She Chose All That Altitude
Ralston Trip Report April 2024
I remember going to the doctor a couple of years ago for an annual check-up, knowing I was 5’4’’, only for the nurse to inform me I was "a little taller than 5’3"." I was devastated. As my friends know—I feel very tall. I recently read (and deeply related to) this quote: “I know height is the luck of the draw, but it felt like she chose all that altitude.” So, needless to say, when I arrived at the trail and saw I would be skinning up with five 6ft+ men, I thought we were all basically the same height. Eazy peazy. I quickly learned, however, that IRL height has its advantages—particularly when you’re exhausted on the second lap because, well, it’s the second lap.
I wasn’t sure who was going to be on the tour. First, one person came to our house. Then we caravanned to another person’s house in three different cars, picked up tow more, and by the time we got to the trailhead, we had six folks in tow and about as many vehicles.
The trail up Ralston started along a ridge with some skin tracks, and it was warm—so warm that within 30 minutes, we were all peeling off layers. This is pretty typical for spring backcountry skiing. However, about 45 minutes in, we started noticing a trail of discarded gear. First a glove, then a jacket, then a shirt, then another glove. Were they high? Playing strip poker? Unwilling to carry the extra weight? We passed other people and asked if it was their clothing and received resounding nos. The case remains unsolved, but I like to believe someone out there skied down in just her socks and beacon.
Eventually, the ridge line ended, but the uphill did not. In a shocking plot twist, I wasn’t the weakest link! I actually felt pretty good. The air was crisp, my energy chews were keeping me alive, and for once in my life, my leggos weren’t the limiting factor.
Near the top, the trees thinned out, revealing spectacularly white mountains in every direction. The 6ft+ men could probably see even more of the horizon, but I was just out here living my best slightly lower-altitude life.
At the summit, we faced a decision: ski down the way we came or take the absolutely pristine, untouched powder line below us, which would add another 1,400 feet of skinning. (We took the powder.)
At the bottom, I peered up at what we’d have to climb back up and felt tired.
I forgot to mention this before, but this was actually the second time I had skied Ralston. The first time was day 2 of my very first backcountry tour that was part of a multi-day snow camping trip. So far on this trip, we hadn’t re-skied anything I had done except for the last 15 ft to the summit block, but peering up, I was immediately taken back to my February 2019 self, looking up at a huge mountain and feeling unwell for what was ahead…so yeah, that probably didn’t help.
At the top, I had put on all my layers before skiing down. When we were ready to go up again, I lacked the will to take off any of the layers like our strip poker friend from earlier since the temperature had started dropping. But within minutes, I was overheating and trapped in a cruel game of Do-I-stop-and-take-off-layers-and-immediately-get-dropped-or-keep-moving-and-sweat-myself-to-hypothermia? Meanwhile, my body was running on last night’s dinner—vegetarian hot pot, aka delicious delicious salty water with some veggies.
Eventually, I stopped and took off layers and was dropped. I soothed my ego with some Charli XCX and some other pop female phenomenons until I caught back up with my group.
At this point, it was snowing, so we quickly transitioned and then started heading back down. The way down was a little precarious—I skied through some dirt, logs, and rocks—but also kind of fun.
When we got back to the car after 8 miles and +/- 4k elevation, of course, some of the 6fters didn’t feel like they had gotten enough. Thankfully, we had come in separate cars, so I split off to go home and eat all the meat and carbs, while other did a lap on Emerald Chutes. Win Win.
Awed and excited by your adventures!