Eric Messier, Warp Wave co-founder , Team Arcade visionary, styling out across the “Fountain of Youth”
From here, it looks like there’s no single reason we should have skis and snowboards on our backs. The hot air bakes down on our 80-plus-pound packs as we kick through the dusty trail. From where we’re hiking, we can’t see if the peaks deep in the Sierra are still holding snow this late in summer. The passing tourists on the trails share our wonder. “Where are you guys going skiing?” they continually ask. We respond, “The Fountain of Youth.”
Snowboard photographer and founder of Splitboard.com, Chris Gallardo, originally discovered, and named, the backcountry pond skim he found in a secret nook near Lake Tahoe. He called it, “The Fountain of Youth,” because, as he said, “If I go every year I know it’ll keep me young.” I question his logic as my back and knees wobble and ache under the pressure of a severely overloaded pack. The few thousand feet of climbing and many miles it takes to get back to the Fountain of Youth aren’t making me feel any younger.
The long, dusty trail in.
Every year, it’s a total crap-shoot on timing. Go too early in the summer and the snow won’t be melted enough to fill the glacial moraine-formed pond. Go too late and the snow may be gone until the next winter. This year, I join the Sierra lo-fi, surf inspired, style-centric Warp Wave film crew to document the trip for Arcade Belts and give the alpine pond skim a test myself.
As we set up camp, an unusually frigid wind blows from the southwest. Clouds pour in as we huddle in our sleeping bags. My decision to forgo a tent seems like a questionable call as rain threatens our backcountry perch.
Shivering through the night, I wake chilled but ready to get moving, which will warm me up. We still can’t see if the pond has formed. We’ll have to hike another thousand feet to get our first glimpse on the cirque that holds the Fountain of Youth.
After scrambling up a sea of granite, we crest the ridge and look down onto a cirque of snow, and at the bottom there’s an Olympic-sized pool of shimmering, sky-blue water. Our timing is impeccable. The doubts of those day-hiking tourists, and even our own, are refuted.
Gray Thompson, hunkering down in the unusually-cold July temps.
Giving way to the man who discovered this gem, Chris get’s the year’s inaugural first try. As he successfully crosses on the first attempt, he sets in motion a session of surfy, spray-throwing slashes, long-distance crossings and attempted nose-butters.
After getting shots of Eric Messier throwing a stylish lay-back across the water like Dave Rastovich in the mountains, and Tucker Andrews power carving like a Pancho Sullivan of snow, I decided to give it a whirl.
Even the view at night is worthy up here.
I hike to the top. The transition from snow to water looks remarkably abrupt. Too much speed and you’ll bottom out in the flats leading to a frosty dip in the icy pond. Too little speed and well, the end result remains the same. I click in, push off and skip across the chattery sun-cupped snow. Balance to the center of my skis (lean back too much and you wheelie out). Too forward and a watery tomahawk awaits. I hit the surface of the water. It sprays up between my edges and soaks me. The water feels like a cross between creamy pow and hero carving snow. The balance is delicate. I make it across, 180 out the wind lip at the exit. Hoots and hollers await each successful crossing.
An overview of the playing field.
As the sun sets on the day, after half-a-hundred crossings, I look out on the surrounding peaks of the Tahoe Basin. The long dusty trail we hiked in on is miles away in the distance. It’s nearly impossible to see a single patch of snow anywhere but where we sit. They say, getting old is a product of giving up ideals, ideas and enthusiasm. I realize, it’s not about the physical sense of staying young that the Fountain of Youth encompasses, but of taking part in crazy ideas filled with slivers of hope and an appetite for adventure that keeps us mountain misfits youthful.
