7/5/25 - Skyscraper Glacier
TAY
Since moving to Colorado, I've become a bit obsessed with the idea of Turns All Year. That is, skiing every month of the year. I think my obsession first started from this YouTube video of Carl Zimmer while I lived in the Northeast and was just a fledgling skier.
At the time, the notion of TAY filled my brain with words like "obsessive", "insane", and "absurd". I can happily report that I now fall into all three categories :)
Since starting summer skiing last year (June '24), I've been absolutely hooked. My favorite adventures are those that are improbable, silly, and shared with similarly-minded friends. Summer skiing is perfect.
July '25
I made plans with Kyla and her friend Rachel to check out Skyscraper Glacier on Rollins Pass. We were delayed by a day due to weather - Kyla and I opted for a trail run to Dorothy Lakes instead (4th of July TH on the 4th!). Luckily everyone was available the next day and with blue skies we quested up the treacherous pass road in my Rav4.Halfway through the drive, my TPMS light came on. I gave the tires a quick visual check and all looked well, so we shrugged it off and kept going. On the last stretch, with the parking lot in sight 1/2 a mile away, the light started flashing. I pulled over and discovered a completely flat front right tire. Dammit. We got out the jack and wrench, except we couldn't find the wrench anywhere in my car. Dammit! Knowing that it was a weekend and this was a relatively popular spot, we posted up waiting for a passerby to lend us a wrench. Shoutout to the Rivian bros for letting us borrow theirs. With that, we were on our way after an hour and change delay.
Not a bad backdrop for a tire change :)
We strapped our skis onto our packs and set off. There were a handful of other summer skiers out with us and we exchanged knowing grins at the parking lot. Those who get it, get it.
Rachel powered up the switchbacks, leaving me sucking air trying to keep up. Rollins Pass sits at 11,660' and the relative flatland of Boulder does not keep one prepared. I adjusted my pack, took a deep breath, and charged on up. It was only about 600' up and 2.5 miles to the top of the glacier, suck it up Huzi. We passed by the snowfield I had accidentally dropped into last year on my solo July day. Up on the ridge, the wildflowers were incredible. Fields of yellow, pink, and purple stretched forward, complimenting the bluebird sky and windless day. It was shaping up to be primo summer ski condies.
Finally we reached the top of the glacier. Man, this thing was STEEP. At first I thought we were accidentally on Challenger Glacier but nope, this was the one. I was the only one foolhardy enough to still be interested in skiing the line. We planned for me to drop in first, then Kyla and Rachel would hike around the steepest bit where they could transition and drop in a bit lower.
After a sip of water and a snack, I bid farewell and made my last rites. Now stuck with just the doubts racing through my head, I approached the glacier. It looked even steeper in person, but there was a faint line where someone had traversed in across the ~50 degree bit before making their turns. I planned to follow suit.
I climbed off the rock onto the snow, about 30 feet skiers left of my planned transition point. The snow was solid, but disconnected from the rock by a few feet. Images of the whole shelf collapsing, taking me with it, ran through my head. Still in my trail runners, I slowly and tediously traversed the skinny snow step. I leaned uphill so that if I were to slip, hopefully I wouldn't be going for a long unintentional glissade.
I rounded a corner and was on top of my line. Rachel and Kyla came into view and I gave them a wave, feigning confidence. Hopefully my harrowing traverse experience wasn't evident from my posture and expression. A bit rusty from several weeks off, I carefully transitioned out of my TRunners and clicked into my skis. Click click. Go time.
The first step was to actually get into the snowfield. I had to traverse from my safe haven shelf across the 50 degree crux. The snow dropped out from below so that I couldn't see where I was in relation to my intended line. I motioned up to Kyla and Rachel to confirm that I was in the right area, then tenuously inched my skis forward. This portion required the most focus - I had to dig my edges hard into the corn snow to prevent slipping down the crux. I felt Kyla and Rachel's eyes watching me, and probably a finger ready over an SOS Button on an Inreach.
After what felt like 10 minutes of inching forward, I was ready for my first turn. The mantra that somehow entered my head was "Confident skiing is good skiing". Despite this run being one of the steepest I've ever skied, I knew that charging the line was my best bet of not letting the line charge me. I arced a turn through perfect corn snow and let out a whoop, which was in turn responded by a whoop of relief from Kyla and Rachel. I continued down until the line met up with theirs, and posted up to wait. The adrenaline coursed through me like a wave and I tried to quell it with some water and goldfish.
Finally we reached the top of the glacier. Man, this thing was STEEP. At first I thought we were accidentally on Challenger Glacier but nope, this was the one. I was the only one foolhardy enough to still be interested in skiing the line. We planned for me to drop in first, then Kyla and Rachel would hike around the steepest bit where they could transition and drop in a bit lower.
After a sip of water and a snack, I bid farewell and made my last rites. Now stuck with just the doubts racing through my head, I approached the glacier. It looked even steeper in person, but there was a faint line where someone had traversed in across the ~50 degree bit before making their turns. I planned to follow suit.
I climbed off the rock onto the snow, about 30 feet skiers left of my planned transition point. The snow was solid, but disconnected from the rock by a few feet. Images of the whole shelf collapsing, taking me with it, ran through my head. Still in my trail runners, I slowly and tediously traversed the skinny snow step. I leaned uphill so that if I were to slip, hopefully I wouldn't be going for a long unintentional glissade.
Not suuuper confidence inspiring...
I rounded a corner and was on top of my line. Rachel and Kyla came into view and I gave them a wave, feigning confidence. Hopefully my harrowing traverse experience wasn't evident from my posture and expression. A bit rusty from several weeks off, I carefully transitioned out of my TRunners and clicked into my skis. Click click. Go time.
The first step was to actually get into the snowfield. I had to traverse from my safe haven shelf across the 50 degree crux. The snow dropped out from below so that I couldn't see where I was in relation to my intended line. I motioned up to Kyla and Rachel to confirm that I was in the right area, then tenuously inched my skis forward. This portion required the most focus - I had to dig my edges hard into the corn snow to prevent slipping down the crux. I felt Kyla and Rachel's eyes watching me, and probably a finger ready over an SOS Button on an Inreach.
After what felt like 10 minutes of inching forward, I was ready for my first turn. The mantra that somehow entered my head was "Confident skiing is good skiing". Despite this run being one of the steepest I've ever skied, I knew that charging the line was my best bet of not letting the line charge me. I arced a turn through perfect corn snow and let out a whoop, which was in turn responded by a whoop of relief from Kyla and Rachel. I continued down until the line met up with theirs, and posted up to wait. The adrenaline coursed through me like a wave and I tried to quell it with some water and goldfish.
 |
| Looking back at the run. Yewww!! |
Rachel and Kyla picked their way down the hill around the glacier, transitioned, and skied down to me where we exchanged high fives. We party skied down to Bob Lake. The sky was radiant blue, the snow a perfect corn consistency, and we were past the crux of the day. Life is good!
We got to the shore of Bob Lake and Rachel was psyched on a cold plunge. We agreed that it was probably the coldest cold plunge any of us had ever done, with chunks of snow still hanging in the lake. But hey, we got to ski and cold plunge on the same day in July, can't complain.
The hike out was about 2.5 more miles, and we made quick work of it before heading back down Rollins/Berthoud to Empire for some chicken sandwiches and onion rings at the Dairy King. Psyched for August!!!
