The hot weather this past week has had me glum. Yes, Crested Butte CAN have temperatures above 80-degrees- which, for us, who are used to temperatures in the 60’s and 70’s, 80+ degrees seems ridiculously hot. To keep from wilting away in the sun, like the flowers have on my deck, I’ve turned my thoughts back to skiing. Oh, how do I wish it would be snowing again.
I have never done a season in review post before. I never really felt the need. But, this season was full of story after story – from healing from last year’s ACL surgery, hosting several women to Crested Butte to my 14er project and other goals. To top it off, this season was my first season to top 100 fantastic days of skiing. I’ve been close to 100 before, but have never actually been able to top it in a season. This year was the year
I set out this season with some huge goals, most of which I was not able to fully accomplish. I was hoping to ski 120 days this year, but my knee and work prevented that from happening (although I will be fairly close!). I was also hoping to finish my 14ers this year, but was unable to finish my 9 remaining peaks. I was unable to hit Pyramid in good conditions, and then the line melted out as I sat around waiting for a week-long round of 50mph winds to settle. This left me with 2 14ers left to ski- Pyramid and Pikes, which I am saving for last. Though I didn’t accomplish all of my goals for the season, it was still a season to remember and I am happy with what I did accomplish. So, to honor and reflect upon the stories of this season, I’ve decided to do this season in review. By no means does this account for every ski day or every ski tour, but focuses on the highlights. I hope you enjoy.
Early Season
My season started off back in October, skiing at Loveland shortly after they opened. After not having been on snow since February due to tearing my ACL, I had anguished over actually getting on skis again. But, when I strapped those planks back on, I was ecstatic, despite being terrified of other skiers on the slope.
My knee didn’t feel right, so I took my time to get into the backcountry. The last thing I wanted to do was to re-injure my knee on some obstacle not fully covered with the early season conditions. But, skinning felt good on my knee, as I found when I began skinning at the resort in November.
December
December marked my first backcountry trip, to Redwell Basin off of Red Lady. I felt like a whole new person.
Kim and I have been talking about skiing on the 4th of July since our trip to Grizzly together. It wasn’t difficult to get her to make the trip up to Crested Butte from Boulder. I just had to promise her a little bit of biking and a little bit of skiing. I think she got what she came for
Frank decided to join us too. Our destination was the Wine Bottle couloirs off the north face of Treasury. We drove up to Paradise Divide, parked there, and set out on foot.
We followed the road toward Yule Pass. Kim and Frank.
But we eventually ascended up to the ridge, following that ridge to the summit of Treasury. Frank and I following the ridge.
Photo by Kim Ross
Admiring views of the valley below. Can you spot Mt. Crested Butte?
Frank with Treasury behind.
A view of potential lines for our way out.
Photo by Kim Ross
After three good ski days in the previous week, I wanted to squeeze in some more. Kim was hungry for some skiing also so we planned an outing together. After mulling it over for a bit, we decided to try for Sayres. Kim had skied La Plata on Tuesday and Sayres looked pretty good in her pics.
Photo by Kim Ross
So, to try Sayres we went. Kim and I were also joined by our friend Lacy.
Life gets hectic sometimes, and I haven’t been able to find the time to post up this TR from last week until now.
After skiing Baldy’s West and Southeast faces on Tuesday I wanted to go back for more. Somehow, along the way, I convinced Frank to come along as well. We decided to try to ski a chute on the north side of Baldy which we call Emerald Couloir, because it takes you right down to Emerald Lake at the bottom.
Gothic Road was blocked about a half mile or mile before Emerald Lake by some serious avalanche debris. We parked there and walked toward Emerald Lake.
When we arrived at Emerald Lake we took a look at our intended line, Emerald couloir.
Just looking at the picture, you can’t exactly tell the state that this line was is. But, it was full of avy debris and runnels, and looked really thin at the choke. So, we decided not to go for this line, and to go for another one that is still on the north side of Baldy, but is more east.
Sunday’s ski on Grizzly was so incredibly good I couldn’t help but go back for more. Sadly, I couldn’t get anyone to join me. It seems that everyone has given up on skiing. But, I haven’t I chose to head out to Mt. Baldy, hoping to ski something on the west side- easy to access and fairly mellow terrain- exactly what I was looking for, especially for this solo ski.
I headed up Washington Gulch Road and was able to make it nearly to the base of the SE face of Baldy, but I couldn’t make it all the way due to a snowdrift. So, I parked there, and began walking around 6:45 am. Baldy in the distance.
Grizzly Peak is Colorado’s highest thirteener, formerly thought to be a fourteener but demoted after new surveys made the mountain twelve feet short. I wonder how many hundreds or even thousands fewer ascents the peak sees due to those twelve feet. Regardless, Grizzly is known as a great climb in an area of the Sawatch range which is uncharacteristically rugged. Grizzly has been on my “to-do” list for years, but I hadn’t yet gotten the chance to give it a go. With a powerful late spring storm poised to drop a few inches or more over the weekend, we nearly decided to bag it but in the end decided it was worth a try. We were certainly glad we did…
Photo from Independence Pass, Memorial Day, 2006
Brittany and I were joined by Jarrett Luttrell and Kim Ross, and as we headed up Independence Pass from Aspen, we found ourselves in a blinding snowstorm of the Star Wars variety. At the campsite:
We awoke the following morning with a few inches of new snow, and some continued light snowfall. Needless to say, it was beautiful:
The hike up valley quickly broke out into meadows and we were able to enjoy the views of this area, which most of us hadn’t been to. Jarrett and I both commented that it felt like one of the first trips of the fall, rather than one of the last trips of the spring. It even smelled like fall. Kim, riding high on expectations:
The sun came out momentarily and gave us a great view of our objective. The actual peak is slightly behind, while the Grizzly couloir remains mostly out of view on the right, tucked up against the cliffs. Read More
Ice Mountain has been on my list for quite some time. After accomplishing my latest fourteener targets Memorial Day weekend, I set my sights on some other goals, and the Refrigerator couloir on Ice was one high on my list.
Photo courtesty of Jarrett Luttrell
It wasn’t hard to persuade Frank, Jarrett Luttrell, Ben Conners, and Matt Kamper to join. As is usual, we started out before dawn, around 4:30 am.
I’ve been catching a little bit of flack from my friends lately, wondering why I’m still skiing and not on my bike yet. The truth is that right now, riding a bike doesn’t seem that interesting to me. I’ve been trying to figure out why getting up at 3am to ski dirty sticky snow is somehow more appealing than riding a bike in the sunshine, and I think I’ve got it figured out. It’s all about The Line.
Hopefully some of you took the time to read and watch Brittany’s recent post about Reinhold Messner. In the video, Reinhold talks about seeing a line on a mountain, and then being able to make it a reality. What only exists in his imagination will be made into reality once he climbs the route. This works in the same way for skiing, whether it’s a gnarly route with rappels from one snow patch connecting to another or a big mellow bowl. A skier can look back and admire the tracks they’ve laid- big turns, little turns, a slash on a wind lip, a slarve turn on a spine- a skier’s tracks are their personal signature, their artwork.
Compare that to mountain biking, where the goal is simply to follow the trail. To be sure, there are always slight variations between riders’ lines on singletrack, but we’re talking about a difference of inches. The only person who invents a trail in their head and then makes it a reality is the trailbuilder- every subsequent rider is simply following someone else’s dream. Not only that, but most trails aren’t the result of just one person’s vision, but are more likely the result of a few people building a trail within the confines of land managers and all the other hoops one must go through to make a trail. In fact, most trails were probably just a deer or cow trail at one time, all us bikers are just following some dumb cow’s vision.
One of my more favorite videos to be circulating the Internet lately is this one, which I call “Done Skiing”.
The video portrays a comical conversation between a die-hard skier and guy who’s “done skiing” and will drive 20 miles to go ride his bike on 3-miles of muddy trail, and spend an hour cleaning his bike afterwards. Afterall, “corn is for cobs”. Frank and I, being an avid die-hard skiers ourselves, enjoy this video which mocks the people who are always looking forward to the next season.
I mean, think about it. There’s always those people out there. In August, they’re thinking about skiing. In April, they want to throw the skis away, and bring out the bike. But, what happened to enjoying what you have now? If it’s good weather for skiing, then ski! If the weather’s warm in November, stick with the bike! What’s the shame in that?
So, here I am, pondering these thoughts, and realizing that I’m being my own hypocrite. But instead of throwing the skis away for the bike in April, I want to cling to them. Take the skis away, and I feel like a child who lost her favorite blanket. I keep clinging to my skis, refusing to put them away in the closet for the season. I am in denial of the fact that it’s June, and that even the hard-core skiers have hung up their skis for the season. I’m an addict, after all, and skiing is my drug. I belong in rehab, really. Every week, I find myself hiking farther and farther on dry ground to go seek a few turns on the dirty spring snow that we call “snirt”. But, I don’t care. I’m not done skiing It doesn’t matter that the grass is green all around me. There’s still snow in them there peaks!
Photo by Matt Kamper
Maybe I’m trying to make up for lost time? I mean, my season did get cut in half last year by an ACL tear in February 2009. I missed my favorite time of year to ski- March, April, and May. Or maybe it’s that I love skiing more than I love doing anything else on this earth? Or, perhaps it’s the simple matter that I’m just too lazy to get back on the bike. My butt has barely touched a bike seat since November and I know it will kill after my first few long rides. Maybe it’s because the bike doesn’t inspire me like the skis do. Maybe it’s all of the above.
But, when does the skiing stop? If I could have it my way, I’d ski all year round, in a permanent winter/spring. Forget summer and fall. Who needs them anyways? I live for the fluffy white pow, or the round mushy corn. I’ll take either one really. I’ll even take that confidence-inspiring carvable styrafoam. Still, there always comes a point that I really do get “done with skiing”. In 2008, that point happened after skiing Snowmass. The snow was manky, and the hike out was miserable and long, carrying 60+ pounds on my back for 12 miles (including skis and boots), postholing through wet snow, and then still having to hop in the car and drive 3 hours home. I was tired of it. Tired of the hiking, the weight on my back, the postholing, and the driving. I nearly came to that point this past weekend, after our expedition on Ice Mountain (TR coming soon!)- where we lost the faint trail and bushwhacked through the forest for hours, crawling over fallen tree after fallen tree, postholing through hundreds of patches of slushy snow, and marching through bog after bog of mud and bacteria-filled marsh, and crossing flooding stream after gushing stream. My feet were so wet I thought I was going to get “trench-foot”. Still, I amazingly came out of the whole scenario with a smile on my face. I mean, after all, I’m lost without my skis So, I guess I’ll just keep on skiing… until I’m finally “done skiing”… and hopefully keep a few of you entertained along the way