Hard to believe it has been ten years since my last time skiing Hillman’s.

I haven’t skied half of Tuckerman Ravine’s routes, but I’ve skied enough to know that I enjoy skiing and climbing Hillman’s the most. Hillman’s is far from the ravine circus and offers drama free climbing. There is a chill vibe. The gully has the easiest pitch in the ravine area, but also the longest run. And there is no need to down hike if the Little Headwall isn’t in, either.

With 80 degree temperatures forecasted Friday and Saturday, I rearranged my work schedule to get to Mount Washington on Thursday. The Tuckerman Ravine Trail was skinable bottom to top, and the Sherburne ski trail was skiable top to bottom. Neither of those conditions would be present by the weekend, with as much as one-third of the Sherburne trail closed after the big melt down.

I had a “summit to car” adventure in mind. The better climbing route would have been Right Gully to the East Snowfields. But with the Little Headwall out, Hillman’s would be the only summit to car option from Pinkham. That assumed there was a skiable connection from the bottom of the summit cone to Hillman’s, via the lawn above the ravine’s lip. I suspected such a connection may not exist, so I opted to ascend the better ski route rather the better summit route.

Which was ultimately the best decision. After climbing out of the gully, I started skinning up to the Davis Path looking for a connection to the summit cone. But despite Hillman’s being quite full, the plateau around the summit was quite melted already despite the early time of the season. I wasn’t going to hike in ski boots across the rocky summit trails, so I turned around and headed back to Hillman’s.

It is just as well that I bailed on the summit option as Hillman’s was already quite cooked by the time I started descending. It would only get softer and mushier as the afternoon progressed. Turns were quite nice but a major workout given the soft snow.

By the time I reached the Sherburne, the snow was extremely wet and sticky. I pointed my skis straight down the Sherburne and often needed to poll to keep momentum. The final few turns were quite barren, but still retained enough snow that I did not need to down hike or side slip.

“This is going to hurt.”

Foreboding feelings of pain were strong going into this weekend. I am in the worst shape of my life. An honest self assessment suggested I could get the job done but only at the cost of several days of pain. But even in the worst shape of my life, I’m still more capable than I give myself credit for and I’ll need to remember that as I start rebuilding my body and, perhaps more importantly, the rest of my life.

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Driving through Jefferson on Route 2 passing by people ascending the stairs to their houses of worship, I spotted the white caked peaks of the Northern Presidentials dead ahead. While the faithful of small town northern New England filled into their neighborhood churches, the skiing faithful of New England descended upon the Mecca of backcountry in New Hampshire.

My church is the snow covered mountains and the stairs leading up to the church are skin tracks. I worship the snow and get down on my hands and knees to pray when I am ascending the steep boot ladders. My deity of choice is the Earth which brought me here and can take me out when ever it deems I have had my time to enjoy life. At which point I will rejoin the Earth and have my ashes dumped out across the mountains I worship. Today would not be that day though.

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