On April 14th I did an unexpected link-up, including a rare summit ski descent of Fairshare Tower’s Northeast Ridge, and the Sentinel (not Red Sentinel) and Tallboy Couloirs, some 7000 feet of excellent spring skiing.
While skiing on Teewinot Mountain with Mike Parri three days earlier, I noticed the striking Northeast Ridge of Fairshare Tower, the most prominent of the spires between Disappointment Peak and the Grand Teton, looked skiable – and not only skiable, but skiable without ropes. I’d never looked at, or heard of, Fairshare as ski objective before, but as I continue to mature as a Teton ski mountaineer my eyes are becoming increasingly drawn to the lines between the lines – the stuff few others notice. Viewed from Garnet Canyon, one of the most popular destinations for backcountry skiing in the Teton Range, 11,562 foot Fairshare Tower appears snowless, offers no viable ski lines and blends seamlessly into the melting pot of spires spanning the gap between Disappointment and the Grand. From Glacial Gulch the peak expresses slightly more ski potential, with a 950 foot sloping east face that hangs tantalizingly above the ever popular Red Sentinel Couloir, yet rarely does it harbor enough snow to even inspire. I’ve been skiing in Glacial Gulch for nearly a decade, and only on April 11th, 2024 did my longing eyes detect this gem. The ridge was seductive, a narrow ribbon of snow suspended above terminal cliffs on either side, at times pinching down to no more than ten feet wide, with a few small bands of exposed rock. I took some high quality photographs, returned home and blew them up – digital recon – and alas a viable ski line was revealed. Internet research unearthed a TetonAT.com article that hinted the late Steve Romeo may have been seeking this line, yet ultimately never accomplished a descent. I was possessed, and arrived in the Bradley-Taggart lot alone, less than 72 hours later, to take my shot.
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I left the car shortly after 5:00 AM and made determined work entirely on snow to the Meadows, forking right and heading up the approach couloir for the standard Red Sentinel Couloir ski descent, reaching the 11,100 foot col at approximately 8:30. The alpine barely froze the night before and strong, unfiltered, April sun was already having its way with solar snow surfaces. I changed to crampons quickly and began up the short 450 foot east face directly above the col, encountering a surprise blue ice runnel passing the first cliff and severely rotten snow for the remainder of the climb. Punching a trail through 45 degree knee deep mush above terminal cliffs isn’t the preferred way to begin a technical ski descent, and without a rope I was placing all my chips on the ridge being more supportable given its slight northerly tilt – otherwise… well… who knows.
I reached the summit following a brief fourth class rock scramble just after 9:00AM, clicking into my skis with little pause, let alone a snack or drink. In classic Teton spring fashion I was in a manic race against the heat – there was no time to lose. Given the extremely exposed, narrow and route-finding intensive nature of my intended descent, and no guarantee of continuous snow, I was grateful for a slightly lesser slope angle than expected, with the bulk of the work hovering between 40 and 45 degrees. Two distinct cruxes involved a body length straight line through an anemic ice vein to pass the obvious first large cliff encountered, and a small edge-to-edge jump over an exposed rock step lower on the crest. The snow was perfect sticky corn from the ski mountaineering gods, laced with the occasional, yet predictable, isothermal punch near the rocks. A death drop to skier’s left, and a wicked rag-doll over terraced cliffs into the Red Sentinel on the right, provided an incredible elevated feeling to the magical tightrope that is the Northeast Ridge of Fairshare Tower, and I relished every last bit of the descent, milking turns every inch my skis would allow. The best corn was found as the snowpack deepened lower on the ridge, before I was forced to drop into the goopy couloir 1000 feet below, yet by then I was fully sated and content to battle any and all conditions between me and the car.
Because Fairshare was the unique and main attraction, and time to write these articles is a precious commodity, I don’t want to belabor this article with the rest of this day. The bullet points are that as I traversed off Fairshare and dipped into the shade behind Disappointment Peak to admire my tracks, the snow instantly flipped from solar mush to dry powder. I was stunned, and just so happened to be standing in the fall line of the Sentinel Couloir – the attractive, far steeper and often not filled in cousin to the classic Red Sentinel. Impulsively I clicked off my skis and booted to the top of the line, enjoying a mid-winter-esque cold powder lap of epic proportions. The line was more exposed and legitimate than I ever imagined, and the two feet of supportable powder allowed me to push the limit of my new Black Crows Camox Freebird skis with confidence. I took the line to Teton Glacier before pulling out my phone and realizing it was only 10:15 AM, why not keep skiing? Powder fever led me across the lateral moraine of the glacier, where I climbed the south face of Peak 11,751 while it was still shaded by the eastern wall of Peak 11,840, and skied the classic Tallboy Couloir into Cascade Canyon in untracked powder via a slight starting variation from a notch further and higher to the east. The slog back to the car, my second time in four days returning from Cascade without a bicycle, was soul crushing to say the least, but 7000 feet of four-star skiing on a variety of snow surfaces was enough to keep my complaining to a minimum.
All in all this day can be summed up by inspiration and impulsivity. So often ski mountaineering lines are either dead obvious, first discovered in some kind of documented resource or stumbled upon by accident, but Fairshare was the exception. Perhaps it represents a new phase in my Teton skiing, as if I had to accumulate a half decade of steadily knocking off classics before my eyes could deviate from the mesmerizing pull of the obvious plums. On Farishare I found a unique ephemeral adventure not dissimilar to a rare ice line like Styrofoam Boots. Scrolling back through my years of pictures in Glacial Gulch I’ve never seen this line in skiable shape, and in the days proceeding my descent the hot spring sun melted out the many fickle notches and narrow slips integral to threading the needle. If I had to guess I’d say this line is skiable for only a few weeks on the right year, and many years not at all. As for the Sentinel and Tallboy, I’m just grateful my human body can power me through a spontaneous 7000 foot day of skiing three Teton descents. A few years ago the prospect of linking three lines together above 10,000 feet would have handicapped me, and nowadays it feels fairly casual, so much so that it’s almost feeling obligatory to tack a second or third descent onto any park outing with stable weather and good snow. In the words of famous rock free-soloist Peter Croft, substituting climbing for skiing – “If skiing is fun, then more skiing is better”.
Notes:
- Weather was 30 degrees and fully clear with no wind at 11,000 feet the night before. The alpine all the way to the car received a soft freeze on exposed surfaces, but remained isothermal near the rocks.
- It seems to take about one hour less than 1,000 feet per hour to reach the summit of Garnet Canyon peaks.
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DISCLAIMER
Ski mountaineering, rock climbing, ice climbing and all other forms of mountain recreation are inherently dangerous. Should you decide to attempt anything you read about in this article, you are doing so at your own risk! This article is written to the best possible level of accuracy and detail, but I am only human – information could be presented wrong. Furthermore, conditions in the mountains are subject to change at any time. Ten Thousand Too Far and Brandon Wanthal are not liable for any actions or repercussions acted upon or suffered from the result of this article’s reading.
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