Comstock Couloir
April 7th
Comstock Couloir | Second recorded descent after 14 years of standing deep and dormant in the Selkirk Mountains
24.5 miles | 13,590’ of elevation gain | 14 hours and 15 minutes round trip | Solo
Standing atop The Comstock. A line that hasn’t seen skis for 14 years.
This is my journey (which was a bit of a battle) to climb and ski the Comstock Couloir of Mt. Dawson in a single effort. There are three sections to this piece: first, a history of the line and preface to the action; second, my process for climbing and skiing the Comstock including an account of the experience; third, a brief conclusion on risk and reflection.
A History of the Comstock and Preface to the Action
14 years ago, this line saw its first descent. 14 years have went by with no one successfully recording a re-entrance into the Comstock.
The first descent was done by Greg Hill (a Revelstoke local and the first man to ski 2 million human powered vertical feet in a year) and a 5 person group (Aaron, Mark, Isaac, Connor and Tyler) of crushers from the two British Columbia towns that sit directly to the east and west (Golden and Revelstoke) of the access point to Mount Dawson which is Rogers Pass.
I opted to do this route solo and pure. What that means for me is scouting yourself, collecting your own data via mapping analysis and formulating your plan independently. Besides, there isn’t much (or really any beta) for this route – aside from the fun video Hill made back in 2008. The only way to get a more intimate view into the nuances of the route would have been to connect with one of the individuals that skied it 14 years prior. Nonetheless, I chose not to.
I wanted to utilize my skill for mapping an unknown area via combining multiple software’s, utilizing satellite imagery, and implementing the variety of tools and layovers that contemporary backcountry mapping services. This allowed me to organize key checkpoints throughout the route where I would be safe from avalanche terrain and to also know where I would be exposed to hazard to ensure I moved as quickly as possible at these sections. From here, I developed my comprehensive list of risks: which included but was not limited to being attuned to warming which would cause drastic wet-loose avalanches later in the day, prospective ice fall from the hanging glacier on Dawson, and prospective cornice failure in the Comstock Couloir itself.
The Comstock is technical and complicated because of the mere distance you have to travel in big terrain of the Selkirk mountains. Furthermore, the aforementioned terrain features surrounding the line necessitate careful route finding to minimize exposure for ice or snow tumbling on top of you. The cornice was undoubtedly the biggest concern in the line itself. It could break at any moment and wipe the line. However, there is a way directly up the Comstock Couloir itself that follows a precise route to completely protect oneself from cornice failures and an avalanche down the couloir. I opted for that route: precise and particularly exhilarating.
My Process for Climbing and Skiing the Comstock including and the Experience itself
The Mount Dawson Massif Standing in the distance from Asulkan Pass. This line is far out there.
Now for my experience itself:
As a summation:
Follow a precisely calculated line up the Comstock that had an imminent edge throughout the entire 2500’ ascent.
Balance efficiency and speed with patience and slowness later in the day to steer clear of large wet-loose avalanches.
The trip summary:
Solo travel through deep snow: 24.45 miles, 13,566’ of elevation gain, over 14 hours and 15 minutes.
I began the day at a luxurious 4:39 am start en route to Asulkan pass. Made it to Asulkan Hut in 2:15 where some lovely folks filled up my bottles for me, then to Asulkan Pass in 3:06. From here, a horrible descent on breakable crust in the sunrise light down to the Incomappleux valley. 4,500’ elevation gain in. Now, 6,200’ of elevation gain until I would reach the top of the Comstock. This section was beautiful and breathtaking, taking just under 6 hours. Then the return back to Rogers Pass. About 45 minutes to ski the 6,200’ back to the Incomappleux. A mere 15 minutes of waiting for the sun to go behind the ridge. Then 3500’ back up and over Asulkan Pass.
The nitty gritty:
I wanted to do this line in a single effort for the endurance challenge. Also, to take on the challenge of navigating through a sustained distance in the large and complex Selkirk Mountains.
The day started at 4:40am with a 4,000’ warmup past the Asulkan hut, onto the glacier and to the Asulkan Pass. From here, I descended the 3,500’ on a tremendously horrible breakable crust to the Incomappleux Valley. The face I descended was south facing, which doesn’t pose risks at 8am. However, later in this warm day I knew that wet slides would be a critical issue and that this very face (my last ascent on the return home) could rip out entirely if the solar index was high enough and the temperatures were high. I would most likely need to wait in safety for a refreeze to enter back onto this south face and make my way back over Asulkan Pass.
I’d worry about that later as I sat at an elevation of 4,465’ and needed to ascend to 10,700’ to reach the top of the Comstock.
One foot in front of the other–about 30,000 times.
I made my way up the valley staying off the glacier beneath the Dawson Massif since I was solo–even though the touring on the glacier looked mellower than sidehilling 4,000 vertical feet on the variable westish facing powdery and crusty snow.
About 7 hours in, I made it to my critical decision point of the day beneath Twisted Rock: to go around up onto the Selwyn glacier to the summit of Dawson (Hasler) or directly up the Comstock? I opted for the direct route because I wanted to minimize my exposure to crevasses as a soloist on the hanging glacier of Dawson. Furthermore, I calculated that the risk of the cornice breaking at the top of the Comstock could be mitigated by staying precisely to a line that follows climber’s right of the couloir and stays protected by small yet sufficient rock outcroppings. This route necessitated a bit of straightforward mixed climbing (M2/M3) at the top as I was not willing to put myself directly under the cornice for easy snow climbing over the final 300’.
Thus, it began: a short crossing of the glacier beneath Mt. Dawson and a quick navigation over the bergschrund, I began the ascent of the 2500’ of sustained 55º terrain to the top of the Comstock.
I made my way up the leftward side of the apron as this is protected from slide activity coming from the Comstock. After I ascended the 1000’ apron, I needed to cross the base of the Comstock–Cruxy. Sluff was coming out in relatively large loads but also predictable intervals. After watching a few cycles come through, my time came and I bolted across to the rock on the right of the couloir.
From here, it was time to ascend – FAST AND PRECISELY. The climbing was difficult (not in grade just in powder level), the snow was deep, but my mind forced my body into 1 hour and 40 minutes of pretty damn near red-lining in a full effort to reach the top. I felt like I was running up a wall of deep snow. Although, I was more so wallowing up a wall of snow.
I was moving quickly because I was on the edge of the line of fire. The slough was intermittently firing down the left while I was ascending the right. Logically, I knew any large cornice breaks would also follow this path because of the couloir’s camber.
Then a big sluff came that enveloped the couloir in a cloud of snow. I watched the snow rip past me about 10 feet to my left. When you’re that close to danger in this kind of scenario, you have two options: first, turn around; second, move fast, meticulously and trust that your assessment of a nuanced route choice will lead you to the top in safety. I chose the second.
The snow sluffed one more time on my way up–not big but still exhilarating. My precise line, however, had me protected.
Reaching the top came to fruition. I stayed true to my fine line and not until the final 300 vertical feet was I truly exposed to the cornice. At this point, I opted for that low-grade mixed climbing up a small rocky spine that split the main Comstock (left) with a small couloir (right) instead of trudging through the deep snow with the end of the bullet lodged in the gun barrel right in my face (that bullet being the cornice). There was no cornice above my chosen rocky spine so if anything moved it would move to the right or left of me and I would be perched–time for a nice breath, a gel and to take in the views.
Reaching the top of the couloir was a relief to say the least. At the same time, there was a sense of urgency to get out of there. I was rather deep in the Selkirks, and solo, so continuity of movement stays at the heart. Things were cold which was good, but gusts of wind were still coming in with strength. I used a bit of p-cord to cut some of the cornice and clear the top of the couloir.
Now, 2,500’ of sustained 50-55º skiing down to the glacier. The Comstock Couloir is a classic for a reason. The perfect continuity of the slope is amazing and properly steep. I experienced it in rather good conditions: powder at the top, then some grabby wind buff towards the second half which was still dandy. I was on Kastle TX 93’s and boy did I wish I had my TX 103’s but I suppose the weight saving was more of a priority for the day.
The line truly does hang off the Northwest flank of Hasler – or ‘float’ as Greg Hill so appropriately puts it. It stands above the Dawson Glacier, as a daunting feature that begs the question of ski-ability because of pepper scattered throughout. As you ski it though, the beauty of the line comes into your mind and belly. You too feel like you’re floating aside the flank of Hasler – well I suppose you are in a way. For this line has quite a bit of air under it.
The top section is a bit of a belly or catchers mitt at the lowest angle which is still around 50º. Then it rolls over into the heart of it and sustains a 55º+ pitch throughout the first choke and on to the second. The apron, by no means is that of a typical apron that decreases in gradient. The pitch sustains for the final sections all the way down to the glacier. And boy is it magical to feel yourself pulled by gravity so strongly throughout such a sustained line like this.
The Comstock skied great I must say and I had a blast, but after being quite focused on the climb and ski I was relieved and utterly joyous to make continuous powdery turns down the entire 4,000’ low angle basin down to my safe spot in the trees just above the Incomappleux river.
This valley is surrounding by large snow faces shooting up three to five thousand feet on each side. Meaning that later in this warm day it was a prime terrain trap for large wet slides. It is south facing, however, so with the sun heavily in the west and partially covered by clouds, I knew I was mostly in the clear. I kicked back, made a little platform to relax on and ate my sandwich and closed my eyes for 10-15 minutes listening to wet slides booming around in the valley. Things were cooling down, the valley quieted, and the sun moved behind a ridge. Thus, I began my ascent back up Asulkan Pass on my way home.
Cautious that a wet slide could still occur, I picked a very careful line up a sparsely tree covered ridge that split two of the drainages coming down from Asulkan Pass. This resulted in most likely one hundred switch backs to stay away from overhead hazard. Approximately 1000’ into the ascent back home, the snow changed drastically and was clearly cool and stable enough where wet slides were no longer a concern. Nonetheless, I remained cautious and stayed true to the ridge.
Finally, to the top of Asulkan Pass around 6 pm. Now the 5-mile ski out down the Asulkan Glacier and onward to Rogers Pass.
The Comstock Standing in the distance. Intimidating. I think I bowed right around here.
A Brief Conclusion on Risk and Reflection
I made it. The joy didn’t really hit me when I got back as I was really thirsty. I immediately downed a recovery shake, a liter of coconut water, and then savored a hazy IPA with some leftover rigatoni with vegan Bolognese. Yum, called my girlfriend who thought it was “cool” in a monotone voice. And off to bed for a nice 12 hour snooze.
The joy has now sunk in a bit upon writing this report. Reflection is an extremely important part of ski mountaineering. In the case of my Comstock Couloir effort, reflecting has allowed me to realize two things: First, that I was able to be safe because I stuck precisely to the plan that I strategically outlined to avoid the dangers posed by the climb and ski. Second, that I was right at the edge throughout the exposed parts of this endeavor. I knew this and have been able to reflect that this edge is not to be frequented often–but it has to be visited to do things that not many do.
So, I conclude by saying that I am elated to have climbed and skied the Comstock Couloir after it had stood dormant in the Selkirk Mountains for 14 years.
Alas, in the words of the great Sylvain Saudan, “The one who loves the mountain is the one who fights with it.”
