On April 29th, 2025, I skied a rare line on the South Face of the Dike Pinnacle. I’d been dreaming of connecting the dots on this improbable face for many years.
After eight days of no skiing my stoke bubbled over. Despite soft freeze conditions, and afternoon obligations in Teton Valley at 1:00PM, I set my alarm for 2:00AM and headed out for the Dike Pinnacle. After a few days of bizarre pacific weather with moderate southwest winds, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Punchy snow surfaces turned to a firm freeze above the Garnet Canyon meadows. As I made my way into the South Fork I was pleased to find my top-choice line in ski-through shape. Since skiing the South Couloir on the Dike Pinnacle last April, I’ve been eyeing the exposed South Face. While no particular component of the descent is too technically demanding, the exposure is severe and route finding complex. Connecting the hanging couloir to the South Couloir is the crux, requiring thin 50 degree edging over a network of barely covered granite slabs that demand paramount snow stability. While climbing the route I discovered the worst of these traverses was no more than a few inches of snow atop a thin glaze of AI2 melt-freeze ice, clinging to smooth granite. Can anyone say ephemeral?
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My decision to climb the route was made on two points. First, the route finding through the traverse seemed tricky. Second, oscillating dense fog often dropped visibility to near zero. With boot prints to follow, I would have a wider margin for descent. The steepness of the traverse quickly became apparent as I left the tame South Couloir. Several sections contained inclinometer verified 50 degree AI2 ice beneath a thin varnish of fresh snow, perched above massive exposure. I was grateful for my whippet and ice axe combo, which provided an added layer of security. The hanging couloir was refreshingly docile, a consistent slope of 40-45 degrees. A short section of AI2 ice and easy mixed climbing led through the small cliff band barring access to the East Ridge. I reached the summit approximately five hours after leaving the car.
Had I an open schedule I would’ve certainly waited for visibility to improve, however, I had places to be. Skiing the narrow and convex East Ridge in the “ping-pong ball” was disorienting. A brief side-slip through the aforementioned upper cliff band dropped me into the amazing hanging couloir I’d been dreaming about for the past year. The windboarded snow was marginal overall, but plenty good enough for slow and controlled jump turns. Nearing the traverse the snow softened and visibility lifted, allowing for a heroic section of fluent skiing above the omnipresent massive cliff. Having been a little more engaged than expected while climbing the traverse, I was nervous to reverse it on skis. But fortunately, my newly sharpened edges clung well to the sun-softened blue ice beneath, allowing safe passage to the South Couloir without an elevated heart rate. Another pitch of great powder skiing dropped into the couloir, where I skied variable snow while dodging avalanche debris to the canyon bottom.
By some miracle I reached the car by 11:20, and returned home with 20 minutes to spare. I spent the next three hours moving furniture with my girlfriend for a pair of senior co-workers. Waking up at 2:00AM, driving 75 minutes, skiing 6,000 vertical feet on a rare ski mountaineering line from 12,350 feet in Grand Teton National Park solo, driving another 75 minutes home, chugging a protein shake, and moving furniture around for three hours will quickly throw one into delirium. By the time I was eating dinner, the day’s events felt like a lucid dream.
The Direct South Face of the Dike Pinnacle is an excellent line, reminiscent of the Northeast Ridge of Fairshare Tower, that deserves more eyes from ski mountaineers who appreciate the compelling cocktail of exposure, steep skiing, and route finding. I only know one team who descended this route, many years ago. I’m sure there have been others, but certainly not many.
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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.
Ten Thousand Too Far 
Way to go Bro! Exhilarating photos. In my chair at home, I feel I should be putting goggles on!
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Thank you! Yes, this was a fun one. I’d recommend getting out there. The snowpack up high is great right now!
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