Searching for the Pot of Gold at the End of the Rainbow

The knife-edge ridge leading to the summit of Rainbow peak arcs into the sky that overlooks a brilliant blue ocean and the small town of Haines, Alaska. My ski partner, Sunny and I have been looking at this extraordinary peak for over a decade but it wasn't until record-breaking snow fall in March of 2010 that the route to our goal presented itself. Helicopters are not allowed to land this peak so the only legitimate way to summit is by foot. It was 5pm in the evening when we reached the crux move, 90 meters below the summit. On belay, I straddle the ridgeline (as if riding a horse) and begin kicking steps into the side of the mountain. My instincts take over as I jam my ice axe above my head and balance for another incremental step.

My focus is skyward as I try to ignore the loose snow pouring over the exposure below. The last thing I want to do is look down. I reach the summit with a grave sense of relief, and click into my bindings. Sunny smiles as he points out the flicker of the shiny metal roof of his house. It's safe to assume that he will never look up at this mountain the same way again, but this is not a time for celebration. Standing on top of Rainbow Peak is intimidating. The mountain rolls away into the abyss, like you are standing on top of a gigantic basketball. It is physically impossible to see beyond my third turn as I struggle to maintain my composure. I rehearse my line in my mind, a skill that I learned through racing World Cup Downhill for nearly a decade.

I may have felt comfortable standing in the start gate of Kitzbuhel, but big mountain skiing in Alaska is an entirely different sport. There are no practice runs, no cheering fans, and no protective fencing. Instead, I find myself surrounded by jagged peaks as far as the eye can see. There is no place that I would rather be than standing on top of this mountain that we have been dreaming about descending for over a decade. I buckle my boots, take a few deep breaths, and roll forward. Gravity takes control as I make an aggressive left turn, pushing all the moving snow over the cliffs to my right. Quickly, I wiggle back towards the other direction before making another deliberate left hand turn.

At the end of this fluid motion, I gain a quick glimpse of my intended slot on a perfectly rounded spine leading to a mandatory air. Without hesitation, I dive in and commit to the fall line as I instantly become surrounded by moving snow. I have no choice but to point my skis directly down the fall line and accept the acceleration and the air time. When my skis touch back down, I realize the only way to regain control is to schmere a series of high speed turns. My vision is blurred by the high rate of speed but I can sense the right side of the mountain erupting into a massive cloud of slough. Fortunately, I control my speed in time to skip across the Bergschrund and avoid the crevasses on the run-out.

I quickly relay pertinent information back to Sunny as he chooses an alternative slot and proceeds to rip tele turns to the bottom. Now it is time to celebrate as we make our final turns to Base Camp where a warm meal awaits. The next morning, we break down camp and begin our descent to the ocean. Avoiding the massive ice floe of the Rainbow Glacier, we are forced to take a far-left route down valley before traversing over the ridgeline, just below a small notch called The Witches Tit. The snow quality is unexpectedly good as we make powder turns nearing sea level. Our progress is swift until we run out of snow, three kilometers from the water's edge.

From there we strap our skis to packs and begin the downhill climb through an old growth pine forest dominated by Devil's Club, a prickly under bush that sticks to everything it touches. Fortunately the soil is soft and spongy as we kick steps around steep cliffs and fallen debris. It's an eight hour day by the time we finally reach the beach where we meet our scheduled boat pick up. We load our gear onto the six meters Zodiak and begin crossing the channel. The ocean is a sheet of glass as we look back at the reflection of Rainbow. This is my last run of the trip and I can't think of a better way to finish off the season. That is until pod of Orca whales chase our boat back to the harbor. You never know what to expect in Alaska... the Land of WOW!