The mountains call, and I must go.

Unlock the Key

When I was a kid I used to read this book called "Banner in the Sky" incessantly (a dozen times? maybe 20?). "Banner in the Sky" was a story about a 17-year old boy named Rudi Matt who lived Zermatt, Switzerland in the 1800's.  Rudi worked as a dishwasher, but his true calling was the mountains. The biggest mountain in this area is the Matterhorn, which at the time of the story had never been climbed. Through a series of events, this 17-year old kid gets to be part of the first climbing expedition ever up the Matterhorn, a boy alongside two climbing legends. The highlight of the book comes when Rudi, because of his small physical stature, is able slide through a rock chimney that the others could not, and then top rope his companions up the cliff face. The author refers to this move as "unlocking the key to the mountain." (Speaking of the Matterhorn...check this out. This guy has my dream job.)

I felt like I unlocked a key to a mountain today. There is a grand massif just north of my home that I have dabbed around with on skis, but never fully explored. Odd, because when I head home each day I look to the right and see a ton of snow up there. Problem was, I never really figured out how to get to the good stuff.

My solo mission today was to figure it out. Shunned the bike this morning in favor of the skis. As is often the case when one enters exploration mode, things were a little stupid in the beginning. Tons of slogging through dense old growth forest, followed by a completely unnecessary snow climb up a 47° slope. And then, a long ski that required me to remove my skis a half-dozen times because of long patches of snowless, wind scoured tundra. Don't get me wrong - it was fantastic and brilliant - but not the picture of pure efficiency. After a couple hours of this, I topped out on a non-descript, breezy peak simply labled on the map as point 13,038.

Great views, but where was the skiing? Scanning the mountainside, I spotted something. A long gully, heading due east, that was definitely snow-filled as far as I could see. Took a chance and followed it - who knew where it might end - and was rewarded with a 3,000 vertical foot uninterrupted run of pure spring skiing corn goodness. The snow up here - scoured by winds - was much more consolidated than Bancroft and the grade was such that the skiing was fun and mellow. Better yet, when I got to the bottom I found a lone set of snowshoe tracks that followed a fairly obvious trail that went right back to my car. No bushwhacking through soft slop...a simple glide home.

The key to this close-by area is now unlocked, and I'm excited about the possibilities it offers. The endless winter continues.

Funky Goodness on Mount Bancroft

13,250-foot Mount Bancroft is new terrain for Meriwether and I. It's a nice peak, smack dab on the Continental Divide, with a huge, maybe 35° bowl that allows for skis off the summit. The predictions called for super warm temperatures today, but oddly enough Bancroft was - for the most part - shrouded in fog, lending the day a mystical, Scottish feel.

Skinning into the clouds. Not an easy climb by any stretch, due mostly to a couple factor - heavy, unconsolidated snow for a top layer and stagnant, sauna-like feel in the air. The summit of this peak is kind of interesting...when ascending, there is a jagged, obvious top. But then you get up to the ridge, and you find out there is another summit higher up, and quite rounded...non-dramatic. The whole thing was a little disorienting thanks to the fog and gallons of sweat pouring down my face on the hotter-then-hell skin up.

It's pretty rare you get to spend much comfortable time on an Indian Peaks summit (and I guess technically this isn't Indian Peaks) but on this day there was not a breath of wind. The fog was rolling in and out, and after figuring out where to go and more importantly where not to go, we got a nice break in the fog for our run. Here's Meriwether pointing down the spine of the Continental Divide north towards the next adventures.

Meriwether dropping down the east flank of the Continental Divide. Nice turns up top before it turned into a sloppy mess of slow moving slide concrete. Love the clouds in the background here.

Both Meriwether and I are on a lightweight set-up. Great for going up, powder and corn, but it requires diligence when the conditions were sloppy like today. But, that's part of the fun - doing more with less.

Drop the knee, not bombs brah! Meriwether slaying Bancroft.

There was a bit of...ummm...wet slide action out there today. Slow moving concrete that would probably remove your femur from your torso if you got caught up in it. It's definitely NOT consolidated out there, and probably not that safe for the next 3-4 days until things set-up. Lesson learned.

Despite the tricky conditions, Bancroft was good to us, offering some spectacular mountain surroundings, funky fog, zero people, a summit descent and invigorating snow conditions. What more could you ask for? Stoked for the next adventure!

Rudi Speaks...and I agree!

"Without a doubt, the summer months in the mountains are as close to my heart as the finest powder in the world. In the end it is not the light powder, it is the mountains – the way I accept their treasured beauty and how I can find myself having fun in their serenity. It is not just a grand playground – more than that, it is the frame of my life."

Ruedi Beglinger, Selkirk Mountain Experience

Dawn Patrol Yields May Powder

First ride home up the mountain tonight. Thank god for the 7th and 8th gear on the 1x8. Limits the ouch factor a bit. Feels good to do it though...a sort of beat down, meditative pain that provides clarity.

They say if life gives you lemons you should make lemonade. Lemonade this week was in the form of a dawn patrol ski in the land of the peanut with Mr. Meriwether. Powder in May? You betcha. A pretty fluffy eight inches of it altogether.  The Duo Trabs have changed my style from Chugach Mountain Guide to the Intergalactic Pilot himself - so that's what it feels like to turn. Meriwether also has a nifty light weight set-up, so we are able to cover lots of ground with minimal effort. Light and fast - you can never go wrong with that combination.

The highlight of the day - besides the good company - was watching the clouds rage into the heart of the Indian Peaks Wilderness. The mountains - Audobon, Navaho, Apache, Arikaree, Toll - they all looked primed for a good spring and super dramatic. The mountains call, and I must go. Tomorrow, an early start for the mountain of the bank!

The first four images are mine. The rest were taken by Meriwether.

Well then, why put the skis away at all?

Check it.

The mist moves in

Nothing huge today. Just a nice, contemplative, cough-filled uphill jaunt in the misty sleet with two of my best buddies in the world, Zuma and Sasha. The leading edge of what might be the last snowstorm of the season?  (ha!)  The pellet-like sleet creating a pattern on the ground, like powdered sugar spilled on a carpet. Wetness everywhere, the trees dripping, the snowdrifts rotting, the rocks glistening, the downed logs a dark teak brown, slick, organic. It felt like the moisture was coming up as well as down. My wind pants, getting wet, seeping through my long johns, my coat soaked but doing its job of keeping the water out. Hair matted outside my sponge-like hat, wool gloves a lost cause on wetness. And the creek...the lifeblood of May...brown, gurgling, rising, getting ready for the onslaught in the coming two months. Spencer Mountain bliss.  What can I say?  I like my pack and I like my territory.

James Peak delivers skiing bliss and variability

A lot of factors have converged to make the last three to four weeks a near complete wash in terms of outdoor goodness. A hectic Chinook trip followed by a pretty bad bout of the Colorado crud relegated me to maybe a half dozen easy mountain bike rides and a few sessions in the gym. Pitiful, I know. However, now that I'm not really sick (I still have the Mount Everest hack but that's no big deal) it's time to get back at it.

Today was my first ski in a month. Normally that would put me in a dour mood, but it's all relative. Whatever - I initially planned to head up to the area near Moffat Tunnel and some of the non-descript classics, and I even got out of my car, strapped on my boots and started heading on the trail near the tunnel. But something clicked there, and not in a good way. Maybe it was the knowledge of the slide in this very area a week ago, or maybe it was the raging winds and the historical awareness that the terrain I was planning to ski is avalanche prone...I have witnessed a slide here...or maybe some sixth sense...whatever, I had a bad feeling so I turned tail for a new destination. You have to trust those instincts if you're going to survive in the mountains, especially if you plan on playing this game solo.

My new course was the Southeast Face of James Peak, via Jenny Creek. Super mellow, but I've never done it before. Seeing as how I'm coming off a cold, and had new skis to boot...well, it was a good choice. Despite a lot of people, including an outward bound-type group practicing self arrests on a 15° powder slope (not super realistic thinks I), it was a nice day. A great day, really. As Swenson says, any day above timberline is a good day, and today, as I was skinning up a huge cirque surrounded by mountains, whiteness and a blue ski, I hit a level of ecstasy that I have even come close to feeling for the past 48 hours.  And it was good.

My new skis and boots - Ski Trabs with Scarpa F3 boots and Dynafit bindings is stupid light. Feels like a nordic skate ski. This was fortunate, because my fitness and energy level is a low ebb. I can't imagine how much fun it would be if I was fit. Well, that's the goal for the next 2-3 weeks! The approach via the southeast ridge is long but aesthetically satisfying - dramatic if you will. I took the ridge route and checked out the spot where Meriwether and I almost died last year. Le grand drop into nothing. Definitely not doing that today, and I was probably hanging to close to the cornice to make Lou Dawson happy, but oblidioblidah. Lots of false summits on that ridge, but finally, two hours later, the summit was reached. A relatively calm feel after the raging winds of the morning.

Back down was interesting. For a lot of reasons. Skis had something to do with it. I have not been on a ski with a waist smalled than 110 mm in a long time, so the 70-some-odd waist on the lighter than light Ski Trabs was, ummm, odd. On top of that, conditions were ridiculously variable. Mid winter powder up top with a nice 2  inch wind crust. Rock solid crust a little further down. Then maybe 3 turns of powder, followed by about 10 turns of honest to goodness corn. Further down, and it turned to total deep slop. Ahh, the realities of 2,900 foot descents on May 11. Got the hang of the skis by the end (note to self...bevel to tip and tail) and think they will be the perfect ski for more solid corn and Dead Dog Couloir-type terrain. They are so light, you could pull a hop turn like Kobe!

It was good to get back out there. Life is tough right now, and it's super important to maintain the discipline of getting into the woods and mountains each and every day. I'll end this with the story of the Taoist farmer because it applies well now. A little message about how what seems good isn't unnecessarily so, just as those events that seem unconditionally bad almost always have a shining end:

This farmer had only one horse, and one day the horse ran away. The neighbors came to condole over his terrible loss. The farmer said, "What makes you think it is so terrible?"

A month later, the horse came home--this time bringing with her two beautiful wild horses. The neighbors became excited at the farmer's good fortune. Such lovely strong horses! The farmer said, "What makes you think this is good fortune?"

The farmer's son was thrown from one of the wild horses and broke his leg. All the neighbors were very distressed. Such bad luck! The farmer said, "What makes you think it is bad?"

A war came, and every able-bodied man was conscripted and sent into battle. Only the farmer's son, because he had a broken leg, remained. The neighbors congratulated the farmer. "What makes you think this is good?" said the farmer.

Red Tailed Drifted Slog

clear, breezy, mid-20's. Well, there are really two options. Sit around, mope and die, or get active. Made a choice yesterday to follow the path of the latter. Not exactly prime conditions for it either. Four inches of snow fell the previous night and during the day. Slapped the 2.7 Timberwolves with the SnowCat rims back on the Moots and headed into the land of Mongolia to check out the scene. The scene is...well...snow drifts. Gigantic snowdrifts larger than man and beast combined. Well, OK, they  we not that big, but I was also sticking to the jeep roads while making my way to the southern crossing route. Despite the large quantity of pushing, and the obviousness that I was out here about three weeks too early, it was fun. A Lewis and Clark style adventure if you will.

On my way back, pushing into the wind, I saw a red tailed hawk swooping and swirling in the current, skirting over and elk meadow and then hovering and diving over an aspen grove. So free, so fiery. I envy the red tailed hawk...actually I envy all animals, for while their life is hard, their life is also practical and simple and elegant.

Today, a ski. Somewhere up high. A peak - maybe Radiobeacon, Flattop, James...who knows. All in the quest to be like the red tailed hawk, at least for a few moments.  Gotta go, gotta go.

Colorado Love

This is one of my favorite sounds. The pitter of rain outside my window, mixed with the creek gurgling in the background. The world is wet and misty, a swirling mass of fog and clouds. My favorite weather. When I was a little kid my parents lived on a rocky beach in northern California for one year. We had a tiny house literally right on the edge of the beach and the Pacific Ocean. I used to love it at night...I shared a bedroom with my mom and dad, and had my bed situated in a little alcove jutting out from the house to the west. When the storms raged - and they did often in the winter - the brunt of it would blow directly against my large picture window. The waves from the ocean would crash literally 20 or 30 feet from my window, a scary but addictive natural phenomenon. I'd peer out through the sill, as the streaks of water coated it as the wind ripped through, pounding, pounding, pummeling. Point is, I've always loved storms and rain - I feel at my physical and mental strongest when conditions get heinous.

A fantastic mountain bike ride today. Still lingering with the cold, but no matter. A mix of trails and dirt roads, starting in Happy Valley and ending in Boulder. The light...ahh the light. That low angle beautiful shine that we get in the Colorado high country about an hour before sunset. Stopped in a greening valley, checking out the blooming pasque flowers, soaking it in. And then, back on the saddle, a quick few peddle strokes to get back up to speed, along the moist, perfectly tacky dirt. Flowing, left, right, up, down, at one with everything. Pure joy really. I've learned by now that the bike and the woods are a great cure for anything that ails you, and I also came to the realization that the place I live in now is pretty darned nice. I love the "color red" state in all seasons, and early May, when everything is coming to life and a misty fog is the norm, is no exception.

Visit the woods. You won't regret it.

The Skier’s Ten Commandments

1. Thou shalt have no other sports before ski.

2. Thou shalt not take with thee any showshoes, neither any snowboards, nor any other means of transportation, from the heavens above to the earth beneath.

3. Thou shalt have no friends, nor girlfriends, nor boyfriends, nor husbands, nor wives, nor fathers, mothers or siblings on powder days unless said individual can keep up.

4. Remember the winter time and keep it holy; in the summer thou shalt labor and do all thy work, but the winter is the season of the ski, the Lord and master. In its evenings thou shalt not fritter away thy time with backgammon, nor with cribbage, nor Nintendo, X-Box or Wii, nor tiddlelywinks, nor jig-saw puzzles, but in the sweat of thy brow shalt thou polish and wax thy skis. For in ten hours shalt thou labor and climb up the hill and in ten minutes shalt thou be down again.

5. Carry thine own skis and thy knapsack, that thy friends shall not avoid thee, and that thy days may be long on the ski trips that thou makest.

6. Thou shalt not dither.

7. Thou shalt not commit sitzmarks.

8. Thou shalt not swipe thy neighbor's ski wax.

9. Thou shalt not bear false witness of thy downhill runs, nor thy jump turns, nor thy Telemarks.

10. Thous shalt not covet thy neighbor's climbing skins, nor thy neighbor's agility, nor his Stem-Christiana, nor his Closed-Christiana, nor his Open-Christiana, nor any Christiana which is thy neighbor's.