Category: Random Thoughts

Watching, waiting….

Posted by Brittany – October 23, 2010

Fall seems to be going by so slowly. I’ve been riding my bike religiously since mid-June. That’s four months on two wheels with only a couple of days of skiing in mid-June and July. I’ll be honest- I used to love the bike more than I do now. I don’t love it like I once did. Four months on two wheels is plenty and it’s time to move on. It’s time to ski!

We woke this morning up to our first real accumulation of snow on the ground here in Crested Butte. While it won’t stick around here in town, it will be contributing to our base up higher. I was happy to see the snow, but sad to see it melting away as I type this very blog.

I’ll go ahead and say it. I’m antsy. Full of anticipation. I’m tired of the bike. I did my 100-mile bike race and rode to Aspen and back- my two big goals for the summer. I even spent two weekends riding in Fruita, Grand Junction, and Moab. Now I’m ready to move on to bigger and better things. I’m ready for snow. If I can’t be downhill skiing I at least want to be cross-country skiing. I want to be doing something other than riding my bike.

I’m excited to say that skiing can and will happen soon. Loveland ski area will be opening tomorrow, two day’s after Maine’s Sunday River. (Wow, is the East Coast set up for another big winter?) While I won’t be at the Luv tomorrow, I’ll surely be there next weekend. And I’ll be all the happier to be on two planks instead of two wheels. Pray for snow!

Some shots from the Loveland web cam:
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Q & A With 2-Time CTR Winner Ethan Passant

Posted by Frank – September 14, 2010

The Colorado Trail Race (CTR) is an annual bike race from Denver to Durango along the Colorado Trail, covering 470 miles and and an amazing 65,000′ of elevation gain, with a high point of 13,200′. For the most part, the race is on singletrack, although there are a number of detours around Wilderness areas that are on dirt or paved roads. Course Map:

The rules are fairly simple, you can do anything that anyone else can do. You can mail yourself some things to a post office, and you can buy groceries or a room or anything else- but you can’t eat and sleep at a friend’s house since the other competitors don’t have the same option. You can treat it like a race and forgo sleep, or you can take it a bit more relaxed and sleep every night.

My friend and fellow Crested Butte resident Ethan Passant has completed all four CTR’s, and has won on two of those occasions, including this year. Part of me is masochistic enough to consider attempting this race one of these years, while the other part of me would really like to do the Colorado Trail in semi-luxury, with a support vehicle stocked with plenty of fresh clothing and most importantly, beer. Regardless, I thought I’d give Ethan a call and ask a few questions…

Let’s start off with the bike and gear list… What do you bring? My bike is a Specialized 29er hardtail. I bring all the standard stuff anyone would bring on a longer ride: 2 tubes, a multi-tool, a few chain links, lube and a rag, stuff like that, plus an extra shifter cable. I use a minimalist 3/4 length thermarest and a 35degree down sleeping bag. I carry an emergency foil bivy sack, although I never used it. I don’t want to be too comfortable sleeping, otherwise I’ll just sleep. For water I use a SteriPEN. I use a
Black Diamond Icon Headlamp for most of my lighting needs, plus a handlebar mounted light. It’s not the kind of lighting that lets you ride full speed, but it lets you keep moving. Top and bottom rain gear, a second pair of shorts that I put on halfway through (Last year I tried to go with one pair: saddlesores were an issue), plenty of chamois butter. I should have carried brake pads- I was lucky to find some in Leadville. A lot of the course is hike-a-bike but I still used Sidi’s, and I would again.

How did you carry all this gear? I used a really minimalist pack from CAMP. It has mesh pockets on the side and I was able to carry a lot of trail food there so I could keep riding on the easy terrain. My sleeping bag goes on the handlebars along with another small bag, while the thermarest goes on a seatpost rack. The tubes and a few other things go in a saddle bag.

What did all that weigh? The bike and all the gear was probably around 32lbs. My pack was probably another 15-20lbs when I rolled out of Buena Vista. [The longest stretch between towns is Buena Vista all the way to Silverton, so racers have to really stock up on food in Buena Vista]

How much money do you spend from start to finish? Well, besides all the specialized gear that I bought before the race, I’d say I spent about $300. I spent $87 at the City Market in Buena Vista alone.

The weather was pretty bad this year. What’s it like to keep riding through that? The margin of safety is pretty minimal when it’s like that. You get cold and wet and you need to just keep going or else you’ll just get really really cold. Having a big mechanical or crash when you’re on the edge like that would be disastrous.

What are some of the secrets of your success? I don’t even need a map anymore- that familiarity with route finding is huge. It’s tough to keep your concentration the whole time on what you’re doing- which is riding your bike. Crashing or breaking something when you’ve stopped paying attention can cost the race in a hurry.

What’s your favorite stretch of trail? Probably the stuff around Decker and Buffalo Creek- It’s really good trail that’s all bermed up and flowy, but it’s also near the start so you’re still pretty fresh. Molas Pass all the way to Durango is really good too, but I’m usually so tired by then I’m just trying to finish.

Worst? Sargeants Mesa. [Roughly between Marshall Pass and North Pass CO 114] It feels like you’re going nowhere fast. It’s all grapefruit and baseball sized rocks and you end up walking a lot.

Why do it? The personal challenge. It’s just you and the trail. I think that without the date written down on the calendar, I might not do it- it’s easy to procrastinate otherwise. With the race, you’ve got to just show up and do it. It’s nice to know that there are other people out there, too, so there’s some safety if you knock yourself out or something. Plus the hikers are fun to talk to- they’ll say things like “There are 2 guys ahead of you but you’re looking good, go get ‘em!”

Ever thought about doing the Colorado Trail like a normal person? Well, I took 3 months and hiked it years ago. Next year, I might do the race with Dawn [his wife]. You’re supposed to be solo, but I figure if neither of us are competing for the win, it’s not that big a deal.

That’s about it, anyone inspired to do this race next year? The more I think about, the more I realize what an incredible trail the CT is. I’ve ridden sections near Waterton canyon, Buffalo Creek, Kenosha Pass, Summit County, the Arkansas River valley, Monarch Pass, and a lot of the trail from the La Garita wilderness boundary all the way to Junction Creek in Durango, and the only section I don’t like is a few miles just North of Highway 50. It’s amazing how uniformly good the CT is. My favorite section is Cataract Ridge, though it’s kind of hard to choose. Anyone like a different section more?

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I would rather be ashes than dust

Posted by Brittany – August 13, 2010

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As many of you know, we have lost two beloved friends, Jack Hannan and Lacy Meadows, in ski-related accidents in the last few months. The loss of these friends has been difficult for all involved. Pain from this kind of loss never really goes away. You always miss them. Time can help dull the pain. But, the pain will always remain. Yesterday, the all the pain we’ve experience came flooding back along with joyous memories masked with streams of tears as we helped our friend Laura, Jack’s wife, scatter Jack’s ashes in the East River.

Laura guided us to a place along the East River that was a favorite spot of Jack’s. Quite hidden, we could all see why Jack liked it there. Surrounded by aspens, a beautiful waterfall, black rock contrasting with blue sky, a glimpse of Gothic, and clouds scattered overhead – it was one of Jack’s secret escapes to Paradise. And to Paradise he returned as we let his ashes sink into the River.

Laura plans to scatter Jack’s ashes in all of his favorite places. This way, Jack will be everywhere he wanted to be, everywhere he loved. She will keep his ashes in her pocket, and Jack will be with her all the time. It’s strange the power these little sparkles of gray can impose on our lives. But, they provide a bit of comfort too.

As we all gathered around the table last night for dinner, I had this intense feeling of happiness- a stark contrast to the abysmal remorse I felt only a couple of hours before. I realized I was surrounded by great friends and that we had all come together to celebrate life, not just to mourn the loss of it.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think of Jack or Lacy since their passing. The irony of it all was just how much the two were alike. Not only did skiing claim both of their lives, but both Jack and Lacy were some of the best people in this world. Kind, compassionate, and humble, Jack and Lacy made an impact on each and every person they met. People remembered meeting them, if only for a moment, even years later. No one ever had anything bad to say about Jack or Lacy because they simply were great people. This kind of person is rare, and I find it mind-blowing that we’ve lost two great people in just a few months. I’m still trying to comprehend all of this. But, the truth is, we will probably never really know why Jack and Lacy were chosen to leave this Earth far too early.

There is one lesson I can take from both Jack and Lacy – and that’s to live life everyday the best that you can. Have passion for life, and love all that surrounds you. That energy is what Lacy and Jack passed on to others, making them memorable in even the briefest interactions. With them gone, we must do our best to take their place in spreading this energy to the world.

I recently came across this Jack London quote: “I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.” This is how Jack and Lacy lived – they didn’t just exist, they lived. I plan on living too.

Monsoons and Weather Forecasts

Posted by Frank – August 9, 2010

Anyone trying to play in Colorado’s mountains in the last couple of weeks has probably been a bit frustrated by the weather. A shift in the flow to the south and southwest, carrying copious amounts of tropical moisture, has created a classic wet monsoonal weather pattern. In some cases, these heavy rains have even caused flooding and landslides, as seen here on the Durango-Silverton train route:

A recent internet discussion finally confirmed a few things for me which I had long wondered about. NWS weather forecasts mention a probability % of rain or snow on most days, but what does that mean? As it turns out, a 70% chance of rain means that if you had 10 nearby weather stations, 7 of them would record measurable precipitation, and 3 would not. It does not mean that there is a 70% chance of rain, and a 30% chance of no rain. Here is what Stan of the Pueblo NWS office had to say: Part of the confusion is due to (IMO) an unfortunate policy of the NWS to mix Probability with Spatial characteristics in defining what constitutes a POP. For example, usually in the first 12-24 hours, for thunderstorms, the 3% or 60% refers to a spatial distribution So, if there is a 30% chance of rain for the Sangres for example, that means that 30% of that total area will see measurable rain, the rest will stay dry. (In contrast, a probability forecast of 30% would suggest that 3 out of 10 times its going to rain over the whole area. Confusing, if you ask me. Regardless, either way there is a 30% chance if you are in that area of seeing rain. What bugs me is when I see statements to the effect of “Well, the forecast called for 30% chance of rain, but it poured all night, so the forecast was wrong” THAT is wrong. First off, that person is not looking at a map of rain gauges, or a radar image of accumulated precipitation, so he/she has no clue what percentage of the area got rainfall. Rainfall in rugged terrain is extremely variable, it can be pouring in one location but totally dry a mile away. Of course, the complainer never recalls the 7 out of 10 times that it was dry when the forecast was for 30%–he/she only recalls the time it poured. If, like me, you were forced to actually look at the hard data for verification, you would see that the forecast, over time, is statistically quite good, better than you might expect. In short, it’s not something to ignore.

Another interesting tidbit from Stan: As an experienced climber (not much of late due to a bad back) I am fully aware of how radically different weather conditions can be in the alpine zone. Weather forecasting is largely a matter of applying personal experience to scientific data, so someone with the personal experience of relying on forecasts for ventures above 12000 feet is going to have a better understanding of the rules that apply there. Since we (NWS) are a team of forecasters (10+ per office) and offices (4 in Colorado, numerous surrounding) the forecast is a collaborative effort and sometimes it goes the way of the “lowest common denominator”. In other words, if from ones personal experience one knows that the chance of it raining in the mountains is 80+ percent, unfortunately if the other forecasters don’t have that experience and think it will be lower, to maintain a consistent product sometimes the compromise results in a ‘watered’ down forecast (pun intended). That is probably why some of you in the thread i referenced note that POP (Probability Of Precipitation) forecasts are sometimes underdone for the summer monsoon season–the same is true during orographic (terrain-driven) snow events in the mountains. I can’t tell you how many times Ive been up at 10K+ feet in the Winter, and it’s dumping like mad, chains required, when the official (sometimes mine!) forecast calls for 20 percent chance of snow or some similar smallish number.

This quote confirmed some of my other observations as a keen weather observer (at least in the winter, when my mind constantly thinks SNOW!). It can be quite informative to look at two nearby forecasts, each forecast coming from a different office (i.e. Grand Junction, Pueblo, Boulder, as Colorado examples) Even if they are just a mile apart and similar in elevation and aspect, the forecast are often quite dissimilar. Sounds to me that different forecasts can easily be chalked up to differences of opinion in the forecast offices.

Hopefully that clears a few things up for people, as there is certainly a bit of confusion on the subject. Weather forecasts for the Crested Butte area can always be found on the right sidebar here on 14erskiers. The weather for the next week looks good, by the way, so get out there!

A Story For Lacy…

Posted by Frank – August 2, 2010

Last week, we once again lost a good friend to the mountains, this time Lacy Meadows. His passing brought back many memories of Jack Hannan’s tragic accident just a few months ago. In particular, I kept thinking of a day last spring when I had a chat with a bird while climbing Mount Wilson.

“A chat with a bird, you say? What a hippy!” Well, here’s the story. A raven was flying overhead, soaring along a nearby ridge, when he decided to land near me, just 15 feet away. I was reminded of the movie Steep, and the part when the late great Doug Coombs discusses seeing black birds in the Alps, and they represent his fallen friends who passed away in the mountains. So I kept climbing, and this bird started walking with me, always no more than 15 feet away. I was a bit ahead of Brittany at that time, so it was just me and this bird, walking up towards the pass. Well, I decided right than and there that that bird was Jack, so we had a little talk. It was reassuring to know that Jack was there with us on a difficult peak, showing us the way and leading us to the top of a difficult peak. I’m not spiritual by any means, but there was something about that bird and thinking about Jack that I won’t soon forget. I look forward to seeing Lacy soaring above me on a fine mountain day in the future, and having a little talk with him too.

Miss you Lacy

Changing Gears

Posted by Brittany – July 2, 2010

That’s right folks, it’s time for changing gears. I have lots of gears on my bike and I’ve been using them quite a lot lately. I took full advantage of the snow storm that dumped all kinds of goodness into the mountains in early June. But that snow has been melting at an alarming rate.

These photos were taken of our line on north Baldy, just a week after we skied it. The line is no longer skiable at the top, the middle, or the bottom (though 2 patches of snow still lie in the middle two thirds of the line).
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This photo was taken of Baldy, just a week and a half after I skied both the west (to the left of the peak) and SE (to the right of the peak). There is virtually no snow left on this aspect of Baldy.
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So, it’s official. I’m changing gears. The ski stuff is now put in the hard-to-reach dresser drawer, in exchange for the bike stuff. I mean, it is July after all :) And the riding as of late has been quite good and keeps getting better!

But, never fear- I have a few more ski turns in me still. I do plan on skiing hopefully once in July and August, until the snow hopefully begins to fall again in September. Though the ski gear is put away, it’s not impossible to reach. And I plan on using it a bit more this summer. Because when it’s summer, I’m always wishing it was winter again :)

Some Thoughts on Little Bear Peak and Private Property

Posted by Frank – June 23, 2010

In the wake of another fatal accident on Little Bear Peak, I’ve thought a lot about the current standard route on that peak: The Hourglass couloir. For skiers like Brittany and I, the Hourglass route is straightforward enough; just your standard Colorado couloir, somewhere in the 40-45 degree range, and actually pretty short at less than 1,000′. For summer climbers of the 14ers, Little Bear via the Hourglass may be the most dangerous 14er of them all, although Long’s Peak has been the most deadly by numbers alone. Once free of snow, the Hourglass route becomes a funnel for rockfall from the loose ledges above, and often forms a thin coat of verglas (ice) in the early morning. Having climbed Little Bear and all the other fourteeners in summer, Little Bear is probably the one peak that I would be quite concerned to climb again, mostly because of the danger other climbers would pose as they climbed above, possibly knocking rocks down on me.

Little Bear wasn’t always like this. Through the 60′s, the standard route was on the other side of the mountain from Blanca Basin through private property, and is mentioned in Gerry Roach’s guidebook as the easiest route. Unfortunately access through this area was dependent on one the Sangre’s many HUGE ranches for access, and once they decided to close off access, the Hourglass became the route of choice for peak baggers.

Private property is just that- private- and people are certainly free to choose what to do with their land. In today’s litigious society, many landowners choose to bar access from trails, climbing areas, skiing, etc out of fear from lawsuits when people are injured on their land. So I had a crazy thought after the most recent accident on Little Bear: What if the landowners in Blanca Basin were sued not because somebody was injured on their land, but injured elsewhere avoiding the privately closed safest route. Yeah, I know- it isn’t realistic and it would open a Pandora’s box of unintended consequences. But I do think the landowners who have chosen to close access to Blanca Basin should be ashamed and should feel guilty each and every time someone is killed or injured on the dangerous Hourglass route.

The Line

Posted by Frank – June 9, 2010

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.

Anyway, I’ll probably love the bike again in a couple of weeks. Thanks to The Line, though, I’ll always prefer skiing. Maybe I just need some new gear: Spring 2010 Gear Guide – The Best And Burliest New Mountain Bikes, Apparel & Accessories At HucknRoll.com. Valid While Supplies Last.

“Done skiing”?

Posted by Brittany – June 8, 2010

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 :)

Life and Death In The Mountains (We lost another one)

Posted by Frank – June 4, 2010

Today, like most days after work, I cracked a beer and checked out the latest on the internet. It didn’t take long to discover the sad news that the ski world had once again lost a member, this time Arne Backstrom. While I didn’t know Arne personally, I’m sure we competed in an IFSA contest or two over the years. The news of Arne’s passing came not much more than a week after hearing the news that former Crested Butte resident Scott Murray perished in a kiteboarding accident in San Francisco. I used to ski with Scott back in the late 90′s when he was in Crested Butte- he was an amazing telemarker as well as a talented kayaker from what I hear, but what I remember most was how happy he was to be doing the things he loved doing.

A lot of people who really loved the things they do and lived life to the fullest have left this world lately. Sometimes I feel like I went through a long stretch of dodging bullets in terms of not losing anyone I really knew to these sports, whether it’s ski mountaineering, kiteboarding, mountain biking, climbing, hang gliding, or something else. These sports can be dangerous, and it’s really no wonder I’m starting to develop a long list of friends and acquaintances that have passed away. For a long time everyone I knew was just out there having a good time, up until a few years ago, but now it seems as though at least a couple people I know pass away every year. So I’m going to take a minute and think about my friends: Tobias Lee, Scott Murray, Captain Jack Carey, Billy Poole, and especially Jack Hannan. Not a single day has gone by that I haven’t thought of Jack- miss you buddy.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s time to take a big step back and chill out, and quit doing the sports I love. But the thing is, I just wouldn’t be “me” anymore if I tried to tie myself to a desk and do nothing more dangerous than the commute to work. That doesn’t leave a lot of options- be happy and be who I am, or play it safe and live a life I might not be that happy with. I guess I’ll keep playing, and try to stay safe the best I can. And remember my buddies that aren’t with me anymore.