It’s Earth Day 2024 and the past week has provided ecstatic conditions for celebrating some of this planet’s finest natural wonders: the Chugach Mountains and their deep, stable snowpack.

I’ve been binging since last Saturday: Snow Dome‘s north face, the Maraschino Couloir on Python, the NE face-chutes of Ptarmigan (Point 5815), Crudbusters chutes, Tiekel’s north face, and the grand finale: the STEEP, exposed north face of Mister Fister (Peak 6110) in the Tiekel Valley.

Peak 6110 and its striking north face is prominently displayed in the left side windshields of drivers on the Richardson Highway headed through the Tiekel Valley toward Valdez. Its striking west face then becomes visible through the driver’s side window when passing the peak. Entering the Tiekel Valley, headed from Valdez toward Glennallen, the SW face of the false summit of Peak 6110 is plainly visible through drivers’ windshields. All three of these aspects of Peak 6110 offer amazing ski lines.

Climbing the north ridge of Mt. Tiekel and skiing its north face on 4/20, I was struck by the beauty of the north face of 6110 and carefully examined a route to access it (as well as a ski descent line through its maze of cliffs). With an above average snowpack in the Tiekel Valley it seemed an opportune season to get it done.

This was adventure skiing at its finest. Very little terrain in the Tiekel Valley is visited by humans, especially on skis, so no beta is available.

My approach from the highway through the forest into the alpine went cleaner than I had hoped, and soon I was staring up at 6110’s impressive north face. About as soon as I started examining the north face head on, I started to rule out a descent. While it had looked steep and exposed from Mt. Tiekel and my glassing from the highway, it didn’t look nearly as intimidating as it did now that I was viewing it head on: so much exposure, so steep, and such a maze of cliffs.

I took photos on my ascent from the north cirque to the north ridge, carefully making note of landmarks to help with the descent through the maze of cliffs.

Climbing the north ridge continued to reinforce my decision in favor of not skiing the north face as I began getting other perspectives of it: it’s so damn steep and exposed.

As I knew the massive cornice overhanging much of the north ridge petered out near the summit, I carefully tip-toed up to the tip-top to have a look down the north face. “Holy shit that’s a steep and exposed line,” I thought. No way.

I took my time and spent awhile on the summit taking in the views, marveling at the vast sea of mountains and endless wilderness, having a snack, and considering other options for a descent. I checked out the somewhat less steep and exposed west face carefully, referencing photos of it from the day prior on Mt. Tiekel. While its chutes aren’t as exposed or steep, its westerly orientation was a mixed bag of snow conditions due to solar exposure.

I tip-toed back over to look down the north face. After some time on the summit I’d relaxed a bit. I could at least look down it now, without my stomach turning. I spent a lot of time looking at my reference photos and taking stock of landmarks on the face.

Damn, it was committing. If I dropped in I’d be in the middle of a huge, steep face with exposure above (a massive cornice) and below (myriad cliffs). But the snow looked great, at least where it mattered on the face and through the cliffs, and my stability assessment was that this was about as good as it could get.

This was what I came for. This could be the culmination of my 2023-24 season. I’d skied many big, steep, extreme lines this season…but not in the interior snow climate and without climbing the line first.

Transitioning for the descent and clicking into my skis, I’d become entranced by the north face. There I was, ready to descend, staring down it. I slipped in. While it was an incredible position to be in, on that huge and steep face above exposure with high quality recycled pow (that, thankfully, wasn’t sluffing nearly as hard and fast as the day prior on Mt. Tiekel), it wasn’t something that could be savored. I needed to get down it.

Haven’t recently watched John Singleton‘s excellent “Snowfall” series on Hulu (about America’s crack cocaine epidemic and the CIA’s role in it), and considering my likening of outdoor adventure experiences to different highs, descents like the north face of 6110 are a high like no other. Many who try crack cocaine know how dangerous of a drug it is, but they try it anyway. Many lose themselves in such a drug. Some manage to walk away from the experience un-addicted, but they’ll never forget that taste.That’s a comparison for skiing a line like the north face of 6110.

I’d never try crack cocaine, but I have tried skiing lines like the north face of 6110. And, I’m hooked.

In an Alaska Public Media radio interview on Western Chugach steep skiing I did years ago with my Anchorage-based extreme skiing partner “Randoman” Brian Harder, Brian talked about how some of us are just wired this way: to expose ourselves to danger. He’s probably right. For some of us, it’s in our DNA. We’re still in touch with the vast majority of our human heritage as hunters and warriors. But for those of us, like Brian and I, that have gotten in touch with this more primal aspect of our genetic makeup: what woke us up to it? More importantly, how do we manage it and keep it under control?

For those of us prone to this sort of development, perhaps it’s just the natural progression. Like developing tolerance for a drug, our skiing and climbing must continue to evolve in difficultly and intensity in order to deliver a comparable thrill (or high) as our skills, knowledge, and experience increase.

So, how do we manage it? I’d say there was a time, several years even, during which my consumption of extreme skiing (and seeking that high) put me at risk of getting lost in it (i.e. dying from it). In more recent years, I’ve become increasingly conscious of the need to cut down on it for longevity’s sake. That said, I’m still consuming it. Although, with more discretion I hope.

Will people like Brian and I ever escape the grasp of such highs? I doubt it, at least while we’re still physically capable. Hopefully increasing wisdom and intuition mitigate our continued consumption of such adventure. Brian is going on 62 years young, and just skied the Black Lake Chute on O’Malley in the Western Chugach earlier this week (pictured)…