Enigma Gully ski descent - February 25, 2001

View up the upper reaches of the Middle Fork Snoqualmie, Chimney Rock on the left

Weekend ski plans were shaping up, and I offered Enigma Gully as a potential destination. Our last "attempt" ended with us standing in soggy snow at the base of Snoqualmie Mountain's south ridge, bailing because of dangerous snow conditions, crappy snow conditions, and crappy weather. The weather forecast then was actually fairly similar to that forecast for this weekend - not too bad - so we decided to go for it.

This time, instead of the weather being worse than forecast, it was much better. We set off right from the upper Alpental parking lot, and with a bit of poking around, navigated our way through the cliff band (booting straight up "Stream Direct"). Matt and I broke trail, while Greg lagged behind, rather exhausted from the previous day playing around on lower Drury Falls. Once out in the open, we changed from skis into crampons, and booted up the firm southwest slope leading to the summit of Snoqualmie. Peeking over the NW face, we spotted footprints winding up narrow snow ledges towards the New York Gully route (Grade IV, 5.8, A2, AI4). Wow, hardmen.

We continued up, and more anxious peeking finally resulted in us locating the entrance to Enigma Gully. The anticipation was incredible while making the last few steps over to it - it had been 10 months since I laid eyes upon it, with only deceiving photographs to remember it by. There it was. Steeper than I had remembered, and narrower. Considerably less snow than last year. Wow. Some definite sphincter action.

Me looking down into Enigma Gully from near the summit of Snoqualmie, and what I could see. first photo by Greg Mueller

We ditched the skis, and ran up to the summit, 5 minutes above. Just below the summit, I climbed down a bit, and from rocks between which I could see lots of empty air, found somewhat of a view spot into the couloir. I could see the middle section, continuous snow, and looking not too steep from this airy vantage. Reports of "step of really old steep and icy snow that would really suck to hit on skis" from someone who did it in January, had us a little worried.

We had the summit to ourselves, and it was only 11am - we kicked back and mellowed out for over an hour, enjoying the nearly breezeless sunny day, and watching the fog "build and fade" in Alpental Valley. I nearly forgot what we were planning to do today - in fact, I recall thinking "I'm glad I'm not climbing", enjoying instead the carefree, relaxed spirit of backcountry skiing - but then the realization would return, that we would be doing something just as scary.

Finally, the time came. We looked at each other, and knew that we had spent enough time lounging around. We headed down to the gully entrace. On the way, I let Matt and Greg pass me, and I went to peek over the edge one more time - I thought I had seen a spot that would give a good view of the whole couloir. However, the view I thought existed, did not in fact, and the feeling of the "unknown" remained.

The descent begins just below the red arrow, and continues down into the depths in the bottom of the picture. Yikes!

I arrived at the krummholz gateway to The Enigma, and saw Matt had climbed down into it, ice axe in hand, to check out the stability. I followed, knowing that this would release some of the jitters I had, and it did. It was steep, and narrow, but the snow was soft, so a fall would - hopefully - just result in a plop. I took out my shovel and began to dig a pit. By this time, we had begun to hear voices. People coming up? Could it be? I tried to be careful where I was putting the snow I was removing - didn't want to ruin our "fresh tracks", and didn't want to scare the people below with snow balls coming down. The pit revealed a relatively stable snowpack, with no layers that could be felt - a shovel test resulted in an uneven shear about two and a half feet down. Nothing too scary. The snow depth was only around 4 feet here. I went back up to prepare my gear, and we waited for the climbers to arrive.

Soon, the climbers appeared around the dog leg. We became nervous as they approached - what answers would they have to our questions. Someone, I think it was Matt, posed the all-important question:

"What's the snow like?"

The answer, to the effect of "great for skiing", brought us great relief. We then subjected our climbing compatriots to a mini-barrage of subquestions about the snowpack, the ice step, etc... They told us exactly what we wanted to hear!

Matt leaves the summit area, as we descend to the gully entrace.

I was very curious who these climbers were. For some reason, I suspected it was going to be one of the "cascade climbers" regulars, or someone who had seen my original Enigma gully trip reports - I didn't think many people knew about this climb, as it is just mentioned in passing in the Beckey guide. As the climbers topped out, one of them asked me if I was with Phil. I replied that I was actually Phil. "I am Phil", I said. It was none other than John Sharp, aka MrGoodTime on cascadeclimbers.com.

At some point, he asked me a question which I suspect was burning in his mind - was this really called Enigma Gully - or was that just a moniker among friends? I explained that Greg and I had come up with it on our first journey to check it out, and sheepishly admitted it wasn't really called that. However, it's a much better name than "the couloir on the NW face of Snoqualmie Mtn" - and this couloir definitely deserves a name. I asked him to spread the word. It may just be a moderate snow climb, but the aesthetics and mystery give it, in my opinion, a very noteworthy status. It is fairly remarkable that it is so completely hidden from the Snoqualmie Pass masses, and yet so accessible. Mike A recently informed me that the Martin Volken "ski crowd" refer to it as the "slot couloir". That it is.

Adding to our jitters, was the realization that we'd have an audience of four for our initial turns into the couloir (100ft lower, we would round a rock buttress and disappear from view). Greg and I gave up the honours, and Matt would go first. Whew!

Matt makes the first turns down the couloir, and Greg captures on film.

Cameras-a-ready, Matt got into starting position, a little stamped out platform below the top, and made made the first of the tentative turns down the narrow upper section. This landed him in the snow pit I had dug. Some more turns led him around the buttress, out of view (these were "figurative" turns - not really turns in the normal way you'd think of them - this is no dis to Matt or anything - we all skied the top section in the same manner). A shout signaled it was ok for Greg to follow. Once he was off, I climbed down into position and put my skis on. I said fairwell to John and co., and started turning/jumping/falling until I rounded a corner. Matt and Greg were perched on the upper edges of the "dogleg", where the couloir veers sharply left to follow the fall-line of the face more directly. It was very sweet.

Matt and Greg "perched" on the edge of the couloir at the dogleg. Yup, looks like 45 degrees to me!

Greg would get first tracks on this next "pitch", and would look for a safe nook to hide out in before Matt and I followed. His first few turns were tentative, and he mentioned something about slabiness. He continued on his way, slowly making turns down the technical (for skiing) terrain. He later mentioned how exhilerating it was going first, into the unknown. There was always the nagging question in the back of your mind - would the snow slide? Will I slip, lose control? What suprises lurk in the shadows?

Greg descends "into the void" from the dogleg

Greg disappeared from my vantage, but Matt could still see him. Greg found a protected nook in the side of the gully, and shouted up for the next person to follow. I began descending, more relaxed now, and more able to get into a rhythm, although it was hard to make more than a few turns in a row. The snow was excellent, soft, somewhat heavy powder. I think I even got a face shot. Each turn would cause sheets of soft snow to move past you, through you. Would it turn into a slide? Once, I toppled over after a turn, and it seemed like the slope was moving, but as I righted myself, it stopped. I skied into Greg's nook, got out my camera to take pictures of Matt following.

Matt arrives at the bottom of the "second pitch"

Matt making his way down the middle of the couloir.

All the debris kicked up by our turns funneled into the skiers right of the gully, which at this point was tilted sideways - but this feature left the center of the gully clean and untracked (John and co's tracks were on the left side). It was my turn for freshies. I made by way down by doing parallel jump turns (going right), followed by smooth tele turns (going left). The off-fallline aspect of the gully somehow made this natural. Lower down, the angle eased off just a bit, and now I could really let loose, get into a rhythm, and crank continuous turns! I plowed through a pile of debris that had accumulated from our skiing above - it was powder soft.

Lower down, Greg prepares to emerge from the dark depths of Enigma Gully

Matt started a sizeable loose snow slide on his way down - it slid about 200ft, past me, about 10 yards away. A little scary.

Yes Virginia, there are steep couloirs in the Cascades with stable dry powder.

Me, two thirds of the way towards getting a face shot in the sunny powdery avalanche fan below the couloir. photo by Greg Mueller

We continued down, all smiles - the gully opened up into the sunny avalanche fan. The snow here was very smooth - a few inches of powder on a firm crust. Quick, wide open cruising. We skied down to around 4500ft, completing the very exhilerating run of 1700 vertical feet. I think I'll just stop the story here. Oh, but I'll add: Kudos to Matt for skiing the couloir with single leather lace-up boots, on 215s with cross-country camber with no side cut. Well, ok, his equipment wasn't that bad, but compared to me and Greg's phat boy setups... And kudos to Greg for skiing it while completely exhausted from ice climbing the day before.

Too bad I overexposed this shot. Nice view of the north side of Snoqualmie - a castle with turrets. The summit is 1800ft above us. Greg is over on the left, finishing off his run. Enigma Gully is, of course, hidden, but emerges at the top of the triangle of trees. From this vantage, it appeared that the whole right side of the main part of the face (topped by pointy thing) is overhanging.