Wind howling, I find myself drytooling up a desperate dihedral, doing everything I'm capable of to avoid taking a fall…a 35' runout on nickel and dime-sized edges. I get to a decent rest spot, getting one axe into a thin crack, fumbling with numb hands to pound in a knifeblade below it. Anchor in, I'm screaming for some slack but realize my partner can't hear me over the wind. Unable to pull up the rope to clip in, I give up, settling instead for a rest on my fifi and daisy chain. I lean out from the wall, spindrift blowing down my collar, forearms screaming…we're in over our heads. Trying to pull it together, I stare into the white above.
Suddenly I'm jerked back to reality, thrust into the present moment by an unexpected call.
"Good Morning! Can you take our picture?" a middle aged Korean hiker asks.
"Sure…", catching my breath.
Daydream over, it's just another beautiful "winter" run up Icehouse Canyon below Mt. Baldy.
Screw mountaineering sufferfests.




Microspikes and trailrunners freakin' rock.

Shirtless snow trailrunning! This is what we call "winter" 'round here. Strangely, everyone else was decked out like they were climbing K2.

Baldy from Icehouse Saddle (about 8 miles and +/- 7500 feet from the car).

Completely stoked on the day.
Going back to run Timber Mountain next week, maybe snow camping with my son.
Cheers, it's beautiful out there!

