I met Hatchett and Shane at oh-freezing-darkness at the top of a neighborhood in Incline yesterday. They saw -13F driving through the flat from Truckee, but the sun was due to appear and provide some solar respite from the clutches of Thermopolis Brutalis.
Underway swiftly, we were greeted with the pure clean pink of alpenglow on the peak high above, followed shortly by a warm yellow glow enveloping our spot in the trees.
Sir Hatchett, His Squintiness
Low cloud over Tahoe
Ascending into the abyss
The views were nothing short of ridiculous, the rich winter landscape brimming with texture and presenting a simple yet vibrant color palette as we climbed high above Tahoe.
Rime detail with oh-so-black sky
Choosing to drop in a little below the summit of Rose Knob, we switched our splitboards over from Suffer to Slay and leapfrogged each other down the mountain, gleefully drowning in deep snow with every turn.
Hatchett says, "Put me in, coach!"
Hatchett, toeside, on a slope of rippled powdered sugar
Back at the car by a little after 10, I loaded up and headed back down the hill into the realm of Reality, which included traffic backed up over a mile on the highway waiting to turn into the lot at Mt. Rose. Suckers :)
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