FKT – Sierra High Route (Skiers)
March 15, 2026 | 17:11
Wolverton → Shepherd Pass Trailhead
Telemark. Unsupported. Single push.
Short version:
West to East is harder. You also spend the best parts of the route skiing through a headlamp tunnel, wondering if you’re crushing it or just lost with confidence.
This effort was supposed to be a “training day” for something bigger, which is always a slightly dangerous mindset, because the mountains don’t care what label you put on it. You either show up ready…or you learn.
And in my 49th year, I learned.
I started at 11pm from Wolverton in full darkness, no moon, no ambient light, just a headlamp doing its best 75-meter impression of daylight (realistically 30). The west side immediately demands more attention: dense forest, random posthole highways, and just enough snow to make you question every decision. Skins, it turns out, work great on dirt, rocks, and pine needles…Pomoca just hasn’t marketed that yet.
Once higher, toward the top of the Hump, everything turned to snow…technically. The kind that keeps you honest.
Through Heather, Emerald, and Pear, I could’ve been anywhere. Total sensory-deprivation skiing. The Tablelands brought a warm breeze and a whole new game: random full-body collapses through the snowpack. Nothing like disappearing mid-stride to keep you engaged.
From the top of the Tablelands into Lonely Lake and over Fin Pass was the first real skiing. It was smooth and straightforward, but navigating it in the dark kept you on your toes and not just because I telemark.
Navigation toward Coppermine in the dark? Let’s call it “creative route finding.” I know this terrain well, but with limited light it became more intuition than certainty. Pick a line, commit, hope it works. Conditions bounced between knee-deep postholing and firm snow, back and forth just enough to keep things interesting.
At the ridge, the wind picked up, temps dropped, and I threw on every layer I had. Ate some pocket bacon (elite decision) and briefly convinced myself there might be a group camping there with a backcountry espresso bar waiting just before dropping into Cloud Canyon. Still waiting on that, no people, no tracks, nothing until Shepherd Pass.
Dawn finally showed up like a reset button. Suddenly the Sierra reappeared, massive, sharp, and wildly beautiful. It felt like being dropped into the middle of something sacred. That shift alone lifted the entire effort.
Triple Divide, No Name, and Milestone all moved well, despite strawberry fields of runnels everywhere. Milestone Pass delivered a mix of rock scrambling, snow was much lower than in past years. I’ve climbed Milestone plenty from the east, but hadn’t skied it towards the Kern. It’s exposed, with hidden rocks and just enough steepness to matter. A fall here would be bad, so I’d be lying if I said there weren’t some nerves dropping in.
Turns out, the snow was pretty good. A few careful turns, a couple of step-overs, and then it opened up into the best corn cycle of the entire trip, all the way to the Kern. That section was special.
Then…the Kern.
And everything changed.
Climbing out toward Diamond Mesa in the heat of the day was, without exaggeration, one of the more miserable slogs I’ve had out there. Fully unsupported snow, collapsing every step, heat radiating like an oven. Progress slowed to a grind. Shepherd Pass sat in the distance like a bad joke that just wouldn’t land.
That was the low point.
Eventually, Shepherd. Then the descent, which started with good turns, shifted to survival skiing, and ended in full-contact combat with rotten snow, trees, and gravity. I went down…a lot. The kind of falls where you just lay there for a second and reconsider your life choices. The snow was hard to describe…I’ve skied a lot, and this was something else.
Checked the watch near Mahogany Flat and realized, “Oh…wow, I’m closer to my original time than I thought.” And just like that, the wonder set in.
So, as most of us would do…I picked up the pace.
That flipped a switch.
So…naturally…ran it out in tele boots.
Because why not.
Note: The creeks at the end were no trouble this year, easy to Mary Poppins over.
Lessons Learned:
- West → East is harder. More navigation, less downhill skiing, and (this year) far more effort.
- You lose the magic in the dark. Some of the best terrain on the route…completely missed.
- Timing matters. Diamond Mesa in midday heat? Never again.
- Conditions decide everything. This wasn’t just hard...it was that kind of hard because of the snow.
Would I do it this way again, knowing what I know now?
Maybe…but now that I’ve done it, that’s a firm pass.
But that’s also the point.
There’s something about these efforts that strips things down. You go in thinking you know what you’re capable of, and come out with a clearer, humbler answer. Not smaller…just more honest.
This was a reminder that even familiar terrain can demand something new from you and that the edge of what’s possible is still out there, waiting…usually disguised as a bad idea.
Big thanks to my wife and kiddos, they’re the real backbone behind these pushes. And to friends (Beers, Nathaniel, 22 Designs and many more) who help make it all logistically possible and mentally sane. Unsupported doesn’t mean alone.
Lexi and Michele – Wishing you both a successful Adventure…you got this!
And yeah…
Long live old tele guys.