It’s been a year of bucket list items. Ice climbing for the first time was at the top of my list, but second was a wish to return to Tuckerman’s for a shot at skiing the ravine. The last time I went was years ago, and when we got to the Hermit Lake Shelter (aka “Hojo’s”), blizzard-like conditions set in, blowing us and everyone else at Hojo’s back down the Sherburne Trail. Ski Patrol was there too, and they told us they weren’t letting anyone go up—but we didn’t need the warning. It was howling!
If you’re a skier from New England, chances are good you’ve heard of Tuckerman’s. And if you’re a passionate skier from anywhere in the United States, I’m sure you have. Tuckerman’s Ravine is the stuff of legend. Making the effort to get there and having to turn around didn’t haunt me, but it was also something I didn’t forget. I still wanted to experience it.
So, when a buddy called me a couple of weeks ago (ok, you’re right, texted) to see if I was up for trying it, my response was immediate. Whoa baby! Translation: Hell yeah. I’m in, in, double-in! The timing was apropos. This season, I’ve finally been able to get back to winter climbing, as my fitness and health continue to improve, and trying for Tuck’s felt like the next step in my progression—a perfect way to finish a winter of comebacks.
One of the first sights along the trail: The Ellis River
The Tuckerman Ravine Trail
After watching the weather alerts and trail reports all week, we felt confident that Friday, April 11th, looked like a fair and safe day to try it. After verifying the route with some people in the parking lot at the Pinkham Notch Visitor Center, we strapped on the skins and began our trek up the Tuckerman Ravine Trail.
From the get-go, it was clear I was out of practice. As soon as we started skinning, my friend leapt out ahead of me like I was standing still. Shimmying up the trail, I told him that if he wanted to pace ahead, that was fine by me. He asked if my feet were free. Looking down, I realized what he did: I hadn’t released the bindings to go into walk mode. Oh boy.
Relearning the Gear
Skinning is funny. I’ve done it at least twenty times, and it doesn’t matter—every time feels like I have to relearn the gear. Especially the touring bindings. Staring at the back of the ski where the heel sets in, my first thought is always, how does this work again?
After finally finding the release button so the back part of the binding can lift up, the next trick is to figure out how to keep the binding from clicking back in as you make your way uphill. Usually there’s a little bar you flip over so that when your foot comes down, it doesn’t reengage the binding and lock you into ski-mode. I have no idea what this bar is actually called—I call it the whammy bar.
With the whammy bar engaged, I was finally ready. As we made our way up the trail, the snow was good, but we had several tiny brook crossings to navigate. Little rivulets, really, that were opening up due to the spring melt. My friend was splitboarding and chose to remove his planks to walk across several of them, while I left my longer skis on and carefully tread across. I think I was trying to conserve energy.
The Hermit Lake Shelter aka “Hojo’s”
After 2.4 miles on what was a beautiful skin up, we arrived at the Hermit Lake Shelter at the same time as a couple of other adventurers. These two had opted to carry their skis rather than skin up, using microspikes for traction to help with the effort. That seemed like a really good idea. With the hardpacked trail, they made better time than us and overtook us right before the shelter. They seemed like a couple of good ones to ask for advice on where to go.
The recommendation we got was to go to Hillman’s. Since you skin up the same route you’re planning to ski down, it gives you a better sense of the terrain and might help you assess the avalanche risk. We had received the same recommendation from someone else before we even headed to Tuckerman’s, so it gave us some reassurance. Without further deliberation, we headed to Hillman’s.
Up to Hillman’s Highway
The pitch up Hillman’s is steep, and on this day, it was very icy. We made our way up as far as we could with skins, and when the incline became too much, we attempted to find a safe spot to toe in. Wearing ski boots, I headed up first, kicking at the slope with my toes to create a footpath of sorts. Using lock-steps, I made my way up the trail while carrying my skis on my shoulder. It was slow going.
Because of the fog hanging around Washington’s summit, it was hard to tell just how far we got up Hillman’s, but let’s be generous and call it halfway. Wherever we were, the trail narrowed, leaving us only a shallow area where there wasn’t any ice to contend with. Considering how steep the trail is, a false move could have propelled us down the slope and into a dangerous result, so we decided it was time to turn around.
The Descent
Before I could click into my skis, I was met by another climber who decided to turn around at the same spot. He said he’d been to Tuckerman’s many times, and I figured if this guy felt like it was a good turning point, we were making good decisions. But good decisions aren’t always enough—this was one of those situations where you also really want to have the best gear. It turns out, I did not.
After strapping on my skis, I shifted downwards to turn and got tripped up on… the snow. What the heck? From down below I heard my buddy say, “It’s sticky.” That made me feel better, but moving my skis across the snow felt like trying to slide two pieces of sandpaper across each other. Weird. I tried again, and the snow tripped me again. My legs must be jelly from the climb. Trying to work some magic into my quads, I took a couple of hops and then let gravity do the rest. I went, but it was ugly. My wife saw a video of me afterward and said, “It looks like you’re learning to ski.” Something was off.
Coming down Hillman’s Highway. These pictures make my turns look prettier than they were!
Gear Failure
Scooting my way down through the low brush at the bottom of Hillman’s, I came to a dead stop when the trail bottomed out. I tried to slide forward, poling it at the start of the Sherburne Trail, but the skis wouldn’t budge. What is going on? Removing my skis, I found a good deal of snow caked onto the bottoms, forming long, frozen mounds right under the center of the skis. That was problem one. But as I scraped the ice off with my poles, I discovered the bottoms were covered in glue. Apparently, the glue from my hiking skins had completely transferred onto the skis. Earlier, when I took my skins off, I noticed they didn’t seem too sticky—now I knew why!
Old Dogs Learning New Tricks
After ten minutes of scraping the bottoms of my skis, we were able to get enough glue off that I could move, but it was a choppy ride down “the Sherbie.” The spring melt didn’t help, leaving several areas of exposed rock, dirt, and tall grass to contend with. But despite a rough ride down and some equipment failure, the day was a total success in my mind. We couldn’t fully ascend Tuck’s or catch great conditions, but we still learned a lot for next time.
Some of the key lessons:
- Don’t use skins that are so old they leave all of their glue on your skis when you peel them off! You’ll literally stick to the snow. Makes turning no bueno.
- In springtime, with so much icy terrain, it would be better to carry our skis on our backs and hike up using spikes. (With touring, you get a lot of opinions on the right way to do things. My advice is do what’s right for you! In icy conditions on steep cliffs like Tuckerman’s, personally, I would have preferred having spikes and some ice axes.)
- Next time, let’s go in February or March. Even if we get stuck only skiing the Sherburne Trail, we’ll have good snow for the ride!
🧭 Ascent Details: Hillman’s Highway via Tuckerman Ravine Trail
- Route: Pinkham Notch Visitor Center → Tuckerman Ravine Trail (~2.3 miles) → Base of Hillman’s Highway (about halfway up the trail)
- Elevation Gain: ~1,800–2,000 feet
- Descent: Ski down Hillman’s Highway → merge back onto the Sherburne Ski Trail → return to Pinkham
- Distance: ~4.5–5 miles round trip
- Difficulty: Moderate to strenuous, depending on snow conditions and snowpack stability
⛷️ Note: Hillman’s is steep and can avalanche—check current avalanche forecasts and carry appropriate gear if attempting in winter/spring.
The Sherbie was icy on Friday!
What’s the best way to climb once you get past HoJos?