Monkey See, Monkey Do

When discussing the philosophical points of teaching skiing, we often spout out the mantra, "monkey see, monkey do," meaning if I model a perfect parallel turn time after time for some kid from Arkansas, they will inherently pick up on it and learn the same perfect turns. Take this philosophy to a different level of skiing - for instance, Tyler and I sitting on the couch watching pro skiers huck themselves off 80 foot cliffs in the most bad-ass TGR films - and you get end of the season pictures like this one. Granted, this hit is nowhere close to 80 feet, but for us it was an incredible culmination to a season spent pushing ourselves and our skiing on the slopes of Snowmass. Tyler got to be the model because I was the only one who could find a camera, but also cause he was styling his new jacket. This is his best hit of the season, one we estimated was at least 25 feet, and which he stomped in perfect style.

Four days before closing - there was plenty of fresh powder and almost nobody around to track it up. We warmed up the day with a couple laps on Gowdy's, supposedly the steepest run in the Aspen resorts. I remember the first time we skied this run a few months ago, inching over the lip at the top and carefully checking our speed with every turn. Today we took turns launching the lip and then ripping GS turns to the bottom, where ten seconds later we would stop and watch as our buddies dropped in 400 feet above us. To me this was amazing proof of what a 100 day season and the will to improve can yield.

This is one of our favorite hits, located at the bottom of the run Baby Ruth. A couple months ago we were scared to death to temp fate by scraping over this one, which we called an 18 footer, but on this day Tyler hit it with speed and took off from way above the rocks. Like every hit all day we both stomped the landing and ripped away to the laughing, whooping, screaming good powder in the trees below. I just gotta thank Tyler for being such a rad skiing partner cause the season wouldn't have been the same without him, and don't worry Mom and Dad, we always wear our helmets.

"Baldy One" Couloir - GS Turns in the Mist

Dakota and Kristo were in town for the past two days to finish off the ski season, which we did at Highlands on Sunday, despite the rain. On Monday we went back country skiing just outside of the Snowmass ski resort, using the lifts to gain about 3,500 free verts. Joining us were my friends from ski school, Jemma and Lee. Jemma is a fun-loving Kiwi who works here in the winters, and Lee is an American turned New Zealand resident who also teaches skiing year round. The weather was quite variable throughout the day, but it began with us freezing in low dense clouds on the lifts. Eventually we reached the top of the resort and began climbing up a ridge through a second, higher, cloud layer which oddly enough was sweltering hot and had us all down to our tee shirts. After no more than half an hour we found ourselves on top of a sub-peak of Mt. Baldy at around 13,000ft. The couloirs which dropped off the ridge from beyond this point looked a little less filled in, so we decided we would ski to the west down a huge broad gully coated with about six inches of fresh powder. Here is Lee and Jemma joining us on the top.

After putting on our skis the clouds rolled in thick and we were forced to wait for a quick break to begin our descent. Dakota won a quick game of rock, paper, scissors, and took the first turns with Jemma looking on. The snow was fresh and heavy and the turns were great. Unfortunately we were continually plagued by the mist.

The bottom half of the run turned into a huge gully between cliff bands. It was not too steep, and the thick fresh snow was super supportive for big, fast, GS turns. I had the luck of getting the freshies through here, and ripped it for all I was worth, giggling and whooping the whole way. I stopped to take photos and Lee passed on by, charging down with Kristo and Dakota watching. Moments later he suffered a spectacular wipe-out, and I took the chance to lead through some fun little airs out the bottom of the chute. Our adventure was only beginning, as we now had to ski about three miles down the valley. The rain that began falling contributed to the super weak snow pack, and at times we were sinking to our knees with our skis on! Eventually we reached the melt-out zone, which around here has already risen to about 10,000ft and had to do a bit of walking. From here we were able to curve around and get back on to the trails of Snowmass, where we wasted no time making our way to the bar at the base. A super great day skiing with good friends, both new and old.

Bird shit, Hobos, and Some Sprinkles

Yesterday I went sport climbing at a limestone crag near Glenwood Springs called the Neighborhood. I went with Josh Wharton and Jed Wareham-Morris, who live not too far down the street. Jed is on the left and Josh on the right.

Together we are probably the top(only) three climbers who live in Rifle. Josh is a professional alpinist who zips off twice a year to climb the coolest mountains in the world, and Jed is a ridiculously motivated and slightly obsessive sport climber who lives, breathes, and thinks climbing. I have known both of them since I was in college in Boulder, and they are great climbing buddies to have around. This small obscure crag was one of the few places Josh hadn't climbed within a hundred miles or so, so he was psyched.

The Neighborhood has got some incredible ambiance, lemme tell you.
You have to park near the train tracks and walk down them a ways towards the canyon. As you walk you pass by some thermal holes which stink like sulfur and which rumor has it hobos actually crawl into and use as vapor caves. Soon you hike up a hill and encounter the crag - a short piece of dirty limestone covered in bird shit and practically grid-bolted. Litter dots the ground, and the highway noise from I-70, which lies just across the canyon, blares out any attempts at long-range discussion. The weirdest thing might have been the nesting Canadian Goose that Josh stumbled across at the top of the first climb, which hissed at him defending her territory. I had no idea geese roosted on cliffs. Around the corner was a larger cave which housed some harder routes. Unfortunately it was coated in bird shit, had pigeons flying in and out of it, and while belaying I was standing in probably 4 inches of bird shit. Josh thought the routes were pretty good; I was disgusted. I did find some old hobo signatures on a rock panel, one of which dated 1893, which was slightly anthropologically interesting. I can only assume that birds hadn't yet taken over when the hobos frequented this place.

Today the climbing was much nicer. Josh and I climbed with Micah, who was in town to give a slide show about his adventures last night. We climbed beautiful rock in the pleasant Rifle Canyon, and despite getting sprinkled on during one climb, the day was amazing. This is me climbing on the project of the day called Kingfisher.

Birthday Party in the Desert

Friday afternoon I made the last minute decision to bag the weekend of skiing and head to the desert for my friend Micah Dash's 30th birthday party. Here is the birthday boy himself, looking like he's been in the desert for awhile, with his girlfriend Amelia back and to his right and Ned back and to the left. I first met Micah many years ago when I was a young neophyte climbing in Yosemite Valley. He was pretty much a full time climbing bum then, but occasionally took the time to complete a semester of school at CU. While I was finishing up in Boulder we would sometimes run into each other on campus, and soon became partners for sport climbing. I climbed my first ever 5.13 with Micah belaying me, and he has been a good friend since. I had not seen Micah in almost a year, and seeing as how there would be a large and fun posse climbing in The Creek, and it was his birthday, I just had to make the trip.

Kristo was already on his way out from Boulder, but we agreed to rally together from my house. I managed to beat him there on my way home from Snowmass by just a couple of minutes, and one speeding ticket and about four hours later we made it to the monkey bivy beneath the Bridger Jack spires. Next day we climbed with a large crew at the Reservoir Wall. Here is Kristo climbing the short but amazing Left Crack, which he managed to redpoint at 5.12, being belayed by John Dickey. I played top-rope hero for the day, which was really quite mellow and allowed me to try a bunch of very hard climbs that would have required far more gusto to lead. As the day went on more friends kept arriving and the anticipation of the impending party grew. Gobi covered hands and impending darkness eventually drove everyone away from the cliff and back to camp, where the party ensued. A clear full moon night, a campfire, whiskey, beer, and lots of people made this a good one to remember.

I love the openness of the desert. I have always been attracted to desolate, remote places, where there are no sounds except the wind or an occasional bird, and lights from towns don't even come close to penetrating the darkness of night. I love being able to watch the entire sky light up during a sunset in colors that would look fake if they were painted; with no buildings or telephone wires to obstruct the view. We remained in the desert for two more days, climbing and relaxing, cooking and hiking, until everyone had somewhere else they needed to be. Somehow when I leave the memories all become blended into the giant continuum of desert road-trip memories, eventually becoming indistinguishable from every other trip to the desert, but always enshrouded by that feeling of comfortable loneliness which draws me back with wonder every time.

Work and Wet Snow

Work: yep, been a lot of that lately. I've logged my all time record of ten days in a row working(heh, its a lot for me), and it felt pretty much like a blur. Which is where the laziness comes in. I haven't been taking any good pictures lately because I've just been working, and I've been too worn out to deal with writing any new blogs. The ski season is almost over, though, (at least for the resorts) but until then I'm just trying to log as many days as possible. The weather has been very warm, and the snow has been, well, variable. Glop, glue, mashed potatoes, sludge, sticky white crap, however you want to describe it "new" or "powder" has not been an oft used adjective lately. But, the sun makes the days pleasant if nothing else.

Speaking of wet snow, the last good ski adventure I had was about two weeks ago, the day after returning from the desert. Danny, Trish, and I met up with Dakota and Kristo at the summit of Vail pass for a day of back country skiing. It was my first day of spring skiing this season, and has yet to be rivaled. The terrain shots I took were a bit lackluster, but there were lots of classic people shots. Here is Danny and Dakota taking in the ludicrous flying pink elephant that we saw. The shot of the elephant turned out blurry.

Here's a shot of Kristo finishing up our best line of the day. The snow was excellent wet corn smeared on top of a nice hard base. It was delicious and creamy. This was Kristo's first ever day of ski touring, and his outfit was totally classic. I was psyched to have his great personality and lively jump turn as part of our team. Overall our day involved a lot of distance for not a ton of downhill, mostly due to some sightseeing, but afterwards it was great to be able to see out tracks glistening like golden trophies for all to see from I-70.

On a more serious note, I talked to my longtime friend Stefan Griebel on the phone this morning and it seems like he will be alright. This is him in the ICU after breaking three vertebrae in his neck in a ski fall at Mary Jane last Sunday. On the last run of the day he was mocking down a groomer and felt his ski "doing something weird." Posed with the split second decision of whether to try and save it or take the dive, he opted to go down, and doesn't remember anything until he was looking up at the sky with his sunglasses broken and blood on his face. He finished the run, but eventually checked into the clinic, feeling dizzy with blurry vision. Many hours later it was determined he had three fractures in his neck vertebrae. Luckily he is alright and was able to go back to work today. Anyway, working at the resort this season I have seen many grizzly wrecks and have seen more friends go down skiing. Just be careful, especially with the sticky snow. peace.

The Lightning Bolt Cracks

My friend Danny Uhlmann was here from Jackson this past weekend, and seeing as how he had never climbed in the desert before we decided to go climb a classic desert tower - the Lightning Bolt Cracks route on North Six Shooter Peak. This is a picture of Danny with his quintessential smile, pulling over the rim onto the summit. I met Danny this past summer in Bellingham, WA, where we were both guiding for the American Alpine Institute. Over the course of the summer we had countless time to hang out, whether it was playing cards in a tent while storm bound on Mt. Baker, or climbing granite cracks in Index. I have always enjoyed his enthusiasm and never ending supply of conversation topics. Danny has been killing it in the back country of the Tetons all winter, and despite many initial plans which fell through, Danny managed to make the
trip down with his friend Trish, who was taking an avalanche course in Eagle, Colorado. We spent three days in the Utah desert climbing area of Indian Creek, then came back to Rifle, met up with Trish, and enjoyed a great day of skiing. That's the next story, though.

On Friday we rallied to the Creek early and climbed a bunch of fantastic crack pitches. This was Danny's first experience with the uniform cracks of the area, and unfortunately his tape gloves did not hold up to the abuse he put them under. After one climb they were shredded, and by the end of the sixth pitch, Danny's hands were a mess of scraped off skin and oozing puss. Despite this Danny smiled on and we remained psyched for our climb the next day. Saturday we awoke and quickly departed for North Six Shooter, shown here. The approach involved scrambling up quite a large cone of talus to the base, but soon we found ourselves racking up at the bottom of the three pitch climb.

I led the first pitch, which was stellar and involved a hand crack to a flaring off-width finish, which Danny is seconding in this photo. With a few grunts Danny was through and off on the next pitch, a steep and hard finger and hand crack. This positioned us at the base of the tremendous last pitch. I led up into a bombay slot, a feature which requires chimneying with incredible air beneath your feet, as if above bombay doors in an airplane, and out to the lip of a roof, where a long reach around the apex revealed perfect hand jams up a crack in the vertical wall above. I can definitely say this was one of the more spectacular pitches I have climbed in a long while, but of course no pictures since Danny was busy belaying me.

As I sat on the summit and belayed Danny up the last pitch, I had plenty of time to enjoy the incredible vistas in every direction. An energetic wind scoured the tower. The feel of it on bare skin was not cold and bitter, but refreshing. The top of the tower rises way above the valley floor, and horizon to horizon, the sky is utterly expansive. How lucky to be in such a place - this is what I love about the desert, its huge desolation and the sense of exposure it instills in humans. This picture is of South Six Shooter Tower, which rises like a twin pinnacle across the emptiness.











On the summit we relaxed and contemplated these things and many more. Eventually the crispness of the wind chased us down the rappels and back to our camp, but the wonder of this adventure carried on in our spirits until, well, it still carries on...

Powder Skiing with Tyler Barret

Yesterday was without doubt the best day of powder skiing I have had all season, and at least part of that is due to the fact I was skiing with Tyler. I met Tyler at the beginning of the season when we auditioned for the ski school at Snowmass, and he has been my best skiing partner of the season.

Tyler is from Jersey via New Hampshire, and is simultaneously trying to become a professional musician and skier. He's pretty damn good at both. He will always tell you what's on his mind, most often loudly and rudely, tells really long stories, has to be dragged out of bed in the morning to ski(or work), rarely shaves, and is really fun to ski with. We have had some amazing powder days together, shared knowing looks while trying to teach unruly classes, and hucked some decent airs. If only he would get a hold of an AT setup.

Today was everything that the weathermen predicted - deep. Certainly the most snow that has fallen in a day all season, and the full parking lot at Highlands confirmed our fears that everyone else was taking a powder day also. It was so deep that I really couldn't be bothered to stop and take pictures, oh well. We never managed the Bowl like planned, but skied epic laps on the Temerity lift all morning waiting for the bombing to end. Eventually we decided to head to the lower mountain, where we found chute after chute of almost completely untracked powder. And ski it we did, until I literally couldn't stand on my feet. Man, I love skiing.