Tokopah Ice Climb and Snowshoe Races;
Part Two - A Clarification
by SCMA Member Gary Embrey

Having been informed by my erstwhile partner Dan (El Taciturno) Brosnahan that the owner of the Circle X ranch has referred to us as "benighted chocolate guzzlers" I feel obligated to clarify the situation and uphold the honor of the noble Native American art of snowshoeing: Heeding Peter Green's advice "Never mix snowshoes and SKIS!!" (proof that a few of us actually do attend monthly meetings) non SKIER Dan and his semi non SKIER partner set out one day early. Arriving at Sequoia we lost some precious time ogling Moro Rock before discovering I'd cleverly forgotten the Golden Eagle Pass. The ranger believed me but only after he asked "Can you tell me what's on the back?" Seeing my blank stare Dan made a quick save, "It's a picture of Devil's Tower." "Well at least I know one of you has a pass," quipped the ranger and we were in freebie! Always be sure to memorize the picture on the back of the pass!! Parking at the end of the road we geared up, tested the snow (I'd feared armpit deep powder) and set off determined to make the "easy 2 mile hike" in before dark.

It got dark fast. It got darker. It got reeaal daaaark! Finding the faint SKI tracks by headlight wasn't easy, in fact it was impossible. We stopped. Half an hour's energetic tromping in circles finally produced a semi solid tent platform for our bivy. It got cold. It got colder. i Hijole! It got REAL GODDAMNED COLD!! "Hot water coming right up" I told Dan only to discover that the O ring of the XGK stove was designed by the same cretins who designed the O ring of the space shuttle! Cold and inflexible the O ring didn't seal. Gas spurted out of the pump. ??!!'`%&!!?!@#!!! Into the tent, into the sleeping bag. What to eat? Milagro of milagros, Dan whipped out a 500 gram bar of Swiss chocolate (he's got connections in Basel). 'Riiip' went the wrapper and CRACK went my teeth. It was frozen solid! I grabbed my Stubai ice tool with its razor sharp ring adze and VOILA instant bite size pieces. 300 grams of chocolate later we relaxed to wait for sleep. Dan entertained me with tales of his Alaskan Close Encounters of the Grizzly Kind while I countered with BMTC horror stories about frost nip, frost bite, and hypothermia. It backfired. Dan was sure every whoooosh of settling snow was a bear while I was sure my numb toes would have to be amputated. Eventually we grew tired of watching our breath condense, freeze, and fall, back on us before it reached the top of the tent and fell asleep. At that very minute three so called hardmen and a hardwoman were luxuriating in a VW CAMPER!! These sybarites, led by Henke The Hedonist, had the gall to leave a minimum registering thermometer outside the van outside where WE were and gleefully reported a low of -15 Celsius. (In deference to the many engineers and other technoid SCMA types I perversely use the metric system). We already knew it was cold: water in an insulated carrier inside the tent froze!

At 9:45 the next morning we were overtaken by 5 SCMA members on SKIS. All had found the going easy as two hardy souls had thoughtfully broken trail for them. After a few looks at our snowshoes, with expressions ranging from disbelief to total derision, they left us behind. Only GC and TR (both rumored to have used snowshoes) showed any respect or empathy for the noble art of snowfloundering. "I'm getting SKIS," said my partner. Already feeling like the Rodney Dangerfield of Sequoia I was shocked at such perfidy "Et to Dan??" Stoically we floundered on. Quickly ( relatively speaking-we were using snowshoes) we arrived at the falls. The SKIERS were waiting there and one had already found running water under the snow. We were soon pressed into service as tent site stompers but there were no signs of increasing respect for our snowshoes. Snowshoes off, crampons on, we went climbing.

The ice was thin, rotten, and had running water behind it! Even the Hardman from Prague wanted a rope. We followed him up a short pitch to a snow covered terrace to another pitch to another terrace to a thin pitch to the top. It was cold, my hands were cold, my fingers were cold, the ice was cold, the snow was cold, large chunks of ice bounced off my helmet when I belayed, even larger chunks bounced off the rocks below me when I hacked furiously with my Stubais, it was great!! First Alois, then Dan, me, the Hedonist, and finally the hubsches Nemetski from Bratislava topped out. Gerry and Tom (El Barbudo) Randall entertained themselves on another climb by pouring ice water out of their overmitts. Such fun! Back to camp. A quick attempt to diagnose and fix the XGK proved fruitless. Too much pressure and a frozen O ring Feynman Effect. Not to worry Rich (aka Henke the Hedonist) and his famous hanging stove saved the day. A few trips to the water hole and 200 grams of Swiss chocolate got us some hot water. After the first night it was uncomfortably warm, - 7 Celsius, so Dan and I had trouble sleeping. We talked about SKIS, ice climbing, SKIS, the weather, SKIS, ice tools, SKIS, plastic boots, SKIS, crampons, renting SKIS, monopoints, learning to SKI, stoves, and buying SKIS. We fell asleep dreaming of SKIS.

Sunday we were back on the ice. Dan got out the rope and said "What are we going to lead?" "Lead?" It was our first time on ice, it was our first time on rotten ice, it was our first time on rotten, dripping, crumbling ice, my crampons were dull, my tools were slippery, my fingers were cold - we could follow Alois, or Gerry, or Elena, or Rich, or Tom! I'd just seen crumbling ice precipitate a 20 foot glider (one of those soft VW camper types) so why lead? "That's what we came for." said Dan, unimpressed by my logic. He was right. Up went Dan on two tied off screws, rotten ice showering his trembling belayer (I wasn't cold having cleverly brought a duvet). What the hell. I went up. Frenzied hacking with my tools brought me to the belay. iOrale! I was hot! To Dan's chagrin I suddenly insisted on leading the second, longer, better, pitch. I started up a shallow dihedral. 3 meters up I looked down. No pro. ARRGH! It was SNARG time. Happily pounding on one of Alois' SNARGs I clipped it before it was all the way in. It felt GOOD! Hack, kick, pull up, hack, kick, pull up, put 'n a screw-clip, hack, kick, pull up. Wallow through powder across first terrace to second headwall, hack, kick, pull up, too thin for pro, feeling good, hack, kick, pull up, run it out. One more terrace, one low angle wall and it was belay time. Dan came up quickly with just two cleaned pieces. I was sure I'd put in more! We warmed our fingers high fiving each other. Postholing back to camp we speculated on how quickly the SKIERS would pass us up on the way out. In 10 minutes? In 10 seconds? We loaded up and went. Across the canyon we looked back. Damn! The SKIERS were already following.

Grimly I set off hoping to gain a decent interval. After 20 minutes of huffing and puffing Dan looked at me "Trying to beat them out?" "Naah, just give 'em a run for the money." We continued frantic: frenziedly, frenetically, floundering our flimsy flip flops thru the frigid, frozen, forest. Thirty minutes later we looked back. No SKIERS! Where were they? A horrible thought occurred. Had they found a short cut? No way! Dan again voiced a keen desire to buy SKIS. "We gotta get SKIS!" As usual, he was right. Maybe we could beat them out. We looked at the snow shovel on Dan's pack and grinned at each other. "Be terrible if someone dug a BIG hole in the trail wouldn't it?" We chuckled evilly. Naaah, just kidding. Besides they outnumbered us. We slogged on. Eventually a smiling Elena glided gracefully past followed, after a bit, by a smiling Rich. "It'll be nice to SKI on a trail without all those snowshoe holes." he said, smiling and swooshed off before we could unstrap our ice axes. Five minutes later Tom politely passed. Or maybe his heavy beard just hid that SKIER'S grin. Almost out, we chatted with two cross country SKIERS and just about reached the end of the trail as a sweating Gerry SKIED up. Several nanoseconds later Alois schussed up. iAve Maria Purisima! We had actually beaten the leaders out! A photo op, snowshoes raised in semi triumph, a quick dinner at the Sequoia Cafeteria, an Alois-led admiration session for Gerry's new EuroTrad look (his new Tyrolean hat mit Feder and Alpeeeneeest pin goes great with his waxed moustache), and we split for LA.

PS: MSR stoves are great but you can work wonders with a can of Sterno and a sierra cup.

PPS: Sherpa snowshoes for sale cheap, used once.