Skiing 1 O'Clock and Un-stucking Some Trucks

 The Line: 1 O'Clock Face, ~40° max

The Mountain: Broken Top, 9,175', Oregon Cascades

December 20, 2024

Photo: Julian Brastow.

Oregon weather did the Oregon weather thing again: dump feet of snow in a few days and then, just when everyone is gearing up for some bluebird pow days, rain. And rain hard. The COAC report said that the snow line had been somewhere between 7,500-8,000 feet, which ruled out just about everything within 90 minutes of Bend except the Sisters and good ol' Broken Top. For this mission I enlisted the wildland firefighter/Mt. Bachelor lifty dual threat, Julian Barstoolian. What he lacks in experience, he makes up for in fitness and a willingness to go along with whatever I say. 

Headed towards the crater with Julian's lair behind.

The lack of fresh snow made my Moonbike a little hot under the collar on the ride in, but she still dragged Julian up those hills without complaint. We parked along Trail #7 near the Broken Top TH and started skinning. We glided along next to each other, unable to break a trail even if we wanted to.

As you can see, not the best light for photography or for telling where the hell the surface of the snow is. Photo: Julian Brastow.

Once in the crater, we spied a group of three bootpacking up Tower Couloir, a popular line and one that I thought we might ski. Instead of following them directly up Tower, we opted to slide into the Vulva, the gap in the moraine that cuts through the center of the crater. If the name sounds suspect, pick up a copy of Oregon Ski Atlas and decide for yourself what it looks like. We were at 8,000' now, with the rain crust still as crusty as they come and no sign of soft snow. I flipped my ski pole over and punched through the crust, and sure enough, feet of powder underneath. Kill me. 

1 O'Clock is in purple, Tower is in pink. Light blue is our tracklog. Image generated in Caltopo. 

After taking a break on a lovely table-like boulder sticking out of the snow, we decided to head up Tower after all, not knowing what we'd end up skiing. The top of Tower converges with the top of 1 O'Clock at the crater rim. We hooked  a right and ended up on top of the wall of the Vulva, and then found the bootpack from the other group where the moraine ends in the steeper slope. We opted not to put crampons on. I had a feeling I'd end up regretting this, but I didn't let my good judgement or experience triumph.

Julian leading the charge.

Higher and higher we went, but still we encountered the same damn rain crust. Every now and again there would be brief patches where the crust would almost disappear, and then a few steps later it would be back full force. Just as I was really thinking about demanding my membership money back from COAC, we finally hit a long patch of sweet, sweet wind-packed pow just a few hundred feet from the top. However, it wasn't to last, and pretty soon we were tip-toeing on the hard, wind-blown ice that you expect at the top of these volcanos. Remember how I had a feeling I would regret not donning crampons?

Looking back the way we came. I believe the typical Tower Couloir line is the left chute, and the right chute would put you on the far skier's left side of the 1 O'Clock face. I think some folks call that Tower Right, but I may be mistaken. 

We arrived at the top of the two lines feeling a bit frazzled, a feeling which was not at all helped by the winds now trying hard to blow us all the way to Sisters. I gave Julian a few pointers on steep transitions; the only useful one in that moment was to kick out a ski-length platform in the snow to have a stable platform to stand on. 

The Tower standing watch over the crater.

I clicked in and cut across to the windlip that forms behind the Tower itself, an impressive formation of loose, but beautifully colored, rock. Julian soon joined me. Based on the wind direction and a quick visual look-see, we reckoned that the 1 O'Clock face would offer more of the soft stuff than Tower Couloir. Not long after, we were proven right. 

Great while it lasted!

The first few hundred feet held some lovely, soft wind-pack, but soon after that the rain crust said "Miss me yet, bitch?" I pulled over to the side and watched Julian, who was learning that no matter how gripped you are at the transition, you'll feel better once you get your skis on!

Initially we had talked about ticking off several lines, but with how rough the conditions were the steeper stuff was quite daunting and the mellower runs didn't seem all that fun. Deciding that we were satisfied skiing one new line that day, we pointed our tips towards the Vulva once again. 

Photo: Julian Brastow.

Most of my blog posts would end there, but on this day, the most exciting happenings were still to come. Having made it back to the Cascades Lake Highway from Trail #8, I parked the Moonbike to switch to some beefier gloves. After a minute, one of us noticed that there was what appeared to be a car up ahead. For those who don't know, in winter the highway is closed past Mt. Bachelor and becomes a dedicated snowmobile and XC ski trail, which the law as well as common sense dictate that you can't drive a car or truck onto, no matter how badass you think it is. In other words, its covered in feet and feet of snow, requiring dedication just to get onto in a wheeled vehicle, much less make it a few miles down the road. Sure enough, as we rode by there were three pickups piloted by three yahoos, not moving and clearly in a pickle. One guy was stuck, his buddy was trying to pull him out, and they were clearly taking the piss from every passing group of snowmobilers. I was fairly confident the Moonbike lacked the torque to yank an F-150 back to Dutchman Flat, so all I could do was tell them good luck and continue on. 

Well done, gentlemen. 

Almost back to Dutchman Flat, we ran into the next surprise. Their buddy in a Jeep Grand Cherokee had made it almost all the way back to pavement, only to get stuck about 40 feet from salvation. Given that he wasn't going to die out there I might have left this ding dong to his own devices, but I find vehicle recovery to be a lot of fun as long as its not my truck that might be stuck there until April. I grabbed my traction boards and chains and was helping figure things out when one of the original three guys comes bouncing along in his Ford and gets stuck right next to the Jeep. 

These guys said they go to OSU Cascades; clearly they aren't physics majors. 

Making no progress with digging, bouncing, and the traction boards, the guys swallowed the last crumbs of their pride and went to ask another group if they had a chain we could borrow. As Julian and I stood near the stuck trucks, a snowmobiler pulled up and kindly explained to us "THAT'S WHY YOU STAY OFF THE FUCKING TRAIL!", or something to that effect. To which all Julian and I could do was say "You're right! We swear these aren't ours! Just trying to help." Given how much time and money the snowmobile club puts into grooming these trails, I can't blame the guy for being irate. 

Once the guys were back with a chain, we linked it with my tow strap and were able to extend the pull to the edge of the snow.  I hopped in my Colorado, powered by its beefy, burly, badass four cylinder engine with a devastating 200 horsepower and 191 ft/lbs of torque and yanked the Ford right out, followed by the Jeep. The guys we helped were extremely grateful and had clearly learned a lesson they won't soon forget. 

Merry Christmas!