LEFT Mali Noyes fording the North Fork of the Buffalo River, just after a grizzly bear encounter. We’d paddle out the same creek a few days later. RIGHT, TOP TO BOTTOM Spencer Harkins finds his alley through an old white bark burn area near Smokehouse Mountain. Spencer Harkins and Griffin Post getting their Strava steps in through snow, sleet, wind and old burns (most of the area is scarred from several large forest fires). THE FADING AFFECT bias is the psychological phe-nomenon in which people tend to forget negative emotions associated with experiences while retaining the positive feel-ings. Researchers have asserted this is an evolutionary benefit for survival, leaving humans programmed to be open to new experiences regardless of what happened last time. I find it to be especially useful in the realm of backcountry skiing. The memories of the storm are still fresh as we hit snow-line. Thirty-six hours of on-again, off-again precipitation had dropped months’ worth of rain and sleet on our cabin camp. We’d woken up in a meadow that had turned into a lake, mov-ing our tents to high ground in the deluge to spare our remain-ing gear. Now, drying my feet on a damp buff after crossing an ice-cold creek and jamming cold toes into ski boots, I wonder what we’re doing. Although my thoughts aren’t spoken aloud, they’re reflected on the crew’s faces and in their body language. Spencer unsuccessfully shields himself from the sleet under a tree, Mali has gone unusually quiet and Fred already has his skis on while trying his best not to look impatient with the rest of us. Yet as our skintrack climbs, so do our spirits. Sleet turns to snow and crust to powder. By treeline, we’re walking on six inches of fresh snow with deeper, wind-loaded pockets. Although it’s closer to summer than winter, one wouldn’t know that. The burnt pines, with their meandering trunks stripped of bark and most of their branches, offer ample ski-ing lanes and a stunning contrast between earth and sky. We transition and make casual, carefree turns down through the forest, leapfrogging each other in spring powder. After transitioning in a narrow creek, we veer toward an east-facing cirque in search of steeper terrain. Snow continues to pile up. Even though temperatures are rising, we still have one or two laps before wet slides become an issue. We make quick work of a couloir that tops out in a narrow notch over-looking the entire Soda Creek drainage. The snow affords just enough give to ski confidently and milk some of our last powder turns of the season. Mali and Spencer embody pure enthusiasm. Despite hav-ing only a handful of years under her belt as a skier, Mali looks as honed as any seasoned veteran. Spencer skis as cavalierly as he looks, and I’m actually half-surprised when he doesn’t strip down naked at the top. Strangely, it will mark the first time we’ve skied together that he hasn’t schussed at least one run in the buff. We link every last patch of snow on the traverse to our makeshift base camp, until spring finally wins out and we reluctantly put our skis on our backs. Our little meadow and cabin come into view, and we happily walk the muddy trail to our adopted stoop. The fading affect is already at work. 066 The Ski Journal
The Ski Journal Volume 15, Issue 1: Page 66
