The Soloist

Finding a silent sender in the Pacific Northwest.

- David Page

On a sunny day in May 2011, photographer Zach Clanton sat on his split board eating lunch above the closed Mount Baker Ski Area. Scanning the face of Mount Shuksan through his zoom lens, he saw a fresh skin track. It was like stumbling upon the tracks of a mythical animal—a Sasquatch or a spirit bear. He followed the track until he saw a lone figure near the top of the White Salmon Glacier. He settled in to wait, with his elbows on his knees. Whoever it was—whatever it was—would have to come down. When it did, Clanton would be there to get the shot.

He had a feeling who it might be. He’d seen the signature Toyota Santana camper in the parking lot. The one with the barking dog and plywood/12-pack cases for cushions over the seat springs. He’d heard the stories. Everyone who’d spent any time in the small and scattered tribe of Washington backcountry skiers had heard them. With dozens of hair ball solo descents in the North Cascades— some of them previously unimaginable firsts—the man likely at the top of the skin track had become something of a legend.

And this was a land of legends—Thunderbird, Seawolf, Fred Beckey, Steve Barnett, Carl Skoog. This particular legend didn’t have sponsors. He wasn’t tied to a steady job. He lived in his truck with his beloved dog, Sadie, who had long ago, during one of his frequent multi-day absences, eaten the dashboard and the upholstery from the seats.