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Backcountry Skiing blogs, videos, photos, and a whole lotta stoke.

Corn on the Cobb | Pioneer Mountains, ID United States | 04/29/09, by Steep and Deep

What should have been a quick day trip into the Pioneers turned into an overnight adventure with an unpleasant surprise at the finish.� On May 4, 2008 a spring decision was made to ski some late season "Corn on the Cobb."� Cobb, one of the gems of the pioneer mountains right outside of Ketchum, Idaho was an ideal target for this endeavor.�

My friend Ian Havlick and I both have similar attitudes in that we are extremely industrious, especially in outdoor endeavors.� No matter what the idea, as long as it has to do with the outdoors, we will do whatever we can to make it.� While hiking during the previous summer, I had scoped a couloir that looked like one of those lines you see filmed from a helicopter in the best ski movies; I needed to conquer it.


Instead of leaving the house at the "crack o' dawn" as planned, our trip began with a more casual start and we made our way out around the "crack o' noon".� Deciding it would need to be an overnighter we threw in Ian's Bibler Tempest tent, warm clothes, sleeping gear, some oatmeal, and whatever leftovers we could find in the fridge.� We arrived at the trailhead and were stoked to find most of the road had melted, allowing us to take about 3 miles off of our approach.


A nice hike up to 10,200ft led us to our temporary home.� Snow camping is always awesome because renovation is so easy (and cheap).� We were quick to make a couple of seats, an area to cook, and start the drying of our wet gear.� In no time we were relaxing, eating well, and waiting for the sun to set over the Pioneer Mountains. �


Figuring that the corn would be forming around 11:00, we slept in and started our ascent at 9:30 the next morning.� In sunglasses and t-shirts, we skinned up a ridge and through a meadow until the couloir was finally in sight.� Plenty of coverage meant that the couloir was a go; I could already imagine the pure fun that was in store.� So we checked our beacons, put on our crampons and made the push to the summit.�


Apparently though, we should have slept in a little longer and enjoyed a prolonged breakfast... The snow still had a solid crust layer from a freeze the night before.� Although these conditions made kick stepping a breeze, corn o'clock was nowhere in sight.�



The crust just wouldn't melt!� We sat on the summit for a good 30 minutes, 45 minutes, 1 hour- enjoying the view and waiting for our corn to cook.� Although the summit remained rock hard, we were concerned that lower elevations would warm up quickly and finally decided to downclimb the rocky top section to begin the descent of our beautiful couloir. ��


The steep, bombproof crust was a test of our skiing technique.� Not exactly the sweet swishing sound that I was hoping for.� Not exactly the pure delight that I had imagined the couloir would present.� Instead of linking turns through corn snow we were jump turning and praying that our edges would bite so we would not slide all the way down to the rocks below.� But with a little luck and a lot of grunting, we both cleared the couloir and just as we expected, the snow conditions improved dramatically.


Skiing on corn is an amazing feeling that I crave in the Spring like a pregnant woman who wants ice cream.� It was delicious all the way to camp and as we descended to the car the snow kept getting better and better.� Linking amazing turns all the way to the bottom, I felt free as a bird.� Sometimes the objective is overshadowed by the journey.� At least it was on this day. �


But this journey wasn't finished yet.� Back to the car at 12:30, we had the unwelcome surprise of a dead battery.� With no luck we made several attempts to start the car and find cell service.� After a technical descent of an enormous mountain our biggest problem was the fact that one of us accidentally hit a dome light with our ski pole!� One can only laugh in such a situation.

Feeling it was my car and responsibility I grabbed both of our cell phones and my running shoes and started the five-mile run to the town of Triumph (believe it or not this town of 75 was the birthplace of Olympian Picabo Street).� Hoping I would get service before I arrived in town I constantly checked the phones.� The more I checked, the more disappointed I became, but then after what seemed like hours I made it into town.� I found a phone and made a couple of calls and was finally able to get a hold of a friend who was willing to bail us out.�

After creative maneuvering on the one lane road we were able to make the jumper cables reach and get my car started.� Hungry, thirsty, and tired we made it back to the Wood River Valley's best burger joint "Lefty's Bar and Grill" and reminisced on our conquering of The Cobb.