Snowboarding
The Endless Winter Super Post including the Video
We left Vermont in search of the season's last snow and returned with a revived appreciation of our country. We drove more miles in a week than anyone should ever take on. We violated the cardinal rule of travel by zooming through amazing park after amazing park without stopping to sop up the deliciousness. And yet we managed to discover so much and rallied a love that refuses to perish.
Final Stats: 6400 miles, 8 days, 3 days snowboarding on 3 separate mountain ranges, 15 states, way too many hours of driving, 3 nights camping, 2 nights sleeping in the car, one Orwell Memorial Day parade, and one couple that rediscovered their country and themselves.
VIDEO: Mission 1: Endless Winter
Original Video Post
ESSAY: A Road Trip of Rediscovery
A little farther down I80, we screamed out onto the Bonneville Salt Flats and were completely awestruck. The spectacle of pure, flat plains of white stretching out in all directions is something that has no equal in my memory bank. The phrase, "I wasn't expecting this at all" kept creeping into my head and I started to question my views on this trip and the country as a whole. Obviously, I have heard of the Bonneville Salt Flats. I am a slight fan of speed and absolutely loved the the movie, "The World's Fastest Indian". But like many of the amazing places in America, I have been complacent about its existence. Seeing it in the movies and knowing that it was in my backyard seemed adequate enough, I didn't need to seek it out for the in person experience. I was wrong, like most things of grandeur you need to see them first hand to fully appreciate the beauty and majesty. Jen didn't know it at the time and honestly I probably didn't either, but at this point we set out to see as much of America as possible while getting in a few days of snowboarding along the way.
Photo Posts
Head West Young Man (and Woman)
I smiled and laughed to myself, the trip had just started and we were already behind schedule. I was sitting on the orange line of Boston's T, heading out to Stoneham Ford to pick up the Fiesta. I laughed because the adventure was underway and there was no reason to stress. This is the journey. Photos only for now, text laters...
Snowbird Photo Post
We arrived in the Snowbird parking with a sense of accomplishment and relief. We left Vermont at 9 pm on Friday evening and showed up in Utah a mere 41 hours later. We were sort of rested from our car based slumber in Cheyenne and mostly clean from the fine water of Little America. Excitement quickly wiped away all other feelings, we were not just here to visit, we were here to snowboard in May. Epic.
Utah to Mammoth via Reno Photo Post
When we started dreaming up this trip, the primary driving force was snowboarding. We set out to ride as much terrain as possible in a relatively short clip of time. Somewhere along the line, the riding became a secondary player and the vast countryside of the America took the lead.
I stand here with my hand up, admitting my guilt to the world. For all my travel and supposed culture, I had become complacent and under appreciative of my homeland. This trip has ignited an interest and a desire for further exploration. More to come.
Mammoth Photo Post
After a long and spectacular day of driving from Reno to Mammoth, we were greeted with sleet/rain/horizontal wind at the ski area. It was 1 pm and like a true east coaster, I waited it out. Things looked better at 2, so away I went to get my 2 hours of fun in. Unfortunately the management of Mammoth had other plans and informed me that their hours had recently changed to 7:30-2pm. Skunked.
We returned today to gorgeous weather and prime spring snow. Sensationally sensational.
Mammoth to Zion via In N Out Burger Photo Post
With the adrenline still flowing from an epic day of riding at Mammoth, Jen and I saddled up the Fiesta and departed the pomp of Mammoth Lakes. The trip's focus had shifted from riding as much as possible to rediscovering the grandeur and beauty of our homeland. With this in mind, we charted a course for one of the most beautiful national parks in the country.
Zion Photos Only
I have been hearing tales of Zion National Park for many years now. It seems to be universally praised by the well traveled. Our original plan did not allow time or proximity to visit the park. However as we progressed across the land, our focus has shifted slightly. This opened up a window of opportunity to visit the famous spectacle of geological wonders. These are the photos minus text. Enjoy.
Zion to A-Basin
It took a bit of effort to pull away from Zion and concentrate on the long drive to Colorado. Both Jen and I were completely blown away by the scale and beauty of the landscape. There is little doubt that we will spend an extended stretch in southern Utah at some point.
We drove up old 89 to see a bit more of the countryside. It is amazing that you can start the day in amber colors of Utah and end in the snow of Colorado.
A-Basin
We went from 90F to 28F in a few hours. The temperature and the snow/rain drove us into a hotel for the evening in Frisco. The full night of rest did us well and we made it to A-Basin early in the morning. The difference in weather was as striking as the change in atmosphere from the other ski areas. It was nice to get away from the scene and get back to a more Vermont feel. Unfortunately the weather changed to match as well. Epic greybird with ample rain to greet the weary travelers. We trooped on and were rewarded with a parting in the clouds.
7YW.1 | The Tuckerman's Circus
As posted on www.FIESTAVUS.com
At some point in your life, you are bound to find yourself in a situation that makes you think, "If I make one wrong move, it is game over, done, gone, period."
On Saturday, well above New England, strapped into my snowboard on the edge of a 50 degree slope, with rocks and hecklers below, it was this thought that dominated my tired brain. I am not ashamed to say, I was scared.
This is Tuckerman Ravine.
The Drive
I stepped out my front door at 4:30 am, which is just plain too early for a Saturday. The air was heavy and hot, slamming me in the face as I fumbled around loading Fiestavus II with a bunch of random backcountry gear. Most of this junk was purchased on a whim during my "hiking" days and has spent some quality time hidden in the depths of my closet. I smiled knowing that for this day, at a minimum, it was cash well spent.
The heavy air from Bristol transformed into a complete downpour somewhere on my way to pick up my sister. This seemed all too typical of Mt Washington, dangle an epic day in front of your nose and then yank it away once you are underway. I cursed my rotten luck but kept rolling.
Like clockwork, it cleared up just long enough for my sister, Carrie, to stow her board away in the back of Fiestavus II. As she hopped into the rig, the skies opened up, another sucker stuck in the game. We waited a wee bit for Flynner before taking off with just two in tow and oodles of room for roadside souvenirs and some of those lawn ornaments only sold in northern New Hampshire.
By the time we met up with Price at a gas station in Glen, NH, the weather had shifted from yuck to YEEEAH (obviously said in a Lil' Jon voice), fully rewarding our perseverance. While Carrie and Price stumbled aimlessly, I was on a mission for a gas station breakfast sandwich. I told Carrie I was taking one for the team but truth be told I was aching for that taste you can only get from the heat lamps of our fueling refuges. In the parking lot, an older couple was admiring the Fiestavus, the lady exclaimed, "Oh such a nice color, ooohh and look at those lights, I just luv'em."
The Hike
As we crested the final climb on rt 16 before Pinkham, we were greeted by spill-over highway parking.
The circus wasn't just in town, it was up awfully damn early. We quickly readied ourselves about 64 miles from the area I typically park the car. Carrie quickly guaranteed a fine day by declaring that she had forgotten her hiking poles. It is a time honored tradition of Tuckerman's that you will always forget something essential. Should you break this rule, you will be guaranteed to slip on dog poo on the way up or worse.
Three steps into the hike I came to the realization that I am dreadfully out of shape. The kind of out of shape that really hurts when you have a board on your back and snowboard pants on in 80F heat. The kind of out of shape that makes you curse every step and find the faults in every piece of gear. You push on.
I have been hitting Tuck's regularly for 15 years now and I have never witnessed crowds of this scale and diversity. From the old school regulars that hike it every weekend to some random girl tramping up in moon boots, the full compliment of the circus was there. We were just a few more clowns piling in.
We made good enough time. When you hike with Price, it is more like running while listening to Animal from the Muppets. It is exhausting and hilarious all at once but made the 3.1 miles to the base of the bowl go by much quicker.
The hiking trails are shown in brown while ski trails are in yellow. Hojo's (Hermit Lake Shelter) is the little "H" near the top.
I don't care how many times you hike Tuckerman's or how many amazing sights you have witnessed the world over, it is still incredibly breathtaking when you round the final corner and get your first vision of the bowl. We powered straight through the chaos at Hojo's and rolled straight to the base of the bowl. Well, Carrie and Price powered through, I stopped to smell the...oh hell I stopped to hack up a lung, wheeze, and bs with every person I could trick into a conversation.
We knew that the circus was hot on our heels and we were dedicated to scoring a run before the big top was prime time. On the hike up to the lunch rocks, I asked a couple of ski patrolers how conditions were and where to ride. It was pretty clear that avalanche danger was moderate across all central zones and that the heat may lead to worsening conditions. We chose to hike up poseur's right and were looking to ride the "chute". When you participate in any outdoor activity, you need to draw the line on your appetite for risk. This line is defined by many factors and varies from person to person. We knew there was some risk but accepted it. The key is that we did not ignore it.
The Run
The hike up the headwall is intense, you are scaling a near shear face with gear on your back with a line of others pushing from behind and a crowd of hecklers below. Dangers abound, everything from falling ice and tumbling skiers to suddenly appearing crevasses opening up from the rush of water below. Right about the time that you reach the sketchiest part of the climb, your body starts revolting against the upward efforts. And inevitably this is where you lean a little too far back and get that unenviable feeling that you are going to fall. After that, you are glued to the wall.
I was about two thirds up the wall when a roar rose up from the crowd below. I looked to my left and watched as a large avalanche flew over the top of the icefall and rumbled to the base of the bowl. To my amazement, some idiotic sledder sat in the path of the avalanche despite the screams of many concerned others. The combination of feeling an avalanche rush by and then subsequently witnessing such moronic ignorance really put me on edge. I sprinted the rest of the climb.
We maneuvered our way across the top of the bowl searching for the best run down. One of the biggest issues with dropping into Tuckerman's is the steepness. The thing you can't appreciate until you are up there, is how difficult it is to spot anything below you. It is so steep that you look down and just see the base and nothing in between. Consequently, I typically end up traversing to the chute and firing that off. We were well on our way to the same result when I looked back and saw the lead into the center gully, one of the steepest sections of the bowl.
Note that the little specs of black are people at the bottom of the bowl, yes THAT steepI was still shaken from the earlier avalanche and made the decision to run the gully in one shot. I turned the webbie camera on, told Carrie and Price I was dropping, and popped into my first turn. When you stand up on the steep incline, it is very intimidating to link in the first turn, you feel like you are dropping off the world. Once the momentum takes over and your edge is locked in, it is all instincts. The frightening thing is that once you are going, there is no dumping speed, you are just cascading down a face. After a few turns, I was through the rough portion of the slope and was able to really lay some carves down and before I knew it I was on the bottom. A moment on the snow but a feeling that won't go away for months.
The Aftermath
I had just sat down to film Carrie and Price when a new round of cheers arose from the near 1000 spectators. I looked up just in time to see a skier rag dolling down the headwall. He finally came to rest in the debris of the previous avalanche with a leg that was not positioned the way a leg should be positioned. He reached up instinctively and yanked the broken appendage back into place. I have done that before.
Carrie and Price finally got a clear stretch of snow and started their descent. They both nailed some nice smooth lines and most importantly rode out safe. As they came to a rest beside me, a snowboarder went sailing off of a cliff, clipped a rock and tumbled down the wall. At this point, I was convinced that we were going to see someone die, something I really had no interest in witnessing. We shot to the bottom of the bowl and set up for some spectating.
Within minutes of sitting down, the entire section that we had just rode let loose in another avalanche. A rider had set it off and was caught in the middle, trying to stay afloat and not get buried. Thankfully, he was safe and walked away, but I was further convinced that it was time to get out of there.
Our motley crew made our way down until the snow ran out and hiked the rest of the way. I have seen some insane days on Tuckerman's but this was like nothing else. The combination of a near perfect run, gorgeous weather, a massive crowd and a frightening vibe made for an unforgettable experience and memory.
Video coming soon...
7YW.1 | Alyeska
Ahhhh.. Alaska. Where the oil flows like water and everywhere you look you see Russia....
Recently I have been lucky enough to spend some time in the great white north. I have been making the trek to Anchorage about once a month since November. Since I've started, every day has been about the same. The sun rises somewhere between 9 and 10 AM to a cloudy gray day and then sets between 4 and 5 leaving you wondering why you even got up in the first place. However, this last trip was different. Finally, the sun came out. The Chugach mountains, covered in snow, were set in beautiful contrast against a clear blue sky. Anchorage was balmy 30 degrees. A virtual tropical paradise. So I took the opportunity to embrace the Alaska winter and go play in the snow.
Saturday I woke up late, took my sweet time putting my bindings on right, and at 11:45 started the 30 mile drive down to Girdwood. If you ever have driven down Turnagain Arm, you know that the drive is absolutely stunning.
Mountains all around you. Ocean to the right... full of glacial silty chunks of ice that form mini ice canyons on the surface of the water. It's unlike anything I have ever seen. My day could have ended there. But it didn't. It got better.
Afternoon lift tickets start at 1:00 PM. I met up with my friend Dave and his step-son Devon and we got on the lift as soon as they would let us on. Made it to the top and rode all afternoon. No new snow, but what was there was softened by the sun. Alaska has a NO VEGAN policy so my forward lean was juiced. Dave was tricking out - you know... 720's and the like - and Devon was just ripping. It was a great day made better by the great company.
A few beers at the lodge and I was back in Anchorage getting rested up for day 2. I slept like a baby.
Sunday morning my friend Jim called me at 8:00 AM. I have been working with Jim for the past few months and in that time I have really gained a great appreciation for his communication style. Here is how the conversation went:
CFM: Hello
JSG: Carrie. This is Jim. Sandy and I are leaving at 9:00. Do you still want to go?
CFM: Yes
JSG: Ok. See you at our place at 9:00.
(click)
Perfect.
Dressed. Packed. On the road again by 8:45. At the mountain for first chair (which is at 10:00 AM because the sun rises so late). The morning was cold, but the sun came up over the mountains quickly and by 11:00 we were practically sunbathing.
Jim and his wife Sandy are skiers. And they are good. They pushed me way out of my comfort zone. We skied/rode hard for 5 hours. Steep bumpy trails all day.
By the end of my last run my legs were jelly. I went home content knowing that I had given the mountain everything I had.
The weekend ended with a coffee porter at the Moose's Tooth in Anchorage. I couldn't have asked for more.
I got my winter fix. Thank you Alaska.
