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The Sierra Buttes tower above Hwy 49 in Northern California on the way out to Sierra City and Downieville about 30 miles from Truckee. The Buttes are the tallest peaks before you reach Lassen Volcanic National Park. They are characterized by their huge pinnacles, and the volcanic make-up of the rock tells stories of generations past. The Downieville area is thriving with climbers, hikers and mountain bikers in the Spring and Summer, but in the winter there are few visitors. Storms and weather can develop with little notice and the terrain is far too steep for most people who are simply looking for a nice view. The North Yuba river flows wildly and freely along the side of the road at the base of the craggy Buttes. Along the narrow road the pines get bigger and the landscape gets steeper. The drive is peculiar. It envokes a spirit of curiousity and wonder, and the looming Buttes are humbling. "I can't wait to do the Buttes. When are we going to hike the Buttes? Is today a good day for the Buttes?" My boyfriend Justin and I had been asking ourselves these questions for a year. Last year we hiked out to them not really prepared for a super long hike, and the day closed in on us way too quickly. We made it only as far as a distant ridge, just far enough in to scope our lines and leave us wanting more. Earlier this year we drove out to the Buttes, but they were socked in and we had no way of really knowing where the best snow was going to be. The weather was malicious, and the winds were howling at us to go away. Again, we were left unsatisfied. Last weekend, though, the conditions were just perfect. The weather was forcasted to be nice, and the Buttes were calling our names. Justin and I left Reno (which is my favorite part about going anywhere) around 6:00 in the morning and met up with our friends Corky and Paige in Truckee. They both ride for Moment Skis based in Reno, and they are both real go-getters. They ski often, and play hard. The hike was going to be fun. As we drove out through the Sierraville Valley passed the babbling brooks and the old and tired brokedown barns, the cows were just waking up, and the birds were busy getting ready for the day. The sun came to life in a fine display of color. I finished my coffee and sat in stillness in the backseat of Corky's Subaru Forester, trying to calm my nerves. I wasn't worried, just intimidated. All my hikes up until this point had been smaller, and I knew the Buttes demanded more of me. 
We parked at a pull out just inside the Bassetts city line. The morning was crisp, and I welcomed the fresh breath of air. In unison, the four of us began to prepare for the climb. Routine is essential to me on hikes like these. Out of routine, I'll forget certain important things... like sunglasses. And water. Luckily I had my water this time. And lucky for me Paige had some super sweet neon orange sunglasses complete with Moment stickers on the sides. With our packs loaded and excitement in our bones, we began hiking around 8:00 a.m. Immediately from the parking area we were hiking straight up the North face of the eastern most Butte. And that was our trajectory for the next 3 hours. Up. The town of Bassetts is located at 5500 feet above sea level. We were aiming for elevation 8600. Through vast glacial carved valleys, and up the steep pitches we climbed. The sun was hot, much warmer than expected. Around 10:00 we made it to a wide open, snowy bowl that could be seen from the road. We were at the base of several steep ski-able couloirs, one of which was apparently longer. The four of us barely even discussed what we'd do next. We were all in agreement that the steep, long couloir would be the best couloir to ski.   We began our boot pack up the narrow couloir. This part of the hike was new for me. I had never been so vulnerable and at a mountain's mercy before. The rock walls towered above us, and the ice chunks didn't care that we were in their paths as they came tumbling down from above. In the belly of the couloir a trough had been carved out about two feet wide and two feet deep from moving snow. A hawk rested on a ledge above and yelled at us for trespassing. Or maybe he was bidding us good day. Either way, it was a good day and we ended up summiting and enjoying an amazing view from the top. After a quick snack and a gulp of water, we each dropped in to the steepness. I heal sided the first bit on my snowboard because it was icy, but the couloir quickly opened up to some really decent soft snow. The run out and down to the car was some of the best snow I've ridden so far. Turns are always better when you earn them. We finished off the day with some Black Butte Porter and good food at the Blue Coyote in Truckee. We chatted about our day, and we were all proud of our accomplishments.  
I began the hike with eagerness and commitment to doing my best. There wasn't a time that I wanted to turn back. Each foot in front of the other was another step toward achieving a new goal. When the couloir got tight, the hike too steep, and the burning sun too hot I pressed on. The mountain never ceases to teach me lessons about life and myself. When I approach the tasks before me, on and off the mountain, I simply need to clear my mind of the voice that says it can't be done. Because it can. And it's usually worth the effort.
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