Seizing a Sierra Moment

Generational and historic are lightly used terms in the backcountry scene. By all metrics, it was a deep (read generational and historic) snowpack last spring in the Sierra—the Range of Light drew Sam Chaneles in.

I’m obsessed with snow. Windy and the NWS Forecast Discussion are the focus of my breakfast and coffee every morning. I’m the detail-oriented type with ski ideas documented in a massive Caltopo file that takes forever to load. So, when it was clear that the Eastern Sierra was having a historic year in spring 2023, I couldn’t help but obsess. Atmospheric rivers on repeat—so much snow.

Throughout my winter 2023 around Snoqualmie Pass and the PNW backcountry, the Sierra and its overabundance of snow water equivalent was the focus of my friend group’s skintrack discussions. “This is the year for the Sierra,” we’d say. Few of us had been, and it was mostly just small talk, a pipe dream.

Throughout March, I watched from a distance in the Pacific Northwest, still waiting to feel the time was right. Once April rolled around, I felt an insatiable itch. My neurotic side started to kick in. I began seeing people skiing down in the Sierra on my Strava feed and Instagram, and the FOMO grew.

I work from home for a corporation—I’m not a professional skier with a “project” or obligation. I’m ski-obsessed, but it’s not my livelihood, just my obsession. I’m 25, with no mortgage, kids, life partner, or other serious life obligations. I had no reason not to take time off and go down south. 

What was holding me back?

The opportunity-cost optimization cycle was circling the drain. Is it worth the drive? What if there’s bad weather? Oh, but Mt. Rainier will be good. Why should I leave?

I chatted with a friend staying in the Eastern Sierra for a month and got the scoop. I won’t divulge all the details, but within four hours, I packed my Honda CR-V, a sleeping bag, and three pairs of skis and drove toward California. On such short notice, I’d have to work a few days from coffee shops on the road, but that was a small price to pay. It’d be worth it…right?

With such haste, I didn’t have a precise “plan.” There was no “tick list” or grand traverse guiding my trip. I didn’t have consistent partners lined up. For once, I ignored all of my “spreadsheet” items, checklists, regular partners, and familiar habits. I decided to put myself in a position to be in the right place at the right time and see what came of it. 

The plan felt makeshift but not reckless. I could piece something together— It’s the Sierra in a HISTORIC year, there’ll be stuff to ski. Three days of driving would give me plenty of time to think.