9 Search Results for ""seth waterfall""

• Through the Lens: Jason Thomps Through the Lens: Jason Thompson

  • From: TetonGravityResearch
  • Description:
    Words by Kim Havell and Jason Thompson
    Images by Jason Thompson
    
    
    Upon graduating from Montana State University in 2004, photographer Jason Thompson joined Big Sky’s Ski Patrol and also worked as a mountain guide in Washington and Alaska, steadily building a career in adventure photography. His focus is on creating skiing and climbing imagery that captures the essence of action adventure.
    
    
    With a style that Thompson describes as “raw and unposed”, he strives for simplicity. His images are the product of his lifestyle, telling stories inspired by nature, adventure, and the human experience. At twelve years of age, Thompson decided to pursue photography with an old-school Olympus camera. He took photography classes in high school while shooting action photos of skiing, backpacking, and soccer.
    
    
    
    
    
    Thompson is currently on an expedition to University Peak in Alaska with friend and ski partner, Forrest Coots. When asked about Thompson, Coots shares, “JT has a strong skill set built from years of guiding. He is comfortable climbing and skiing big lines, while also shooting, which allows him to capture that raw-feeling. His images reflect his travels through the mountains via ice climbing and ski mountaineering in iconic locations around the world.” 
    
    
    
    
    The Start—Insights from Jason
    As a kid, I was drawn to the mountains and loved the winter months. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest I was exposed to some of the finest mountain terrain in the lower 48. The Olympic Mountains served as my launching point for adventuring as well as capturing the escapades with my camera. The Washington experience extended from childhood through high school. 
    
    
    A high school friend gave me a flyer for Montana State University. That was the first time I realized the power of marketing; there was a skier on the front page of the flyer. I was sold. I had also seen many of Kris Erickson's pictures and read many of Hans Saari's words. It was an easy move to a place where two creative adventurers that I had looked up to had made their home base. In the fall of 1999, I moved to Bozeman, without ever having been there, two days before classes started. Five years later I graduated with a degree in photography. The community in Bozeman welcomed me and it’s been home ever since. 
    
    
    
    
    Breaking Through
    For me, the photography process has more been a series of ups and downs with a continual ebb and flow. There have also been great moments that have provided me with bigger surges. 
    
    
    In 2008, Tyler Jones, Seth Waterfall, and I received a Hans Saari Ski Exploration grant for a trip to Mount Shkhara in the Republic of Georgia, located in the Svaneti Region. I had to plan a major trip from a climbing/skiing perspective as well as from a photography perspective. It was a great learning exercise. The expedition was powerful for the three of us, visiting a place that we knew little about. It left a mark on me in my young photography career.
    
    
    In issue #36 of Alpinist Magazine I had a double page spread. The article, written by Joe Josephson, was about ice climbing in Hyalite Canyon here in Bozeman, Montana. I was humbled and thrilled at this incredible opportunity to be involved.
    
    
    
    
    
    Inspiration
    During my junior year of university, Kris Erickson came in and gave a talk to my photography business class. It was groundbreaking for me. I remember being blown away by the images he was showing, the adventures he had been on, and the people and places he had seen. It was an inspiring forty minutes for me. I remember thinking that, yep, I could do that for work. 
    
    
    Since then I have had a chance to get to know Kris better. The insight he provided that day and since then has motivated me to follow suit in many ways and has helped me to carefully evaluate how I mold and shape my photography and my brand.  I have heard Kris mention so many nuggets of wisdom over the years. When I used to shoot slides, I built myself a light table, made of out of cheap plywood and plexiglass. I would write quotes or ideas that I had heard which inspired me or had caused me to take pause. Some of my favorite nuggets written on that light table were from Kris. I wish I had kept that light table—somewhere during the many moves I lost it.
    
    
    
    
    Safety
    I have always wanted to be a photographer and that has always been my number one goal. But, I tactically decided early on to pursue ski patrolling and guiding in order to give me a solid foundation of management, in particular from a safety standpoint. I heard Will Gadd explain his philosophy and outlook on life as a “positive, negative outlook.” Meaning, the universe is out to kill us. As Will put it, if you get hit with that piece of ice that is your fault. No one else can be blamed for that. He preached personal responsibility. I agree.
    
    
    
    
    
    As a ski patroller at Big Sky Ski Resort, I learned a lot over the years about avalanches and helping others with medical incidents and avalanche mitigation. I also started mountain guiding, spending time in the Alaska Range and on Mt Rainier.
    
    
    
    
    I have a very open dialogue with athletes with whom I am shooting. Safety is number one. Just because there is a camera does not mean that you have to accept a risk that you wouldn't normally take. The industry trend is to make everything look very sexy. Often times the careful calculations are not shown or exposed. That is one of the things I want to bring to the table as a photographer. Showing the process of how the hazard is being evaluated and what steps are being taken in order to minimize “our” exposure to that risk or hazard. 
    
    
    
    
    
    The Creative Process
    The creative visual process has only begun to take shape in the vertical terrain. I think that we have just seen the beginning. As a visual adventure artist I try and pre-visualize how an athlete will ski a certain line or climb a certain line. I use the athlete as my brush stroke on a blank canvas to generate the exclamation point to the already stunning landscape. 
    
    
    Hans Saari stated this idea beautifully: “ The vibrancy of the line means everything. Like a cello, there is no sound until the string is taut. The more you struggle, the tighter the string, the greater the music.” 
    
    
    
    The Business
    With the current status of the industry, it takes creativity to approach the visual side of things and to see things from new angles. If I use a business model that my mentors used previously, chances are that I probably will not last too long in this industry. 
    
    
    The digital age has shifted many things. But, I believe that relationships propel us forward. It’s the human connection. As a viewer of images, you are drawn to the content that captures that soul. One of the quotes that I had written on my plywood light table twelve years ago was from Kris Erickson—“It’s about the relationships.“ 
    
    
    
    
    
    Just like any business that is starting out, a plan of action has to be put into place. Still, taking that first step into the unknown is still probably one of the biggest adventures upon which I have embarked. But just like climbing or skiing a big objective, after the first few pitches your nerves calm down. I have been able to realize that “yeah, I can do this.” It’s something that you have to commit to. It’s a lifestyle. Creative artists pour their lives into doing what makes them passionate. 
    
    
    
    
    Partnerships
    Time spent with friends exploring and adventuring inspires me the most. I've found a greater personal joy in the expedition style shooting versus the one-day shoots. It is a chance to get to know my subjects in greater detail and see more of their personalities shine.
    
    
    
    
    
    There are several folks with whom I really love working:
    
    
    - Ice climber Andres Marin has been a great friend of mine for a very long time. His energy is contagious. Andres has a drive for perfection and professionalism that is very admirable.
    
    
    - Forrest Coots and I met for the first time while in Chile during the fall of 2011 on a ski trip. We meshed right away. I enjoy Forrest's desire to take trips to places that require some thoughtful planning. Forrest and I have sat in our tents during storms and shoot texts back and forth dreaming about trips and different ideas that spark our passions for skiing in the mountains.
    
    
    - Tyler Jones and I met in 2005 while we were guiding for the same company. Tyler has since gone on to finish his AMGA guiding certifications as the youngest American to complete the process. His meticulous attention to detail is somewhat astonishing. Tyler is one of my best friends. From the Republic of Georgia, Montana, Alaska and La Grave, our mountain time has played a huge role in our friendship. I've learned a ton from Tyler in regards to hazard mitigation.
    
    
    - I was recently on a shoot with Conrad Anker. His vision, dedication and outlook on life is inspiring. He would prefer to talk about his new route the “Nutcracker” than talk about his last summit on Everest without oxygen. His psych for climbing is contagious, his energy transcends generations, his talents are inspiring to watch, and his mentorship helps many. Conrad never stops learning and he is a proponent for adaptation. That’s just rad. 
    
    
    
    
    The Future of the Industry
    I believe the future involves a lot of creative collaboration. Sharing ideas and collaborating can be very rewarding. It will most likely evolve and morph on a much larger scale. I know of some climbing projects that are in the works based on wide scale submissions from climbers willing to submit content from a whole season’s worth of footage from one location. So instead of one or even five filmers being involved, there will be fifty contributing work. 
    
    
    
    Career Highlights
    - Every year I make a little more money than the previous year as a photographer.
    
    
    - Having my first image published in a Patagonia catalog and then having them re-license it for a store display in the Seattle store—that was a goal of mine that year and it felt really good to nail it. 
    
    
    - Being awarded the Hans Saari Ski Exploration Grant for a Ski trip to Mt Shkhara in the Republic of Georgia. 
    
    
    - Double page spread in Alpinist Magazine #36
    
    
    - The moment I realized that I actually had an audience that was listening to me and actively following my work. It was a moment that shifted my mindset and challenged me to work even harder. It wasn't just my mom who was looking at my pictures anymore. 
    
    
    - Being asked to give a talk at Montana State University in the same business photography class in which I had heard Kris Erickson give his talk. 
    
    
    - The friends I have made and the many interesting people that I have been fortunate to meet over the years because of photography. 
    
    
    - Being invited on the Cerro Castillo ski trip in Patagonia with Drew Stoecklein, Chuck “The Pit Viper King” Mumford and Forrest Coots to work on and create the short film “Take The Ride.”
    
    
    To view more of Jason's work, drop into http://www.jthompsonphotography.com
    
    
    
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• Through The Lens Of Jim Harris Through The Lens Of Jim Harris

  • From: kimhavell
  • Description:

    Chris Davenport skis a chute in Antarctica. Photo by Jim Harris.
    
    “Through The Lens” is a regular column on TetonGravity.com that highlights the work of a photographer in the ski and snowboard industries. The series exists to celebrate the photographers who bring us extraordinary imagery, to get to know who they are, and to understand their process.
    
    Jim Harris is a TGR success story. An athlete with an artistic eye and a photographer of great strength and perseverance, Jim hit the big time from an unlikely start. Through honest and thoughtful posts on the TGR web forums, Jim unwittingly developed a huge following and grabbed the attention of industry players. Proving himself time and time again in the field and at the computer, Jim has photographs, stories, and drawings featured across varied media spots, print and online, in the world of adventure sport. He is humble, adventurous, and bright, and gets things done.
    
    Jim has been behind the lens for Sweetgrass Productions, Powderwhore Productions, Camp4Collective, First Ascent, Powder Magazine and more. From scaling 20,000-foot peaks in Bolivia to descending steep couloirs in Antarctica to negotiating a pack raft down Alaskan rivers, this motivated talent keeps at it as he proves that with heart and hard work, success will be a reality.
    
    Jim’s sincere and straight-up approach resonates with his audiences. Follow his creative journeys as “GnarWhale” on TGR and as Perpetual Weekend online at his Blog, Facebook page, Instagram, and Twitter sites. www.perpetualweekend.com
    
    Forrest McCarthy melts water at a ridge line campsite as a storm rolls in. Photo by Jim Harris.
    
    The Start.
    
    I was first interested in photography when I was a kid playing with this all-metal Nikormat that my dad had brought back from Japan a decade or two before I was born. I didn’t develop a twitchy shutter button finger until I was around 16 and started documenting the graffiti scene where I grew up. Looking back at those boxes of prints, I was pretty much just mechanically recording ephemeral art. A few years later I extracted myself from that scene by moving to Montana where I enrolled in Wildlife Biology and Fine Art courses. The blend of planning, creativity, daring, and community that made the street art scene compelling also runs through mountain culture. It didn’t take but a few weeks in Montana before I began pointing my camera at people on mountains.
    
    Studying Wildlife Biology seemed like a good route to finding a job that combined adventure with critical thinking, plus I was good at plant and animal identification. An empirical science education has proved to be a good framework for learning about the world, even though I never took up wearing one of those flat-brim Smokey hats. The fine art courses were just for kicks, but I regret missing the memo that my university had a Photo Journalism school.
    
    Andrew McLean skis the Chugach Mountains in Alaska. Photo by Jim Harris.
    
    TGR.
    
    While I’d been registered on TetonGravity.com’s message board for years, I rarely visited until I moved to the Wasatch Mountains in 2007 and discovered it offered a way to meet backcountry touring partners. Then I began posting photos of ski tours and that led to invites on more missions. One of those photo essays prompted Gordy Peifer to offer me a spot on one of his Straightline Advenutures Ski Camps, and another trip report garnered an invite to shoot with Powderewhore Productions in Alaska. That AK trip, in turn, resulted in my first print-published words and photos (Powder Magazine 40.1 “Beast out of the Earth”). Then I won a TGR and Smith Optics photo contest where the prize was an Ice Axe Expeditions ski cruise to Antarctica.
    
    I was sharing just for the sake of sharing and that idealism struck a chord with people. If I suddenly couldn’t sell photos and stories about the sort of trips I like to take, I’d be okay going right back to doing them just for the intrinsic rewards.
    
    Hi-fives with Andrew McLean after discovering and skiing a rad chute in the Wrangell Mountains of Alaska. Photo by Jim Harris.
    
    Inspiration.
    
    Media-makers who also are high-performance athletes hold a role I admire. Photographers who can climb and ski alongside top athletes are the ones who, most often I think, bring back something insightful to share.
    
    Galen Rowell about tops my list of “photographers I wish had reincarnated as me.”
    
    Christian Pondella has crafted a career shooting photos with skis on his pack, an ice axe in one hand and that shines through in his photos.
    
    The Camp 4 Collective team brings boots-on-the-ledge perspective to their productions and it’s apparent in the art and illustrations of Renan Ozturk, Jeremy Collins and Adam Haynes.
    
    Leslie Anthony writes with legitimacy in his words and Fitz Cahall’s Dirtbag Diaries carry that too.
    
    What all of them have in common is this gonzo journalism approach where, because they can hang athletically, they’re able to convey a first-person narrative that offers candid, humanizing insights into the lives of super-human athletes.
    
    On the business side, I admire the people who help others to create content in our ski media ecosystem. When done well, enabling other peoples’ creativity is good for one’s own income. The TGR Forums empowered me and I hope the web ad revenue more than pays for the server space.
    
    Photographers Adam Barker and Chase Jarvis both open source some of their knowledge via web interviews and tutorials. They’re investing their knowledge in aspirant photographers while legitimizing their expertise at the same time. It’s both altruistic and shrewd.
    
    Sunrise on Illimani, Bolivia, while the city of La Paz still sleeps. Photo by Jim Harris.
    
    The Challenge.
    
    I want to be a really good storyteller. Sometimes when I speak, my thoughts branch into a tangent, then a tangent of that, until I’m caught in a spiraling fractal of storylines and everyone has stopped listening. So it takes some intention for me to spin a story well. Photo essays keep me on point and the narrative jogging along.
    
    At some heady level, wilderness adventure stories like the ones I want to tell are another variant of Joe Campbell’s monomyth: the hero marches off into the wild, conquers something untamable, perhaps then realizes that the real conquest happened inside his or her head, and then returns home to share the new wisdom.
    
    My challenge is that I don’t want to just tell those stories but want to actually watch them unfold too. Going up and down difficult mountains with interesting people carves as close to living that myth as I know how to get.
    
    Alan Schwer hops down a steep ski line at 19,000 feet on Volcan Pomarape, Bolivia. Photo by Jim Harris.
    
    The Business.
    
    The business-side of working as a self-employed creative is a murky learning curve. There’s no roadmap to “making it” and even things as dry as sending photos for an editor to review turn out to involve diplomatic maneuvering. Many working photographers will tell you that your photos are only valuable if you keep ‘em squirreled away, unseen by anyone but the editor, right until they appear in print. While I see the wisdom in that approach, the only reason I’m paid to take photos now is because I’ve enjoyed sharing pictures in the past. So, I’ve continued to post photos on TGR, though I’ve become more strategic about sharing.
    
    The ski photo world is a tough one to find recognition in, in part because much of it has fallen prey to this syndrome of collaborative competition where somebody says “Oh! Look at what they’re doing.  We should be doing that too.” Photo buyers, photo makers, and athletes all push one another to converge. One outcome is that photographers face an uphill battle when it comes to creating marketable work that also conveys individual style.
    
    On the other hand, who wants to feel like they’re leaving money on the table because they’re too elitist to take routine photos? Faced with that question, I’m no strict idealist. I’m not exactly shooting decorative cupcakes, but I’ve dug into commercial projects, studio opportunities, and jobs outside the ski industry. Sometimes they feel like art school assignments where students replicate some Old Master’s painting. Even if it’s not an approach that I’m particularly interested in, it’s impossible not to glean something useful. Those Elinchrom-lit sets are great for learning technique but they’re not where my aspirations lie.
    
    Tyler Jones leads a climb in the Waddington Range while Seth and Solveig Waterfall follow. Photo by Jim Harris.
    
    Being Diverse.
    
    When I was about ten I was way into these Redwall books about mice doing medieval things. My parents took me to a reading by the author, Brian Jacques, at the neighborhood bookstore and he described to us kids around him that he’d worked as a sailor, and a truck driver, and a milkman, and some jobs that I’ve forgotten before he eventually became a writer too. The notion that one could do a lot of things in a lifetime, rather than be stuck with just one profession, took root in my ten-year-old cortex that day.
    
    Photography has been my main focus for the last year or two, but it’s not my only outlet. I still dabble in woodcut printmaking, painting, shooting video, writing, and teaching. If this photo gig stops working out, I’ll always have the latitude to sidestep into one of these other roles.
    
    Solveig Waterfall skiing from the summit of Mt Waddington, BC over a cavernous crevasse. Photo by Jim Harris.
    
    Expedition Style.
    
    One thing that distinguishes me from the pack is that I like unstaged, one-take, expedition shooting. Long and difficult trips are full of little victories and disappointments and they make for great photographic moments. As a member of an expedition team, I share credit and blame for the ups and downs I’m chronicling. Every bit of the process from planning, traveling, climbing, skiing, cooking, laughing and just surviving together is rewarding.
    
    There are a couple big hurdles to being an expedition shooter. One is keeping one’s gear alive in the cold, wet, sandy, camera-killing places. That takes diligence but isn’t rocket surgery. Another is that one has to learn to suffer with grace. That takes practice and some balanced brain chemistry.
    
    The biggest hurdle, however, is managing the dual loyalties of being both a weight-pulling team member while also caring enough about one’s audience to stop helping your buddies and grab the camera. Jabbing a camera in someone’s face in a cruxy moment can be a bridge-burning move. It takes a pretty keen awareness of the group dynamic plus articulate communication to balance photographic and team needs.
    
    Before leaving for our first trip together, ski mountaineer Andrew McLean told me he was willing to ski for the camera but that he didn’t intend to re-hike anything for a missed shot. If you’ve skied with Andrew, you know that he zips uphill then right back down. Either I had to bully him into slowing down or learn to be quick on the draw, get the shot the first time, and not sulk when I misfired. I went with the second approach and haven’t regretted it.
    
    One-take shooting is an ethos I’ve embraced. Shooting actual skiing down actual lines, as opposed to the ubiquitous one-turn-wonder approach, feels truthy. As a bonus, there’s a lot more skiing involved in a “work” day.
    
    Chris Davenport skiing in Antarctica. Photo by Jim Harris.
    
    Turning Point.
    
    Three years ago, three friends and I spent a month backpacking and then rafting across Wrangell St Elias National Park. That trip changed my view of what’s achievable by a small, unsponsored team. I felt empowered by our success and humbled by the times I faltered.
    
    Back at home, I tried to summarize the story via a long column of captioned photos. The resulting trip report garnered a lot of attention that I never expected. Something about our mix of ambition, unique route, and amateur status really resonated with people, and not just the outdoorsy ones. Traffic poured in from Digg, Reddit and other link-sharing sites.
    
    Years later, I’m still feeling the reverberations of that trip. I’ve been back to the Wrangells once and have plans for another trip this year. I’m also packing today for a crazy Mexico adventure that I’ve been invited on because a couple of Alaska’s most-audacious wilderness travelers saw my photo essay and thought I’d be a good fit for their team. Looking back, it is comical how many doors have opened for me based on something that I never guessed would have much impact.
    
    Forrest McCarthy midway through a 120 mile traverse of the Abaroka Beartooth Mountains. Photo by Jim Harris.
    
    Future Direction.
    
    There’s been this recent uptick in the ski industry’s acknowledgment that what we do is risky. At a fundamental level, action sports culture pushes the idea that “advancing the sport” or “pushing the envelope” is the loftiest goal an athlete can strive for. I think that presumption deserves some scrutiny because it is steering our risk-taking. We’re not going to revert to blue-square level skiing in movies but it’s worth acknowledging that there are perhaps less death-defying ways to “advance the sport.”
    
    For me, that means looking for trips that are challenging because they’re remote, or because they require an endurance component, or because they offer a quirky perspective on the norm. Both writers and photographers search for unique angles. As someone with a growing grasp of both pursuits, I’m positioned to connect interesting story ideas with smart photos.
    
    Jim Harris' Powder Magazine cover photo. Skier unknown.
    
    Game Changers.
    
    A few years ago, I watched an acquaintance trigger and then swept by an avalanche. It was formative.  It changed how I communicate with partners, how I plan for a tour, and is a continual reminder to make conservative choices.
    
    Soon after that incident, I began teaching avalanche classes. Now that I’ve shifted to proselytizing wilderness skiing for a living, teaching the prophylactic aspect of it feels essential. Not only does it feel like righteous work but teaching avy classes also helps keep my skills honed.
    
    At the other end of the spectrum, one of my photos is running on the cover of the new Powder Magazine Photo Annual. For someone who’s only been making a living as a photographer for just over a year, it’s like putting boots on at 9:30 and somehow still catching first chair. That cover isn’t recognition I’d expected to have so soon in my photo career, but I’m grateful for it.
    
    Want to shoot like Jim, start with some high end DSLR camera gear available at Amazon.com

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• Tyler Jones leads a climb in t Tyler Jones leads a climb in the Waddington Range while Seth and Solveig Waterfall follow. Photo by Jim Harris

  • From: kimhavell
  • Description:
    Tyler Jones leads a climb in the Waddington Range while Seth and Solveig Waterfall follow. Photo by Jim Harris
  • 4 months ago
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• Sierra Steeps In June — Keepin Sierra Steeps In June — Keepin’ Winter Alive Part 2

  • From: sethlightcap
  • Description:

    Summer backcountry shred missions in the Sierra are all about finding unique adventures that make up for the lack of snow. It’s also a time when ephemeral access windows open up that allow unusual means of getting to your destination. The quest to catch good snow conditions on classic lines using summer time only transportation becomes the game. When you pull it off and score an amazing outside-of-the-box summer shred day it’s a potent memory that motivates you to make it happen every season. Next thing you know, your winter always lasts until at least July, which is bitchin`.
    
    This June I rolled the dice on a couple go-to backcountry tours that both involve such summer oddities. I dare say we won big both days as the tours were thrilling start to finish and the steeps we got to slash were in surprisingly good condition despite the meager Sierra winter. Check out a few pics of the two adventures below and you’ll see why I don’t put my boards away in May.

    Words and Photos by Seth Lightcap

    
    Brennan Lagasse and I hopped on the mountain bikes for this early June mission into the Tahoe backcountry. We pedalled up a still gated but mostly melted out road. Spinning up the mountain weaving in and out of snow patches under a cool canopy of trees made for a very pleasant approach.
    
    A twenty five minute hike from the end of the road brought us to the top of this old school Tahoe chuting gallery. Nothing too crazy, but steep enough to slash some fun turns and feel the pull of the fall line.
    
    The chutes were fairly smooth, very few suncups anyway, and the snow was super rippable, deep corn.
    
    Looking ahead to a long summer I’ll take as much of this view as I can get.
    
    Brennan, my wife Allison and I hopped on a boat taxi with a bunch of fishermen to start our latest snow adventure in the Sierra. We got a few odd looks from the Cabela’s crowd but we were united under a shared vision - no one wanted to walk the horrendously long two miles to the end of the lake.

    Exiting the pontoon boat we hiked up slabs past slowly reawakening high elevation lakes. Allison had forgotten her shoes so she flip-flopped most of the approach. When she finally took off the flops, she put on her crampons. Quite the summer changeover.
    
    Here’s a shot from May 2012 of the couloirs we were going to ride. Couple hours from the boat we were looking down them.
    
    Brennan dropped in the skier’s right couloir and deftly negotiated a little choke to get through the business section. The snow could have been softer, but it was edgeable enough for a clean descent.
    
    Not too much snow left in the Sierra but it’s holding in a few places where it counts.
    
    Allison and I rode the skier’s left couloir which thankfully held softer snow. This left line is a little wider but it’s just as steep and has a spicy double fall line to keep things interesting.
    
    The snow turned to rock a couple hundred feet below the apron of the couloirs. Busting a few downclimbing moves on the gorgeous granite as the spray of a waterfall tickled our faces felt rather super however. It was yet another summer shred moment that made such a mission all worth it.

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• Interview: Behind The Lines Of Interview: Behind The Lines Of Ski Mountaineer Seth Waterfall

  • From: dankostrzewski
  • Description:

    

    December 2, 2011

    — Dan Kostrzeski

    Rainier Mountaineering, Inc. guide, former Crystal Mountain patroller and serious ski mountaineer Seth Waterfall spends his workdays guiding clients up massive alpine peaks in the world’s highest ranges. But on his days off, Waterfall sets his sights on deep overhead days or big vertical lines such as the first and unrepeatable ski descent of the Nisqually Ice Cliff on 14,411-foot Mount Rainier. Tetongravity.com caught up with Waterfall between guiding seasons for his recap on no-fall conditions, serious rockfall and skiing some of the world’s biggest lines.

    Teton Gravity Research: Describe the Ice Cliff line you skied on Mt Rainier last spring?

    Seth Waterfall: There is a feature on the mountain called the Nisqually Ice Cliff and it’s part of where the Nisqually Glacier comes off the summit and runs south and actually runs around this rock ridge. As you are descending the left side drops off a huge rock cliff so with the ice and the rock it’s probably a good 1,000-foot tall cliff. But last year with all the snow from La Nina, it’s the first time I’ve ever seen it, but there was a strip of snow that ran continuous between the rock ridge and the ice cliff. 

    If you skied down above the ice cliff, you could get over into this snow strip and ski down that. So two friends of mine, Tyler Jones and Andy Bond who both work at RMI with me, on April 21 we decided to go up to Camp Muir. We actually had another route in mind but this was our back-up plan.

    

    TGR: Why did you pick that line?

    SW: There are just a few routes on Rainier that haven’t been skied down. A lot of them are what people used to think of as really steep ice climbs, but now people are skiing down them — which is one of the coolest things about living in the Northwest, that you can ski down people’s favorite ice climbs.

    So we went up to Muir in a storm, but we had a good forecast so we went to Camp Muir woke up in the morning and had blue skies. We headed out from Camp Muir, which is at 10,000 feet elevation and went up to the summit in about 3 1/2 hours and investigated our line on the west side of the mountain that we wanted to ski. But we found lots of rime ice and water ice and not good snow. So we came back and decided to give the Ice Cliff a try, since no one had ever skied that, we believed.

    It went pretty straightforward, we were able to locate the entrance, ski down and the skiing was really exposed but not terribly steep — maybe 45 degrees and one small pitch of 50 degrees. But it was really firm so it was definitely heads-up skiing, no hip checking or anything like that. We skied it in about ten small pitches then just a little jump over the bergshrund. Actually, the trickiest part was weaving through the crevasses below the route and trying to get out of the Nisqually Glacier and onto the Muir snowfield.

    We popped out on that took a little break and decided to ski all the way down to the Nisqually bridge, which is about an 11,000 vertical foot run. 

    

    TGR: So was it a first ski descent of the Ice Cliff?

    SW: Well, a couple weeks after we did the trip I ran into a friend who said that Mike Hattrup skied it back in the nineties. I know Hattrup so I sent him an email and he said “no way”— that he’d never heard of anyone ever skiing it before. So I’m pretty confident that no one had ever skied it before.

    And now the whole thing has fallen apart — there’s about two miles of rock debris underneath. The whole cliff we skied down is detached and collapsed and totally changed forever, so nobody is ever really going to do it again. 

    Sounds like it was a super inspiring line?

    We were pretty psyched on it. Then just to have it fall apart after that is pretty weird.

    

    TGR: What do you think caused the cliff to crumble? 

    SW: I think it was all the snow that was sitting on it. Once it started to melt it was undermining the rock. It was obviously super unstable to begin with. Stuff like that happens every fifty years on Rainier — some big rockfall.

    

    _____

    Part 2 - Antarctica
    _____

    TGR: What was your most inspiring trip this past winter?

    SW: My most inspiring trip last winter was my trip to Antarctica with Peter Whittaker and Ed Viesturs. It’s a place I’ve wanted to go for a long time and it’s such a cool continent to go to. The terrain there is like nothing I’ve ever seen in my life and there are huge ice caps as far as the eye can see and then the Ellsworth Range sticks right out like a buzz saw —just a super straight line of craggy peaks. It’s a magic place and I’d love to go back.

    TGR: What surprised you most about the environment down there?

    SW: What surprised me the most was the reliance you have on technology down there. The reliance you have on your planes and fuel to get you in and out. Without the logistics set up down there, there is really nothing. And the feeling of remoteness, if I go to Africa or if I go to Asia I always feel like there are other people around, there are cites and all these other things — you feel remote when you are in the mountains, but you can basically walk out of any of those places. And in Antarctica you can’t walk out, there is no place to go.

    

    TGR: What is different about skiing in Antarctica?

    SW: It’s interesting because Antarctica is both the highest continent on earth and the driest continent on earth so they don’t receive very much precipitation at all, but what they do receive stays as snow. And it gets these really cool light effects and the snow blows around so it looks like diamonds hanging in the air. But the ski conditions were typically just a few inches of snow over a firm base and sometimes ice, so it’s way different than what I’m used to skiing in the Northwest, which is just tons and tons of sick powder.

    TGR: Anything different from an avalanche perspective down there?

    SW: Yeah, it’s funny from an avalanche stability perspective, because even on flat terrain you get this whompfing sound. Up here it would totally freak me out, but down there it’s really common — even on flat terrain that won’t avalanche, you get these big air pockets trapped in the snow and you can hear it rolling along for like a quarter mile. It would last forever. Then you could hear it moving down the valley, it was totally insane.

    But as far as avalanches, especially ice avalanches and cornice falls, they just don’t have them because the glaciers move so slow and it’s so cold there that you don’t really have seracs that collapse. We saw some debris and the guys that work down there said it was from two years ago. Where in Alaska or on Mount Rainier that stuff changes day by day. Down there it’s on the year-to-year program.

    

    TGR: What did you wind up skiing in Antarctica?

    SW: We ended up skiing some moderate stuff. The less steep stuff was really glaciated and there was lots of crevassing around. We actually got on some stuff around Union Glacier Camp, which is the main logistics base that you fly into. Around there it’s really variable from really sun affected and really hard snow to just a few inches of powder over really firm base. It could be good skiing but it also could be really bad skiing.

    And the wind goes to work on stuff pretty quick down there. It will blow snow from one side of the mountain to the other. Depending on the way the winds blowing the powder will either be on one side of the range or the other. 

    _____

    Part 3 - Denali
    _____ 

    TGR: Antarctica, the Ice Cliff and you’ve skied off Denali as well?

    SW: Yeah, one big ski descent on Denali. That was in 2009 right after I got back from Mount Everest. I met up with a my friend Tyler Jones and he had camp set up at 14,000 feet so we did one day from the airstrip to 7,000 feet, then to 14,000 feet, rested a day, then went to the summit and then skied back all the way.

    A lot of people down-climb the West Buttress, but we ended up skiing down it and spent another rest day and then skied all the way out.

    TGR: What was the toughest part of that trip?

    The toughest part of that trip was that I actually had Giardia from Katmandu and didn’t realize it. I was super sick up there. By the time I got done with that I’d just come from Everest, spent a few days with my folks and then went right up to Denali and every three days or so I’d be violently ill. By the time I got back home I’d lost twenty-five pounds. I was pretty weak by the time I’d got back.  

    TGR: Anything on your hit list for this winter that you’re excited about?

    SW: So this winter I’m excited to see La Nina coming back because I’m a Northwest guy. I’m pretty excited for a good ski season. I might get a chance to go back to Antarctica with Dave Hahn, so that’s in the works. That’s just one of the coolest places on Earth and I’d love to go back. In the springtime I’m possibly heading back to Everest — after a year off I’m ready to get back on the big one. And that’s it, that’s my horizon right now.

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