When spring starts to stretch its arms and the snowpack begins to wane, there’s always that one last mission calling your name. For me, it came in the form of a final send deep in the Mt. Rose Wilderness—my ceremonial closure to a season well-skied.
This wasn’t just a casual lap or two off the side of a resort boundary. This was a full-on, type-2 fun kinda day. The kind that starts in the dark. The kind that reminds you why you fell in love with backcountry skiing in the first place.
Headlamps clicked on at o’dark-thirty. There’s something oddly peaceful about skinning through the forest before sunrise—each breath a cloud, each step a quiet crunch. The climb began mellow but quickly reminded us we were earning every turn today. Altitude crept in. The sun finally cracked the ridgeline and lit up the Tahoe basin pinks and purples, throwing long shadows behind us and putting a bit of warmth back in our fingertips.
We’d scouted a line last week—steep, narrow, and flanked by steep rock walls. We topped out somewhere near 10,000 feet with calves screaming and lungs fighting the thin air. A moment of silence up there… or maybe just catching our breath.
The chute skied fast and fun, soft enough to carve but with just enough firmness to demand respect. Every turn echoed between rock walls. One of those descents that’s over too soon, but stays with you for weeks.
From the ridges, the views were massive. You could trace the whole Lake Tahoe rim, pick out Desolation Wilderness to the south, and even catch a glimpse of the Sierra crest way off in the distance. We lingered longer than we should’ve, soaking it in. Sun on our backs, snow-covered peaks all around, and not another soul in sight. These are the moments that burn into your memory like sun on spring snow.
After tagging a few more lines and racking up more vert than originally intended, we finally dropped back toward the trailhead. Legs jelly. Spirits full. A beer from the cooler and a tailgate lounge session capped the day—season’s end, sealed with a smile.
Backcountry skiing has a way of taking everything you’ve got and giving you more in return. This Mt. Rose mission was no exception. It was raw, remote, and rewarding in all the right ways. A proper sendoff to a winter well-lived.
