high winds. My new rule--"When the gondola is stopped, stay away from the top".
The winds were so high that Mammoth had stopped the gondola runs to the top. That should have been my first warning.
At any rate, I took Chair 23 up to the top. Once there, the wind was blowing so hard that it was difficult to get to the rim of Cornice. I could barely see my snowboard at my feet. The blowing snow and "snow pellets" were stinging my exposed skin (my cheeks just outside of my Oakley sunglasses). I should have worn my goggles, but it was nice weather everywhere else on these mountains, so I didn't think I would need them. I did, however, wear a neoprene gaiter that I keep in my jacket pocket, but my lack of goggles exposed some of the skin on my cheeks. My face hurt so bad. I had to hold up my gloved hands in front of my face in a futile attempt to block the projectiles.
I had to sit on my butt to keep the wind from blowing me further away in the opposite direction from the ledge. I knew I needed to get to the ledge if I wanted to get out of there. I inched my way on my rear toward the edge. If only I could find the ledge, I could just drop in and begin my descent from 11,050 feet, escaping this frozen hell. It was so loud that I couldn't call my friend who was down at the bottom ready to video my ride down.
Looking around, I could see no one, nor could I hear anyone because of the roar of the wind. It felt so lonely up there--like I was the only idiot brave enough to go up there in those conditions. It got me to wonder, "what if I am the only one up here? No one can see me. If I can't make it down, I'll freeze to death." I began to think about the book/movie, "Into Thin Air" about the Mt. Everest catastrophe. I started to hyperventilate! My glasses (which were now covered with snow and ice) began to fog up. Yikes!...not a good situation.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a silhouette next to me. I had made it to the edge where someone else was trying to get down. I could barely see this person. I didn't know if it was a guy, girl, adult, or child. We couldn't speak to each other because of the roar. I made myself breath deeply and slowly as I wiped my sunglasses--at least I tried to, but the ice was really caked on. I looked over and that person next to me was gone.
I thought to myself, "It's now or never...here goes..." I made the Sign of the Cross and went over the edge.
The wind was actually holding me up and keeping me from falling forward. I carved my way on my board to the left on my heel-edge. When I went to transition to my toe-edge (right turn), I couldn't because the wind pushed me down when I turned my back downhill. I got up quickly and continued riding down toward the right, but on my back-edge of the board (essentially, a "fakie"). I continued this way for about 50-75 yards until all of a sudden it became quiet, calm, sunny, and warmer. I could see folks down at the bottom. Ah! Civilization! At that point, I could relax and enjoy the rest of my ride down Cornice. At the bottom, I had to basically chip the ice off my sunglasses, wipe the snow off my whole body and endure the pain on my cheeks. They felt like they were bleeding but, luckily, the were just dark red. I was so relieved that this ordeal was over. Wow.
Later, as we went to the bar for well-deserved break (and a Bloody Mary), my friend had videoed me and the timestamp on the video was 2:15 PM. I then browsed on my iPhone to the Mammoth meteorological site where they have historical weather data from the past hour, the past 24 hours, etc. Looking at this data for 2:15, the winds up there were a constant 60 MPH, with gusts up to 70 MPH. Whew! Near hurricane strength!
It was definitely a unique experience for me and I'll do it again, but not in high winds. My new rule--"When the gondola is stopped, stay away from the top".
