People have been skiing at Tuckerman Ravine on Mount Washington for over 9 decades. It’s a legendary skiing destination in the Northeast, owing to its stalwart springtime snowpack, its extreme nature, and its convivial friendly atmosphere. Plus, there’s no costly lift tickets required, because there’s no lifts. If you want to ski Tuckerman, better be prepared to carry your gear up the mountain.
Me, I don’t especially want to ski Tuckerman Ravine, because despite having mastered the piddly black trails at Wachusett mountain, I’m still a looong ways away from displaying the skill and technique required to ski Tuckerman Ravine with my pride and my skeleton intact. But Mr. P, who was born on skis, was game. So we bided our time, watching the weather forecasts and avalanche reports in anticipation of conditions like last Saturday’s. Owing to either global warming or just a fluke pre-spring preview, Saturday proved to be a day of uncommon warmth — many people remarked it was the earliest in the season they have ever skied Tucks (as the regulars call it).
We arrived at the Tuckerman Ravine trailhead at 9am and parked on Route 16 amid hundreds of other skiers. Mr. P attached his telemark skis to his backpack and prepared to suffer for roughly the next 2 hours to Hermit Lake. I carried water, food, and a lightweight camping chair that attached to my backpack. If I was going to be a spectator, I wanted to spectate in comfort. The chair and I caught some amused looks and several comments along the way: “You bring a newspaper, too?” one man asked.
Ready for the Hike
The snow on the Tuckerman Ravine trail was packed enough that we could sustain a steady pace in our winter boots. I, not having 20 pounds of gear strapped to my back, faired a little better than most. Overall, the crowd was much more ambulatory than when we hiked Tuckerman’s Ravine last summer.
The upward trek
We reached Hermit Lake in a little less than 2 hours. What a scene! Everyone was grabbing a snack and preparing their gear before ascending their chosen ski route.
Base of Tuckerman Ski Area, with the looming ravine
Mr. P wanted to ski The Lip, so we continued up the Tuckerman Ravine trail. The footing got a bit trickier and the wind picked up.
Headed to Lunch Rocks, with the Lip in the background
I settled in at Lunch Rocks, and Mr. P, after putting on his telemark boots, continued to hike up the ravine. I relaxed on my chair and watched the skiers trudge past the rocks up the ravine. Thanks to his garish pants, I could watch Mr. P steadily ascend the Ravine.
The Ski March
As a lazy observer who fears heights, it’s hard for me to say what is the bigger challenge of skiing Tuckerman Ravine: Going up or going down? Mr. P adamantly says that going up is harder; he reports witnessing a fair amount of anguish while ascending the ravine, including his own. A steep set of snow stairs had been established by his predecessors, but the wind became fierce, and some people had difficulty staying upright.
Mr. P’s View of Wildcat Mountain
But surely temporary bodily anguish is worth this view:
View from the near-top of ravine’s wall (squint to see skiers on other routes)
Meanwhile, I lounged at Lunch Rocks in my chair, watching the action. One skier launched himself off a crop of rocks and took off top-speed down the ravine, with turns so tight that his thighs nearly grazed the snow. The crowd erupted in cheers as the skier zoomed past us, pumping his fist twice in the air. Others were not so victorious, and more than a few skiers tumbled down the wall, their skis and poles jettisoned in every direction. The crowd would let out a sympathetic, pained “Aw-oof!” As one such snowboarder lay in the snow, a chunk of ice broke away from the headwall. The ice came nowhere near the felled boarder, but the crowd began their customary warning call of “Ice! Ice!” “Wake up, man!” people were yelling, and the medics looked prepared to mobilize, but the snowboarder picked up his head and got up.
This whole scene made me fear for Mr. P, who was beyond my sight on top of the ravine’s wall. Finally, I saw him. I couldn’t make out his telltale pants, but his style — the relaxed bent-knee stance, the graceful pronounced jumps — was unmistakable.
Mr. P on the Lip
He didn’t earn any applause, but who cares? He made it down!
Yeh!
We sat and relaxed for a bit, as Mr. P recounted his journey and we watched other skiers. The ravine was really starting to fill up, although there were a lot more people hanging out than actually skiing.
Skiers in Tuckerman Ravine
In mid-afternoon, we decided to head down. Mr. P could ski down the Sherburne Ski Trail, but I had to walk back down the Tuckerman Ravine trail. Given the soft condition of the snow, it was easy for me to sustain a bizarre downhill running gait that had me in the parking lot in 40 minutes. “A chair? Now that’s a bit ridiculous,” some guy commented as I galloped past him and his friend. I half-turned around and called “Ridiculous compared to what?”
Meanwhile, Mr. P was descending Sherburne with his telemark brethren, his legs absolutely burning but completely happy and fulfilled from his single run at Tuckerman Ravine.
Sherburne Ski Trail
On the way back to the hotel, we stopped to get some beer. Of course, I had to get…
Tuckerman Pale Ale
