Uphilling Timberline on the RMU Apostle 98
A few weeks ago I woke up early and drove towards Mt. Hood in the dark. My podcasts played the voice a political journalist who sounded like she wanted to switch professions, and in my mind, I decided to her full show as an act of emotional support. That lasted until she mentioned the date and I realized I was listening to last week’s news. I switched it over to 97.1 FM for the non-stop Christmas tunes just as I turned off of the highway.
I knew the base of snow was thin, but I wasn’t worried. I was going to skin up the cat track on the East side of Timberline and continue up Palmer Glacier until I ran out of mountain. I was also prepared to turn back if it was too cold or if my feet hurt or if I wanted to turn back. Not to say I wasn’t excited about skiing, I just know that I have a habit getting excited about comfort while I’m skiing, and didn’t want to rule anything out.
I was extra stoked to get out today since I’d just picked up new skis. They’re the Apostle 98 from Rock Mountain Underground (RMU), and I was seriously excited to try them out. The Apostle 98 is crazy light, not too stiff, and has a great shape. Their 5-point design means it can perform in a wide variety of conditions, and they’re definitely a big step up from the 8-year-old planks I’d been riding.
I filled my pack with 3 liters of water, an extra layer, a lightweight emergency bivy sack, a ton of snacks, an aluminum ice axe, and my avalanche probe and a shovel. In my pockets were my avi beacon, a compass, more snacks, and my phone (turned off so the battery wouldn’t die in the cold). I always bring avi gear when going out of bounds, even when the risk seems to be low. Today I was probably more likely to die in an avalanche inside my van than on the mountain, but I packed beacon, probe, and shovel anyway and made a note clean out the van.
As I started to ski up the mountain, I noticed the Apostles cut effortlessly through the dense maritime powder we get on Mt. Hood. With tech boots and bindings I was flying up the short, rolling hills at the start of the climb. Past the Silcox Hut, things get a little steeper, and I started to huff and puff like a big bad wolf with a phlegm issue, but that’s not the skis’ fault: I just need to train more.
After an hour and a half, I had reached the top of the resort and passed into the unmanaged snow of the glacier. The snowpack was even denser than I anticipated, but I was also ahead of schedule, and the sun was just starting to shine and would soon be warming the snow from its solid, icy state. I skied a little further, contemplated what it would take to become a more rugged and serious outdoor athlete, then thought better of it. Rocks and ice bands were poking through everywhere, and I really just wanted to ski.
I ripped off my skins without removing skis and started downhill. I was surprised at how terribly the Apostles handled on the hard pack until I realized my ski boots were still set to walk mode. I locked them down and easily picked my way through the obstacle course of ice and rocks. Much better.
When I dropped onto the groomers at the top of the resort the conditions were just warm enough to soften the top centimeters of snow. I opened up the throttle on these new skis and just about lost my mind with joy. They transitioned effortlessly from edge to stable edge, allowing me to make buttery smooth turns on the still hard piste. I linked turn after turn at full speed, picking a line that would have left my quads screaming on my heavy old skis but now felt natural as could be. I passed another skier working their way up and couldn’t bring myself to stop: I just screamed with joy and kept on flying.
I wasn’t counting, but I think I was back in the parking lot in about 12 minutes. I stopped for a quick moment low on the run, where you can cut left and find powder stashes. The lower areas had been protected from the wind and I found a small bank of the good stuff, caught my breath, and dove in. I was barely big enough for a true turn before I leveled out and started pumping through low-angle powder, but I would feel the skis really carry me through. I couldn’t wait to get out on them on a true powder day.