SLC Samurai

ISMF European Championships

2012-02-06T22:08:00.000-07:00

Gemma Arro (living in Park City and adopted by Team Wasatch) and Mireia Miro take 2nd place in the teams competition.

Manfred Reichegger and Lorenzo Holzknecht (who were just racing in Crested Butte a few days ago) take first in the men's team competition.

This made me laugh

2012-01-31T22:02:00.002-07:00

North American Champs Individual

2012-01-30T08:50:00.000-07:00

North American Champs Sprint Comp

2012-01-28T22:34:00.001-07:00

Today was the first ever ISMF North American Champs sprint comp. I'm here in Crested Butte with a Wasatch contingent, Canadians, Americans, and Italy's A team.

Results went something like this

Women

Melanie Bernier CAN
Janelle Smiley USA
Sari Anderson USA
Gemma Arro Ribot ESP but adopted by Team Wasatch

Men

Manfred Reichegger IT
Reiner Thoni CAN
Lorenzo Holzknecht IT
Andrew McNabb CAN
Jan Koles SLOVAKIA
Travis Scheefer USA
Andrew Dorais USA
Marshall Thompson USA
Jared Inouye USA
Jon Brown USA

Other results from the Wasatch--Jason Dorais USA had a rough race and kept popping out of skis and finished 20th. Tom Goth and Luke Nelson (also had a rough race blowing two skins in 5 min) tied for 21. Chad Brack was 23. Nate Brown was 16.

The real race is tomorrow. Harness, via feratta, and ascender. Should be amusing. Luke and Jason will be on the warpath.

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Kids & The White Arts

2012-01-24T22:17:00.000-07:00

Here's some footage of family skiing during Thanksgiving and Christmas, shot with my point and shoot camera -- a bit shaky, but you get the point.

Wasatch Citizen Race "Results"

2012-01-20T10:25:00.003-07:00

Luke Nelson. 56 min
Bryan Wickenhauser
Pete Swenson
Andy Dorais
Tom Goth
Janelle Smiley
Courtney Phillips
Mark Smiley
Chad Brackelsberg
Layne Caldwell
Tim Holmberg
Luther Birdzell
Matt Hart
John Swain
Adam OKeefe
Nate Kartchner
David Morris
And about 15-20 others, but I had to go, sorry!

Wasatch Citizen Skimo Series

2012-01-13T16:44:00.000-07:00

Another race went down last night. More info here.

I was sick so I brought a proxy and a video camera. Enjoy!

Grand Targhee Skimo Classic

2012-01-08T12:55:00.001-07:00

Just finished the race. I'm now sitting in my car having hypothermia, shivering pretty hard, and trying not to cramp. But the shivers keep causing cramps. . . .

Race was fun. Jason Dorais took the top honors with Luke Nelson, Ben Parsons, Jared Inouye, Cary Smith, Chris Kroger, and Andy
Dorais in tow in that order.

It was a shorter course and more backcountryish than yesterday's nat course. The gaps were pretty tight and once again it was competitive.

I raced a pretty clean race until the last descent where I put on a class A junk show clinic, snapping my pole off the first drop in, hiking up to get it, then crashing again, and then tucking down the groomers holding bits and pieces of gear. Very fun though.

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Location:Alta Ski Hill Rd,Alta,United States

US Skimo Championships, done

2012-01-07T16:09:00.002-07:00

I fulfilled my goal of skiing the DH without stopping. Jackson had enough snow to make it a good race. No Corbetts though. There was a great turnout with over 90 participants from around the country. The fields were deep and the whole race was competitive. Make one little bobble, and you lose a place or two. The first climb was strung out several hundred yards with lots of fast people in skin suits and rando gear. It was an awesome sight. And the race saw a strong presence from the Wasatch this year--Tim, Layne C., Matt Hart, Chad Brack, Gemma, Tom, Nick Francis, the Dorais. Others? Good job to all.

More racing tomorrow at Targhee.

Women top 3

Sari Anderson
Stevie Kramer
Gemma ? from Spain

Men top 10

Luke Nelson 2:38
Scott Simmons
Jason DORAIS
Bryan Wickenhauser
Ben Parsons
Cary Smith
Pete Swenson
Jared Inouye
Jon Brown
Andy Dorais

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INVASIVE SURGERY

2012-01-05T10:03:00.001-07:00

Less than 48 hrs before race time. will it hold?

Skimo Race Calendar

2012-01-01T22:34:00.000-07:00

With or without snow, skimo season is here. The full race calendar is posted on the United States Ski Mountaineering Association website. Here are a few not-to-miss events:

1. U.S. Ski Mountaineering Championships in Jackson, WY. This race is on the list because it's a classic. It has been around for a long time and was one of the original Life Link series races (the series that got skimo started in the US). It is the U.S. championships, the field will be deep, you'll see a multitude of men in tights, and you're guaranteed to see the future 2012 champ. Also, historically, the course has been a real challenge, climbing nearly 6,000 vertical, which includes an ascent up an aluminum ladder up Corbett's couloir. Hopefully, that will be possible this year. I'm going to this race, hoping that I can ski the whole race without having to stop and rest on the DH. My mission will be accomplished if I could just do that. And if starting off the whole skimo season by racing a national championship race isn't enough, you can race at Targhee the next day.

2. 2012 ISMF North American Championships in Crested Butte, CO. This race is one of two new races in Colorado. This is a not-to-miss event because, well, it's not just the US Ski Mountaineering Champs, but it's the North American Skimo Champs. My guess is that the birth of this race was spawned by a desire to bridge the northern border and to include our Canadian friends, some of whom are quite fun, funny, and fast. Don't go to this race, hoping to race and dominate some Mexican, Arubian, Bahamian, Haitian, Trinidadian, or Puerto Rican skimo racer. In fact, I wonder if they even got the invite????? Hello? Are you there? All North Americans, please come! Because, after all, it is the North American Skimo Champs. I've heard that the course is going to climb to the top of Mt. Crested Butte, and that this climb will involve fixed ropes, via ferrata, and an ascender (just one). Because skimo is not already gear-intensive enough, by participating in this race you will have a reason to get even more gear.

3. Teva Mountain Games in Vail, CO. This is the second new race in Colorado. What's intriguing to me about this race is that there is an "Ultimate Mountain Challenge" competition that involves a 10k skate race, a traditional skimo race, and then an uphill drag race with your "traction" gear of choice. The person with the lowest cumulative time wins. The skimo race will likely comprise at least 50% of the cumulative time, which is a bonus for a skimo racer like me. I think I can get through the uphill drag race in either snowshoes or skis. The skate part worries me. I need a skating lesson. Adding to the allure of this race is the fact that there is a nice-sized purse. Here is a video promoting the race:

4. Power of Four in Aspen, CO. The attraction of this race is that it's big (almost 13k vert), long (27 miles), and brutal. And it's unique because it's a teams race. Oh, and it takes you on a beautiful backcountry glisse between four (hence the Power of Four) of Colorado's prime resorts, Snowmass, Buttermilk, Aspen Highlands, and Aspen. Here is an article reporting on last year's race; and here's my report on Brian Harder's and my race.

5. Wasatch Powder Keg in Brighton, UT. Like the US Champs, this race is a classic as well. It has changed venues over the years, but this is the only US race to have been on the World Cup circuit. A few years ago, the top skimo racers in the world visited and scorched through the Wasatch mountains. This year, the course will be big, climbing 6,500 vertical feet. Of course, I'm slightly biased, since I'm from the Wasatch. But for good reason: three of the events listed above are in Colorado. They look to be great events, and they are deserving of all our support. But hopefully in the future, Utah can be the host of some great events as well. To that end, take note that a Wasatch Citizen Skimo series has been launched with the first race being held on January 12, 2012 at Brighton. This isn't as organized or official as it sounds, but it will provide an opportunity for racing and growth in Utah. You can get information on this here.

Hope to see you out there!

Roberts Horn -- Alpine Style

2011-12-07T17:47:00.002-07:00

Photo from SummitPost.com

A couple days ago, Jason and I climbed the east face of Roberts Horn with skis on our back, and then hiked/skied off south face and out Primrose Cirque. Roberts Horn is located in the Southern Wasatch and accessed via Provo Canyon and Aspen Grove. This year's thin snow conditions have resulted in fairly decent ice conditions. We pitched out the waterfall staircase. After that, route finding on limestone slab and thin snow and ice tested our level of commitment. It took us 1.5 hrs to approach, 7.5 hrs to climb the face, and another 2.5 hrs to descend on skis. (Apologies to Brothers Sam and Aaron who put us on to this, but because they are responsible citizens, couldn't go.)

Jason Dorais approaching the base of the climb. That's about 4 pitches of fairly challenging (for us) ice climbing.

Old snow left from last year at the base of the climb. As winter progresses, the ice fall will mostly fill in. In fact, Ben Ditto and Matt Turley have skied the East Face of Roberts Horn in fat snow conditions.

Jason leading Pitch 1.

Me leading Pitch 2. The ice was super cold and hard, making screw placements really really frustrating. At the top of the bulge above, the ice gets thin. I pulled over the top scratching madly on bare rock. (Photo: Jason Dorais)

Jason on Pitch 3. This was a short but fun pitch. There isn't a picture of Pitch 4. I started leading it, but tapped out and handed the rack to Jason who sent it. After that, we had some debate about whether it is bad style to clip and hang on your tool to set a screw. I say, who cares?

Thin snow conditions were a concern. We were wary of triggering a hard slab. Or falling of rock slab. That wouldn't have been fun. After the fourth pitch, we simul-climbed, putting in half a screw where we could, and occasionally a pin. For the most part, the placements were anti-textbook, but we figured they would be better than nothing. And they gave us some level of comfort.

This is a picture of Jason topping out, finally. We didn't take the most direct route up the face, always looking for the path of least resistance. But that also created uncertainty as to whether we would eventually get dead ended. It wasn't until we topped out that we were sure that we would see the top. And when we did, it was 5:00 p.m. and getting dark fast.

Adding to the fun-ness of the day was our ski descent in the dark. We called Brother Sam twice for directions on how to get down. On top of that was the fact that my water froze solid around 9:00 a.m. and I went pretty much until 7:30 pm without taking a sip. If one criteria of alpine climbing is that at some point you wish you weren't there, then I can check that box off. But that is also the very reason alpine climbing is fun. Without the discomfort and challenge, that sense of accomplishment and the pleasure derived from climbing a mountain wouldn't be there. And that would be worse than not drinking anything all day.

Mt. Olympus West Slabs -- Alpine Style

2011-11-30T18:15:00.001-07:00

My infatuation with Mt. Olympus continues. It's such a unique mountain. It's basically right out my door. It is multi-faceted: West Slab, Memorial Couloirs, Apollo, Zeus, Great Chimney, the hiking trail, and more. There is lots of fun and experience to be had on that mountain. Monday, I ran up the southern side of it on a trail. Today, Sam and I scratched up the north face aka the "West Slabs" -- alpine style. As I think about it, this year I've traveled the slabs in at least three modes: sticky rubber, skis, and spikes.

Mt. Olympus North Face aka West Slabs

Sam ascending alpine style, November 2011

Me and Tom Diegel simul-soloing in weird clothes, June 2011

Sam skiing the West Slabs, March 2011

I have to say that although alpine style took the longest, it was well worth it. Jason Dorais and I made an alpine style attempt a few weeks ago, but the ice was thin and we were short on time. Today, as we approached, it looked like it would be more of the same. But once we got on the face, we found large ice smears. Some were fat, some were ok, others were pretty thin. But, linking up these smears, and delicately making our way up bare slab, we made our way to the top. I think we climbed 5 pitches on belay, and then simul-climbed the rest. 8 hrs round trip. Great outing.

This part was fun! Some real ice.

The valley below. This ice isn't visible from there. Today was a classic case of "don't know until you go."

Sam, climbing some slab and ice in spikes.

Sam topping out in the clouds.

Backcountry Ski Clothing Systems -- What works, and what doesn't?

2011-11-12T21:28:00.003-07:00

Me and the Dorais Bros after linking up lots of lines in Hogum -- the Hulk Hogum. I'm wearing a Patagonia Traverse
on top of a thin Smartwool top, Dynafit tights, and a harness.

From 2011-03-20

Over the years, I've put a fair amount of thought, effort, and $ into figuring out an optimal clothing system. It's a work in progress, but here are some thoughts on what works and what doesn't work, along with my favorite "pieces."

I ski mostly in the Wasatch range, which is not known for particularly harsh weather. We get a fair amount of snow, but we also have our fair share of nice clear days. Mid-winter, when it snows, the snow is relatively dry although on both ends of the season, it can be a bit soggy. Morning temperatures (when I do most of my stuff) range from 0 to 30 mid-winter, and in the transition season can range from 20 to 45.

What Works?

Since 90 percent of time spent in the backcountry is spent on the uptrack, it makes sense to dress for the uptrack -- to dress in a way that your body can breathe and not sweat too much. My objective in dressing is to put barely enough clothes on so that I don't freeze, but never so much that I overheat and sweat. I always layer, but the question is what should I use for each layer?

Baselayer: Typically, I will wear a thin base layer on the top. I want something skin tight, that will wick sweat away, and that will not bind on upper layers. My favorite thin base layers are made by Patagonia (Capilene) and Smartwool (women's models that popped up on Steep and Cheap). Depending on what I expect, I'll vary the piece. If it's not going to be too cold or windy, sometimes I will go short sleeve. But most of the time I'll go thin long sleeve. Occasionally, I'll go short sleeve and long sleeve. Sometimes, if I think I might have reason to take my mid layer off or if it's really cold, I will go heavier duty long sleeve (Capilene midweight zip top). I prefer zip-tops because they give me an additional ventilation option.

I choose my baselayer, thinking that I don't want it so warm that I have to remove my mid-layer. Occasionally, I'll remove my midlayer, but I prefer not to for a couple reasons: 1) it takes time, and 2) I don't like my avalanche beacon exposed.

On the bottom, my baselayer is always thin. Sometimes short, sometimes long, depending on whether I expect cold and wind.

Wearing a Smartwool baselayer, forced to remove my mid-layer (Marmot Driclime) in the sun.
A few hours later, I was wearing the Driclime, a Thermawrap, and a Nano Puff

Top Mid-Layer: I choose my mid-layer, thinking that this will often be my outer layer on the uptrack. And, as I mentioned, I choose it, hoping that I won't have to take it off on the uptrack. The most ideal characteristics for this layer are: (a) breathable, (b) light, (c) somewhat wind resistant. This layer cannot be too insulating, otherwise, I will sweat too much on the uptrack.

I have two favorite "mid-layer" pieces. The first is a Patagonia Traverse Pullover, made of a light stretch woven material. It is light, breathable, and wind resistant. It has a deep zipper that I can open for ventilation, if needed. I recently misplaced it in Andy's Black Hole (his Subaru) and went OCD until he guaranteed me that he had it in his possession. This piece keeps me relatively dry on top, but shuts out wind. This is important because, in the mountains, it is rarely dead calm. Any slight breeze has a tendency to chill your body if it is coated with a layer of perspiration.

My second favorite piece is a Marmot Driclime wind shirt. This piece is nylon on the outside and has a Driclime liner underneath. This liner provides some insulation and is a notch warmer than my Patagonia Traverse shirt. Still, it breathes well, and shuts the breezes out.

In addition to these pieces, I might add a very very thin nylon shell. My favorites are Patagonia's Houdini and Montbell's Tachyon jacket.

Montbell Tachyon and Dynafit Tights

From Uintas

If it's going to be cold, I'll take both layers because they are very light and hardly carry any sort of weight or space penalty. On a particularly cold day on Roger's Pass, I skinned 10k wearing some combination of these shirts/jackets.

Pants: Yes, here it comes . . . . I love to skin and ski in tights. I was a closet tight-wearer prior to 2009. But in 2009, I went to Europe and observed hundreds if not thousands of skiers rocking tights. Fat skiers, skinny skiers, rando racers, and non-rando racers -- many wore tights. These tights, weren't just any sort of tights, but they were tights designed specifically for skiing. Dynafit, Montura, and Crazy Idea make ski tights. Unfortunately, it's tough to find their offerings in North America. Tragedy. Travesty. Shame. America, embrace the tights!

The ski tights that I like are generally made of a thin stretch woven or lycra, and have sturdy material built in to the cuffs to protect against ski edges, boots and the like. A number of manufacturers make decent substitutes. Although these do not rise to the level of the tights (in sheer coolness and functionality), they suffice, and I often wear them. To name a few: Patagonia Simple Guide or Alpine Guide Pants, Marmot Scree or Cortina Pants, Stoic (Backcountry.com's brand) Microlith Pant. All of these are light stretch woven material, but aren't cut as tight as tights.

Outerlayers: Outerlayers come into play if the mid-layer isn't enough against the wind, cold, snow, ice, spit, whatever. Mostly, they come into play when you top out, and ski down. The first thing my partners and I do when we top out is drop our packs and pull out an outer layer. For me, usually this is an insulating layer with a wind/water resistant shell. My go-to outer piece is my Montbell Thermawrap jacket. It packs small, is very light, and for it's weight, is very warm. On top of that, because it is synthetic, it insulates even when wet. My Thermawrap has a great hood. Like my other layers, it fits trimly. This piece is usually sufficient to protect me on the top, and on the ski down. In nasty weather, it's wind/water resistant and breathable enough that I'll use it on the uptrack. One of the best pieces out there in my opinion.

Climbing up in the Thermawrap on a blustery cold day. Photo by Jason Dorais

Sometimes, a Thermawrap isn't enough. If it's not enough because it is too cold, then I layer another Thermawarp or a Patagonia Nano Puff jacket over or under. And if that's enough, I will put yet another of the same over that.

One of my favorite nuking-weather outerlayers for the uptrack is a Patagonia Essenshell. The material is silicon impregnated nylon. It is breathable and "hard" enough that it sheds precipitation. It is probably 10 years old, but I still like it a lot. My theory is that the more breathable my hardshell is, the more likely it will be that the heat from my body will dry my inner layers. My theory also is: I don't like skinning in a sauna.

If the above is not enough because it's full-on nuking, then (and only then) will I consider a hard shell (Gore tex, etc), and probably only for the downhill. Wearing a hard shell on the uptrack is like wearing a garbage bag. Unfortunately, even the best materials (Goretex Pro Shell for example) cannot let enough perspiration and vapor out on the uptrack, unless, of course, you go slow. If I'm forced to wear a hard shell, then I'm forced to go slow.

On the bottom, I have some cover pants that are a windproof softshell on the front (like Powershield), and a stretchy thicker lycra on the back. These are full zip pants that allow me to put them over my tights without removing my boots. I've found these to be quite useful, but unfortunately, I've not identified any company in the US that makes/distributes these. When I know I might have to sit or stand around, or when I might be out for the night, I carry Montbell Thermawrap pants. They pack small and are quite light. Again, being able to layer even on the bottom is important to properly regulate clothing needs.

I rarely rarely will ever subject myself to skinning in hard shell pants.

What Doesn't Work.

- Cotton baselayers, or anything cotton for that matter. Cotton does not wick well. It dries slowly, and it is heavy.

- Fleece baselayers or mid layers or outerlayers. For backcountry skiing, I don't like fleece because usually, it's either too warm or not windproof enough. On top of that, it does not compact well and is relatively heavier, compared to a synthetic insulation or down. The one exception might be a Patagonia R1, which is a very thin fleece, on a cold day or where I anticipate some slow going, e.g., ice or rock climbing. I'd use this as a base or mid layer.

- Hard shells. See above. Sometimes they are necessary, but I see way too many people rocking the latest and greatest flashiest Goretex in the backcountry. Not necessary. Not desirable.

- Most conventional "Softshells." I have had success with Schoeller and stretch woven materials, but I've found that these aren't as versatile. I used the original Cloudveil Serendipity jacket for a few years, but ultimately concluded it was a bit too warm and too heavy. I've never found a good use for Polartec Powershield because it doesn't breath as much as I need. And it's bulky and heavy in comparison to a thin, tightly-woven, stretch woven or nylon. I have two Powershield-type jackets that I've won in various races, but the only time I see myself using them is on a spring resort day or a cold climbing day (when breathability isn't as crucial). My preference is a simple, non-insulated, stretch woven soft shells, like the Patagonia Traverse, but it seems that in order to marketable, softshells need more bells and whistles. Simpler is better.

So, what works for you? Any ideas?

Hello Winter

2011-11-08T09:03:00.000-07:00

Andy's Video: Late October Teton Psych

2011-10-31T22:17:00.000-06:00

Andy made a video of our last Teton trip. It's been pretty popular at Teton Outerlocal. Here it is:

Late October Teton Psych from andy dorais on Vimeo.

October in the Tetons: West Hourglass and Middle Teton Glacier

2011-10-28T11:20:00.003-06:00

Late Wednesday night, Andy and I blasted up to Jackson for some skiing in the Tetons. On Thursday we met and skied with our friends Brian Harder ("Brain"), Nate Brown ("Dutchman"), and Kim ("Crusher"). The skiing was surprisingly good. It took some effort to get to it, but what we found made that effort worth it.We skied the West Hourglass Couloir on Nez Perce and then climbed and skied the Middle Teton Glacier. The headwall of the glacier was the real treat. There we found soft consolidated powder stuck to a 50 degree slope. From the parking lot we had wondered if winter was up there. As Nate promised, after awhile the "Winter Switch" turned on.

Quick Notes:
- It was cold. Probably below zero cold. To stay warm on Nez Perce, I robbed everyone of their packs, sat on one, put the others on top of me, mooched Nate's puffy, and (to no avail) tried to get people to cuddle with me.
- There were 4 Men in Tights, one Woman in Baggie pants
- Kim impressed us all by by logging the same 8k vertical we logged, but on "heavy" gear, Havocs and Divas, thus becoming "Crusher."
- Upper East Hourglass was not skiable, but the lower part definitely was.
- No. of times Andy got pulled over by the law, 2; no. of tickets, 0
- Another great day on 64 mm waisted skis.
- 8k vert, 10 hr tour. 30 hrs door-to-door (SLC to Jackson to SLC).

West Hourglass (angling upper right to lower left). Photo taken Feb. 2011.

Middle Teton Glacier and the "Notch" (distinct "V") in top third, left edge of right third) in the background.
Photo taken Feb. 2011.

Hiking into Garnet Canyon

View of the Middle Teton and the Chouinard and Ellingwood Couloirs from Nez Perce.
The Middle Teton Glacier tops out at the top of the Ellingwood.

Andy and Nate in the cold cold shadow with El Grande and the Middle in the background.

Middle Teton Glacier and the shrund.

Andy and Nate about to gain the "Notch."

Soft snow, steep slope, October.

Andy and Nate with the Dike Pinnacle in the background.

Nate skiing the Middle Teton Glacier.

Brain skiing the Middle Teton glacier.

Brian and Kim descending above the shrund.

Day 1

2011-10-07T12:27:00.002-06:00

Jason Dorais about to ski the clicketty clack.

Glad to get that out of the way!

Grand Canyon R2R2R

2011-10-05T17:56:00.000-06:00

Sometimes, I go out and have a nearly perfect day. The weather is good, the body is good, and the head is good. Nature seems to be good to me. Things click. And when I return, I want more. I want to go replicate it, again. But sometimes, I go out and have a really crappy day. I find misery. I hate that I am in nature. And I want nothing more than to never go out again. And when I return, a cloud hangs over me, and I want another chance. I want to be better. It's a vicious cycle.

October 3, 2011, 7:04 a.m.

My sleeping bag is crumpled up in the back of my Subaru. I crawled out of it a few minutes ago. I'm nibbling on a leftover Subway sandwich from last night. Jason is soaking a ProBar in peanut butter. We intended to have bagels, but we don't. It's 38 degrees. We strip off our jackets, slam the Subaru's doors closed, and start running off the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.

Jason Dorais descending off the North Rim.

Me off the North Rim. Photo by J. Dorais

October 3, 2011, 9:35 a.m.

We've covered 13.7 miles and descended over 5,500 feet in about 2.5 hours. Except for two rolled ankles--one mine and the other Jason's--we're feeling relatively good, not as fresh as we'd hoped, but good. We're more or less on pace. We want to run Rim to Rim to Rim, 42ish miles, and 10,800 vertical in under 10 hours. We're at Phantom Ranch, less than a mile from the Colorado River, and will be heading up the South Kaibab Trail to the South Rim, ascending 5,300 vertical feet 7.2 miles. If we want to stay on pace, we'll need to be at the top of the South Rim in 1 hr and 50 minutes.

Jason ascending the South Kaibab Trail

Me ascending South Kaibab. Photo by J. Dorais.

October 3, 2011, 11:25 a.m.

It took us 1 hr and 51 minutes to ascend the South Kaibab trail from Phantom Ranch. And it wasn't easy. Perhaps we were driven too much by theory and not reality. I felt a surge of adrenalin in the last 1/2 mile or so and we ran hard to the top, arriving breathless. Although water was available at the South Rim, I only splashed it on my head, and didn't put any into my hydration pack. I thought I had enough to get me to Phantom Ranch. I didn't want to carry extra weight. I was mistaken.

Me walking behind the behinds of a mule train. "Please don't kick me." Photo by J. Dorais.

October 3, 2011, 12:23 p.m.

We just ran the 27th mile in 9 minutes 30 seconds. The Colorado River is below us and we'll be crossing it soon. It's hot. I'm hot. I'm out of water. I haven't eaten much of anything for an hour. I notice that I have goosebumps. I'm hot, but I'm chilled. I'm nauseous and I can't eat. Uh oh. Not to worry though, we'll be to Phantom Ranch soon.

October 3, 2011, 12:45 p.m.

I'm lying face first in a tributary of the Colorado River. My feet are propped up on a flat rock, but everything from my ankles up, head included, is under water. Water trickles into my ear, but I don't want to lift my head out of the cool water. I

October 3, 2011, 1:00 p.m.

We're satisfied that we clicked off 29ish miles in under 6 hours. We've got 13 more to go, mostly uphill. Phantom Ranch lemonade tastes good. My goosebumps are gone and I'm not as nauseous, but I feel like, well, I just ran 29 hard miles. I firmly believe that my condition will turn around from here out. It's not unlike anything I've experienced before. I'll pull out of it. Just need to get on top of my eating and drinking. My legs will come around.

October 3, 2011, 2:00 p.m.

Self assessment: no power in legs and nauseous. I need to eat to have power. But eating makes me want to throw up. I've tried several times, heaving without much success. A little bit, but not much. I run a few steps, and then am relegated to walking. I really ought to eat. But I can't. It's as if there is an impermeable barrier between my stomach and my legs. They aren't working together. So I settle with walking. I don't like going this slow. I look at my watch. I'm doing a 16 minute pace when I ought to be doing a 11 minute pace. Jason is probably bored. We're not going to make our goals, and it will be my fault. He tries to feed me a gel, but I reject it. I need to speed up. But I can't, because I have no power. Because I can't eat. Faster. Eat. Heave. I am miserable, trapped in an odd paradox. This sucks. I encourage Jason to go on without me.

October 3, 2011, 2:30 p.m.

Jason is running away from me now. I hope he goes under 10 hrs. He's looking good. He will.

October 3, 2011, 3:30 p.m.

There is one hope. I have a secret weapon: Coca Cola. I stashed a 20 oz bottle six miles off the North Rim. This should turn my legs around. Carbonation, sugar, caffeine. Eagerly, I un-stash my stash, open it, and drink. Immediately I feel better. I up the pace. A few minutes later, I am successful where I have failed so many times on this adventure: I bend over and vomit. The color of the spew is alarming. It's blackish. But then I let myself taste it a little bit. And it tastes like Coke. I'm back to my painfully frustrating and slow 25 minute pace. My secret weapon failed. I've got nothing.

October 3, 2011, 4:45 p.m.

I'm resigned now. That internal fire, the incessant motivation to go fast and conquer, is gone. I just want to get back to the car and be done. And I want to throw up. I look around and am stunned by the view. There is a mist above the rim; water trickles off the walls above me; thunderheads move with curious speed across the canyon. I start reciting ancient time periods I learned in 7th grade: precambrian, paleozoic, cenozoic, cambrian, ordovician, silurian, devonian. . . .

October 3, 2011, 5:15 p.m.

As I begin to see where I am, I forget where I want to be. I start to eat almonds, slowly, one at a time.

October 3, 2011, 5:45 p.m.

My body seems to have accepted the almonds. Jason, who finished an hour ago, has walked down to join me. I look at my watch and 10 hrs and 50 minutes have elapsed. I'm not going to take more than 11 hrs. The fire is back. It's late, way too late actually, but it's back. I start running. I run into the North Rim parking lot and stop my watch: 10:57:22.

October 3, 2011, 7:00 p.m.

I just threw up a bit, but I'm holding it in my mouth. I roll down the car window, spit, and it spatters on the car, inside and out.

October 4, 2011, 12:00 a.m.

Me: I don't feel a need to go back there. Do you?

Jason: No. I'm not going back.

Me: Me neither.

October 4, 2011, 6:00 p.m.

Me: I want a rematch.

Jason: With me? Or the Grand Canyon?

Me: The Grand Canyon.

It's a vicious cycle.

Storm Mountain and Lone Peak Adventures

2011-09-21T15:46:00.000-06:00

The last couple weekends, I've enjoyed getting out with some climbers. Generally, the steeper you go, the slower you go. Hoping to avoid long drawn out boring ordeals, i.e. belaying, Sam and I scrambled up the NW face of Storm Mountain carrying a 30 m rope and a few select pieces of gear. A week later, Jason Dorais power hiked up to Lone Peak Cirque, climbed the Central Thumb, and then ran back down. Working some aerobic effort into the equation made the belay time worth it.

This pic was taken in May 2011. In that month, I tried three times, unsuccessfully to get up some unconventional routes. Sam and I went up one of these unconventional routes without much of a hitch.

Sam about to scramble up some Class A choss.

Stairs is terrifying in the winter. And mildly mysterious in the summer. Cool slabs.

Lower Stairs

Jason Dorais looking up at the first snows of 2011-12.

And pointing at our destination: the Central Thumb

Jason leading up to the crux.

The final pitch involves a slight downclimb and a funky (scary for me) traverse.

After climbing through iffy weather, it cleared up. Took this on our way down. From here, we basically ran. And for future reference, it took us 1/2 hr to descend from the summit to the cirque (scramble and 2 raps); and then from the cirque to the Ghost Falls TH in about 1 hr 30 min.

Lone Peak--Several Times, According to my GPS

2011-09-19T17:43:00.002-06:00

My GPS tracks wherever I go. And it provides an accurate account of what I've done. Which is why it must be true that I climbed nearly every route (established and heretofore not established) on Lone Peak's summits, yes both of them, in about 4 hours. Here are my data points to prove it:

All the points I hit on Lone Peak in the span of about 4 hours.

And in case you want to verify:

I'm trading up for a Snoopy watch.

This essay challenged me. Very true, I think.

2011-09-14T14:03:00.002-06:00

"The irony I cannot get away from is this: the energy and passion that call to our very core fill us with a life force that seems endless, but yet they also create a form of blindness to the ultimate reality we so dearly feel we touch."

Kayaking - Adding Death into the Equation

Kid CX Practice

2011-09-11T15:20:00.000-06:00

It feels like CX season. So, my kids have been practicing their mounts. My 2 yr old, Hiro aka "Buster," pretty much has it nailed (slight bobble on the second mount).

Mount Whitney: The Double

2011-09-06T15:18:00.001-06:00

I'm fortunate enough to work with a few guys who like an adventure every now and again. In the past, we've done bike rides, marathons, Rim to Rim. Last week, our group set out to hike Mt. Whitney. Whitney is the tallest peak in the lower 48, and because of its popularity, to be in its vicinity requires winning a lottery and securing a backcountry permit. So, in the span of 56 hours, we flew to Vegas, drove to Lone Pine, CA, climbed Whitney, and then reversed the same.

Round 1: The Mountaineer's Route

My work group wanted a challenge beyond the more conventional Whitney Portal Trail, so we chose the Mountaineer's route, a route that ascends about 6,000 vertical in 6.5 miles. Much of the route is a Class 2 and 3 scramble. To those who are somewhat close to me, you should know that I was appointed the mountain guide for the day. That is because I am a mountain guide, just one that gets lost every now and again and lacks the certain inconsequential paper credentials. I committed that I would get the group to the top; after that, I had a plan of my own.

En route, we had a few odd diversions. While crossing over a ledge section in the early morning light, Barry broke into song:

The shenanigans diminished as we climbed higher and as the scenery became more serious. And soon, we were on the Mountaineer's Route. Most of the guys in the group didn't have a whole lot of climbing experience, but they persisted and at around 1 pm (and about 6.5 hrs of hiking), we stood on the top of Mt. Whitney.

The Mountaineer's Route goes up the saddle, and then to the top of the peak in the shadowed area.
The lake (Icerberg Lake) was frozen on the top!

Josh, Barry, Jeremy, Nate, Sam and Joe (Barry's two sons) on the saddle, about to go up this:

Ice!

Round 2: The Whitney Portal Trail

At the top of Mt. Whitney the first time, I parted ways with my group and went back down the Mountaineer's Route. The rest of my group descended the 11 mile Whitney Portal Trail. Running down the steep Mountaineer's Route was a bit tedious and somewhat strenuous. I was back at the car about 1:45 after I left the top of Whitney.

At the car, I reloaded my pack with food, drink, and a headlamp. I left behind all the extra stuff, like my camera and jacket, which I later regretted. And then I headed back up the Whitney Portal Trail. It was 4:00 pm in the afternoon. At 8000 feet, it wasn't too hot, but slightly uncomfortable. I had been on my feet for almost 9 hours, and they had traveled 13 miles and 6000+ vertical over some pretty rugged terrain. I had a solid 22 miles and 6000+ vertical ahead of me. And Whitney looked like it was really really far away. And I almost became discouraged. I kind of wanted to just call it a day.

But then I took a sip of the warm Coke that I was holding. And I reasoned to myself that flying and driving 100s of miles and getting a permit to do 13 miles simply didn't make sense. And so I started jogging. I stopped thinking of where I wanted to go, and just focused on where I happened to be. Then I turned on my Ipod and was greeted by none other than Jon Bon Jovi. And from "Bad Medicine" on, everything made sense. All sense of tiredness, discouragement, and the cold I'd been nursing seemed to rest. And I ran.

As I ran, I watched my Garmin report a set of 15 minute miles, then a set of 20 minute miles, and then as I climbed above 12k, I had to walk, especially up the 99 or so switchbacks (that's not an exaggeration). At the top of the switchbacks, where the High Sierra and the John Muir Trails become one, a sign informed me that I had just entered Sequoia National Park. I wondered what it would be like to run or ski all or part of either of these trails, and was stopped short in my tracks as the Sierras -- all the way to Yosemite -- came into view. But, alas, no camera.

At this point, the euphoria of Coke, Bon Jovi, and Zen thinking began to wear off. It nearly completely dissipated as the summit of Whitney appeared waay waaay out there. Luckily, the 14k 2+ mile traverse to the summit is probably one of the most scenic in the US, and so it went relatively quickly.

About 3.5 hrs after I began Round 2, I stood on top of Mt. Whitney for the second time of the day. I hung out for a few minutes, talking with some French climbers who were spending the night at the summit. They had done a bit of rando racing in Europe and told me about some of their trail races. Of course, they mentioned the UTMB, something they obviously took pride in.

The 14k traverse was better in reverse. It was downhill and very runnable. And I happened to be running it just as the sun was setting, in the alpenglow. On the right, several thousand feet below me was a valley dotted with high alpine lakes, and beyond that was Sequoia and Yosemite. To left was a very steep granite face, huge spires and an occasional steep couloir; at the bottom was a glacial lake, and the lights of several backpackers.

Concerned that the temperature was dropping and that I wasn't carrying a jacket, I stopped to pick up someone's dropped glove. With a bit of trepidation, I sniffed it to make sure that was just a dropped glove, and hadn't been used for some other purpose. It didn't have that smell, but it smelled heavily of some deodorizer or fabric softener, which reminded me of the deodorizer used in Honey Buckets, and which, in turn, caused me to quickly drop it and risk 2 cold hands on the descent instead of just 1.

As I descended the 99 switchbacks, it got darker and darker, and then black. By then, my Ipod was pushing out some mellow baroque chorale pieces, but I shut it off and turned my head torch on so that I wouldn't run off a cliff. The darkness was a hindrance in descending, and I found that my downhill mile splits were about the same as my uphill mile splits. But other than that, I was in a good place mentally and physically. I was pleasantly surprised that it was about 10:00 p.m., I had been going all day, and that I was still running in the mountains with relative ease.

It was about that time that I encountered a backpacker, carrying a big backpack and an ice axe. When I approached he said,

"Man, am I glad to see you! I was seriously worried about you when I saw you coming up the switchbacks so late in the day. I had flashes in my mind about seeing a newspaper article about a dead Japanese tourist on Whitney, wearing just a t-shirt."

I laughed and apologized for causing him to worry.

"How far did you get?" he asked.

"Oh, I went to the top."

"I'm astounded. Really, I am."

And I suppose I should have let our conversation end there. But I didn't. The braggadocio in me spilled over, and I said, "And that was my second time."

"In your life, he asked?"

"Nope, today." He was very complimentary, and that felt good. We went on to talk about his trip and where he was from. And then I continued on.

The last 3 miles of the Whitney Portal Trail are pretty cruiser, even in the dark. After a small detour where I ran to Lone Pine lake and stumbled into some sleeping backpackers who pointed me in the right direction, I was able to open it up. My Garmin showed a 13 minute mile, then a 12 minute mile, then a 10 minute mile. And then, after 35 miles, nearly 13k vertical, and 16 hours on my feet, I was back at the Whitney Portal Trailhead.

Running Heart Mountain

2011-08-22T23:01:00.003-06:00

View of Heart Mountain from Japanese Internment Camp

Last week, my family and I made a pilgrimage of sorts to Heart Mountain, Wyoming. Heart Mountain is near Cody, Wyoming. It was beneath Heart Mountain that my grandparents on my dad's side spent some years in a prison camp aka internment camp because they happened to be of Japanese descent and living near (meaning within several hundred miles of) the West Coast when Pearl Harbor was bombed. As a child, I visited Cody, Wyoming and got a sense of where Heart Mountain was. This time, I took my children to Heart Mountain, and I developed a much keener sense of what Heart Mountain was.

Exhibit at the new Heart Mountain
Interpretive Learning Center

The reason my family chose this time to visit Heart Mountain is because of the opening of the Heart Mountain Interpretive Learning Center. We attended the dedication of this memorial and heard from the likes of Tom Brokaw, Senator Daniel Inouye, Congressman Norman Mineta, and Senator Alan Simpson. Among other things, these men commended the internees of Heart Mountain for their response to the injustice done to them by their fellow citizens and their own government. They encouraged those present to see that such an injustice never occur, again.

I was heartened to hear the speeches given by these men, but nothing had more of an impact on me than just being there. Although Cody, Wyoming is one of the gates to Yellowstone, in August, it is sun scorched and burnt yellow. It's desolate. I've heard it's that way in the winter too, just whiter and colder. I imagined what it would have been like to be herded onto a train, and then after a 3 day ride with the shades drawn, walk out onto the platform to see Heart Mountain. I imagined what it would have been like to be fenced in with Heart Mountain looming in the distance. I imagined what it would have been like to live in a tar papered barrack with my small children during the fierce Wyoming winter.

I doubt my grandfather or grandmother ever climbed Heart Mountain. While they were interned, I'm sure they had other things weighing on their mind, like whether a Stanford degree would ever be useful in their world, what might they would do if they were ever released, or whether they really were second-rate citizens. And on top of that, there were the barbed wire fence and machine gun towers. I suppose those would have impeded a run to Heart Mountain.

So it was with a sense of gratitude that I ran up to the top of Heart Mountain. Yet, I suppose there was also a sense of confusion. Why is it that I am able to run free, but others cannot? And at the same time, I was saddened; sad because my grandfather was unable to express the kind of freedom I feel running, unimpeded to the top of a mountain.

I will never know endurance and suffering like my grandparents knew it. But I know that without it, I will not be complete.

L to R: me, White Brother Mark, Brother Aaron, Uncle Roman, White Brother Danny
Because of a jam-packed day, our only opportunity to run Heart Mountain did not come until it was dark.

Speedgoat Here I Come!

2011-07-29T21:51:00.000-06:00

Pioneer Day Pentapitch

2011-07-25T15:53:00.003-06:00

In Utah, July 24th is a state holiday, celebrating the day when the Mormon pioneers arrived at the Salt Lake valley and Brigham Young proclaimed, "This is the place!" Granite was important to the early settlers, and the LDS church still owns a mountain of granite in Little Cottonwood Canyon. Granite is important in modern times for a variety of other reasons . . .

Today, Brother Sam, Anne, and Cousin Isaac celebrated the 24th of July and the discovery of the Wasatch by climbing some granite in Little Cottonwood Canyon -- Pentapitch.

Top of Pentapitch. Anne aka Sweetie, Isaac, Sam aka Sweetie
(Sam and Anne are partners in climbing and in life and refer to one another as "Sweetie")

Go Sweetie(s)! Anne at the top of the Pentapitch. Sam is on the crux of the route and led it with ease, but only after I shouted, "Go Sweetie. You've got it Sweetie. I love you Sweetie." He apparently responds well to that. Me? I plugged a cam in a finger crack, and pulled on it

Sam belaying Isaac and Anne. Isaac wore that grin the whole of the last pitch. "Isaac, did you pull on my cam?" "No." "Oh."

The rap out. Two pitches.

Transition: Ski to Run

2011-07-19T11:46:00.000-06:00

Since July 1st, I've tried to be a runner. Several months ago, I signed up for the Speedgoat 50k, which occurs on July 30th. At the end of last year's Speedgoat I vowed that I would be back and better. By July 1st of this year, not having really focused on running yet, but motivated to keep my promise to myself (at least to run Speedgoat again; have some major doubts about being better though), I began a mini training cycle.

Between April and July, I have done a few runs and hikes and one marathon. On top of that, I have done several longish days (7-8 hrs) in the mountains, probably every 10 days or so, mostly in ski boots. Fitness-wise, that has given me a base. And I'm encouraged that my body is acclimated to those longish efforts. But what about running-wise?

Since July 1, 2011, my training is summarized as follows:

10 runs

95 miles (mostly in the mountains on technical trails)

26,000 vertical gain

That small block of training has been fruitful. By Saturday (7/16), I was toast. On that day, Andy Dorais, Tanner and I ran from Wasatch Blvd. to the Canyons resort, which ended up being just shy of 23 miles and 7500 vertical. We started off with Grandeur (3k vert in 2 miles), went off the other side, hit the Pipeline, ran up the Millcreek Freeway to Big Water, up the Great Western trail to the divide, and down to Canyons resort. On the ups, I had nothing. That was due in part to the 15 miles I did the day before. I could barely hike, and Andy and Tanner had to wait for me. But I was encouraged to know that I'd get some good over-distance and over-compensation as a result, so I plugged along. Surprisingly, the downhills felt ok, and my feet (which have been a limiting factor since I started running last year) felt relatively good.

From now until Speedgoat, I'll continue my training. I won't do a full taper because I really haven't done a full build. And I think I'm resigned to the fact that Speedgoat will just be a training event for things to come later in the year. Still, I'm looking forward to it. And I'm looking forward to employing a pacing strategy.

Question for experienced ultra runners or endurance specialists: In a 50k or 6 hour (more like 7+ for me) event, do you make a conscious effort to keep your efforts under threshold? Or are you willing to pin it on the up and hope to recover in other places?

Grand Teton: 5 hrs 17 min

2011-06-30T13:32:00.001-06:00

Jason Dorais, Andy Dorais, and I went back to the Grand for a speed attempt. We got it done in 5 hrs and 17 minutes. I'd like to write something that expresses what went into this project, how I feel about it, and why. I hope to get to that someday soon. For now, here are a few links to some reports on the trip and the "proj":

http://www.tetonat.com/2011/06/26/grand-teton-ski-descent-speed-record-set/ (I've expressed some of my thoughts in the comments section.)

http://www.powdermag.com/stories/assaults-grand-teton/

http://slcsherpa.blogspot.com/2011/06/grand-teton-ski-descent-speed-record.html

http://jasondorais.blogspot.com/2011/06/6-28-2011-speed-attempt-of-fordstettner.html

http://teton.outerlocal.com/skiing/grand-teton-speed-project-reader

http://www.getstrongergolonger.com/journal/2011/6/27/grand-teton-time-standard.html

Lone Peak: Up Big Willow, NE Couloir, Down Bells

2011-06-19T22:34:00.003-06:00

NE Face of Lone Peak, January 2011

I see Lone Peak almost everyday. From my car and my work at window, it often holds my attention. What's it doing today? While it is situated quite closely to the valley, the approach is long by Wasatch standards--you can't drive to its base and start climbing. And that's one of the characteristics that makes it my one of my favorites.

Friday night, when Lone became the target, good partners were hard to come by. The Dorais bros were running RAGNAR, Brother Sam had to work, Bart is still out of commission. So it became a solo mission. My plan was to drop a bike at the Bell's Canyon trailhead, climb up from the Big Willow trailhead, ski the NE Couloir, ski out Bells Canyon, and ride my bike back to the Big Willow trailhead.

I've heard different things about Big Willow as a way to get up Lone Peak. If you look at it from the valley, it is a very direct way to go. More direct than Bells or Dry Creek (which departs from Alpine). Fritzrips says Big Willow the way to go. But I've heard horror stories about Big Willow too, all of which involve epic bushwhacks. I've never been up Big Willow and approached it with a bit of trepidation. I figured that at worst I'd get an early morning hike in. Luckily, my inner homing pigeon was functioning, and after a couple hours, much travail with caterpillars and their silky wisps, I was at the head of Big Willow cirque. For those who might try Lone Peak via Big Willow, I'll give you a hint: the Sawmill Trail.

My Dynafit boots, MontBell puffy, CAMP nanotech crampons, ski crampons, and a bottle of water fit nicely in my 30L pack. Besides a few gels, a headlamp, Whippets, and skis that's pretty much all I carried. From 5500 ft where the trail starts, I fast hiked and sometimes jogged up the trail. By 9000 feet, I was in the cirque and walking on hard snow. Travelling conditions were prime, so I kept my running shoes on until the cirque steepened, at which point I switched to my boots, race skis, and ski crampons.

Big Willow Cirque, June 2011

The other side of the "Notch."

Near the top of the cirque, I gained a ridge, mostly hard snow and a few granite blocks. I tried to put my crampons on, but realized that they were set to fit a different pair of boots, and didn't fit the ones I had on. Without tools to fix them, I went without crampons. (In hindsight, I guess a mini Leatherman doesn't weigh that much. Maybe I'll carry one from now on.) Going crampon-less made the the final ascent and traverse to the summit a bit more adventuresome.

Traverse to the top of Lone Peak.

I topped out on the North Summit in 2 hours and 59 minutes. And promptly texted this photo to my buddies.

As I was climbing the cirque, I was thrilled that the snow was hard. But I worried that I was too early for the corn cycle. As it turned out, the NE face of Lone Peak corns up about 8:00 a.m., which is about the time I skied it.

As I made turns off the headwall of the NE Couloir, I thought I'd hit the jackpot. But soon I found myself dodging runnels. Because of a very deep (like 6 feet) runnel, midway down the chute, I had to ski a contrived line, and eventually had to downclimb into the runnel and then climb out of the runnel to continue my contrived line.

The chute within the chute.

As I neared the bottom of the NE Couloir, I was relieved to discover that the cliff was still sufficiently filled in. While there was a large glide crack--huckable if you were crazy enough--between the cliff and the snow, the crack was skirtable. As I reached the apron, I breathed a sigh of relief, and arced my turns a bit bigger. Then, I skied a couple thousand feet of corn, out Bells Canyon.

Eventually though, I ran out of snow. I think I startled several scouts and families as I ran down and out the Bells Canyon trail with skis on my back, wearing a weird grin on my face. That didn't deter me much because I was hoping to keep my car-to-car time under 5 hours. But the inner homing pigeon must have died because at Bells reservoir, I got turned around. Weird, I know but it happened. At the exit, my bike was waiting for me.

Bells Canyon. I started running up this road before I realized I ought to be running down this road.

My waiting bike. DON'T LAUGH AT MY RIDE! Yes, it is a women's styled bike.
And yes, I can sit perfectly upright on this bike -- perfect with a ski pack on.

After a leisurely cruise down Wasatch Blvd, I made it back to my car. I clocked in at about 5:11 car-to-car. At the trailhead, I met Chris Cawley who had made an attempt on the Grand Teton earlier this week and was out for a trail run. He laughed at my ride too.

Mode of Travel: Ski, Run, Bike
Stats: 5:11
Miles: 14.9
Vert: 6528

Spring Wackiness

2011-06-13T17:25:00.001-06:00

6.13.11 -- The Pfeif

Obligatory Ridge Shot
Pfeifferhorn

I've not yet given up on skiing. I think I'll be doing that until at least July, which means that I'm going to be a really crappy runner this year. Oh well. . .

This morning (on June 13th!) before work, Billy Demong and I skied from the White Pine TH to the top of the Pfeif, traversed out of Maybird and skied a shot into Red Pine, climbed Lake Peak, and skied a shot into White Pine, and then skied out. We started out in trail shoes, but very quickly, we realized that we could pretty much skin from the car, and changed into our ski boots. For those interested, coverage up high is very good. Skiing is variable, but generally good early in the morning and especially up high. We were skinning by 5:30 and done by 10:00 am.

Billy chatting with a sponsor on his way up: "yeah, just out for a little training this morning. . . on the Pfeif."

Shot into Red Pine

Pfieff, Hogum, and Lightning Ridge in the background. I think I found Snap Dragon! Finally.

6.11.11 -- San Rafael aka Little Grand Canyon Canoe Trip

On Saturday, I got to spend some time with my family on the San Rafael River. It's a seasonal river that is floatable at 300 cfs. On Saturday, it was pushing 1000 cfs. We had one close call when my dad and his canoe and got swept under a big cottonwood tree that had fallen across the river. Floating through the 17 mile stretch without having to expend a whole lot of energy was welcome.

Ethan (my son) enjoying the San Rafael.

6.8.11 -- Olympus West Slabs (Up this Time)

On Wednesday morning before work, Jon Schofield, Tom Diegel, Jason Dorais and I did our attempt at a fast and furious "run" up the West Slabs. Having "skied" it a month or two ago, and inspired by Jared Campbell's 1:01 car-to-car time (wow!), I was anxious to give it a shot. I figured if we could "ski" a 5.6 rock climb, we ought to be able to solo it. Good logic right? Our time was nowhere near Jared's, and the glissade down the Apollo Couloir was almost scarier than skiing the West Slabs. But it was a success and something I might incorporate into my routine this summer. Here are a couple video links that document some of the shenanigans that occurred: (a) Jon descending Apollo in style, and (b) Jon's good friends, courtesy of Jason Dorais.

Me and Tom climbing. Tilt was intentional. Photo: Jason Dorais

Grand Teton

2011-06-05T21:44:00.000-06:00

On Saturday, I skied the Grand Teton. I've been after this all year, and I'm happy that it's done . . . for now.

Grand Teton with the Ford, Chevy, and Stettner Couloirs visible.

Just having returned from a trip to Baker and with some mandatory family stuff on Saturday afternoon, I wasn't intending on doing much this weekend. But when I found out Brian Harder, Jason Dorais, and Brother Sam had something brewing in the Tetons, I couldn't stay away. Initially, I resisted and told them I was out. But by Friday morning, I had succumbed to the Teton gravitational pull. My plan: get to Jackson late on Friday, sleep a couple hours, start with Brian, Jason, and Sam at 2 am, climb and ski the Grand, and then be back in Salt Lake by 4 pm on Saturday.

We set out to climb the Grand in our style: fast and light. We wore tight clothing, some iteration of Dynafit's TLT boot, and no ski was wider than 75 mm. Luckily, the conditions suited that style. The skies were clear and at Lupine Meadows, the snow patches were hard and frozen. The splits were roughly as follows: Meadows at 1:50, top of Teepee Col at 3:__, top of the Grand at 5:15, bottom of the Stettner at 6:12, Meadows at 6:35, lost at 6300 ft at 6:59, Lupine Meadows TH at 7:21.

With ski crampons, I kept my skis on until the top of the Teepee Col. From there, we switched to crampons and ice tools. The conditions in the Stettner, Chevy, and Ford were mostly breakable crust above top-of-boot to knee-deep snow. Spindrift poured over and through us in the Stettner. There were two small ice bulges in the Chevy. The snow in the Ford was softer and deeper. We all simul-soloed--climbed and descended without ropes.

At the bottom of the Stettner, I left my partners who were on a much bigger mission (Grand, Middle, and South linkup).

While I'm happy with the time of 7:21, I think that it could be done in closer to 6 hours. . . . something to dream about.

My favorite photos of the day:

Jason Dorais and Brian Harder climbing Tepee Col

First light on ??

Sam in the Stettner Couloir

The crew in the Chevy Couloir

Headwall of the Ford and nearing the top of the Grand Teton with the Tetons at our feet.

Sam, 30 feet from the summit.

Jason Dorais skiing off the summit of the Grand Teton.

Mt. Baker: Up the North Ridge, Down the CD Route

2011-06-02T11:16:00.001-06:00

Mt. Baker

On Memorial Day, Brother Aaron and I set out to climb and ski Mt. Baker. We woke up to rain. We drove up Glacier Creek road in the rain, and when we hit snow about 2 miles from the trailhead at about 3000 feet, we started hiking and then skinning . . . in the rain. Although we dared not discuss it, the question that filled our minds was, "why are we climbing a volcano, blind, in the rain?" But we only had one day, and we climbed with a hope and a prayer that the skies would clear. And guess what? By the time we hit 7000 feet, the clouds and mist began to lift! For a while anyway.

Our first glimpse at Baker's North Ridge

North Ridge beginning to reveal itself.

Top of the Coleman Glacier

As the skies cleared, we could see that we were just above the Coleman Glacier with its bergschrund (I've always wanted to be able to use that word, yessss.) less than 100 yards below us. Getting to the North Ridge requires a crossing of sorts across the Coleman Glacier. Toward s the top of the glacier, it seemed pretty filled in. Even so, because what lay beneath was a bit unnerving, Aaron and I roped up and did our best to be safe. Aaron boot belayed me over this crevasse.

As we crossed, clouds rolled in and out, sometimes killing our visibility. I couldn't shake that nagging concern of whether we should pull the plug. But the drive to get on the North Ridge and the fear of re-crossing the glacier in low/no vis conditions prevailed.

The north face of Baker was impressive. The lower face was littered with ice fall debris, and higher hung huge seracs. I'd heard that the Coleman Headwall, which is on Baker's north face, was a worthy ski descent, but from where we were, it looked more than daunting.

Once across the Coleman Glacier, we front pointed up about 1000 feet of 60 degree hard snow, and soon the notorious "ice cliff" came into view. I wondered whether we ought to approach via climber's right or left, and eventually opted for left.

Ice cliff on the North Ridge of Baker

Climbing the ice cliff was really cool. The ice was blue and very hard and brittle. I was glad that I had some vertical point crampons. We had 8 ice screws and each of us had 2 tools. We climbed on one 8.2 mm half rope. Aaron dodged dinner plates, and I climbed first. The first 20 meters or so up the cliff were the and once over the cliff, the pitch mellowed out. The first pitch measured 59.8 meters. As we climbed, the clouds rolled in again, and the low/no vis significantly bumped up the adventure rating.

Climbing the ice cliff

Aaron above the ice cliff

Pitch 2: Take!!!

Once above the ice obstacles, between us and the summit was another long pitch of steep hard snow. To the left and right of us were large hanging seracs. Soon, the clouds lifted and we could see the summit above us; below us, we had a great view of the Roosevelt and Coleman Glaciers. As we neared the top, we were blasted with a cold wind. Aaron was happy.

Fortunately for us, there were ski tracks down the Coleman-Deming route, which we followed. The descent was relatively casual. And lucky for us, the exit was perfect. We were able to descend a solid 7,600 feet without having to hike, skin, or pole.

Aaron skiing off Mt. Baker on the Coleman-Deming route.

Stats:

Gear: Dynafit Broad Peak Skis, La Sportiva RT Bindings, Dynafit DyNA boots, Grivel G22 crampons, Cassin X-Mtn Tools, 8 Grivel screws, 1 8.2mm Edelweiss rope, CAMP packs, BD Whippets.

Time: 11 hrs 32 minutes car to car.

Vertical: 8500 feet

Ski to Sea

2011-06-01T14:00:00.000-06:00

Memorial Day weekend 2011 will be memorable. I raced in the Ski to Sea race and I climbed and skied Mt. Baker. First, the Ski to Sea.

S2S is an adventure relay race that starts at Mt. Baker ski resort and finishes in Bellingham Bay, Washington. It travels 100 miles and includes the following legs: XC ski, alpine ski, run, road bike, canoe, mountain bike, and sea kayak. My teammates for this event were pulled together by Billy D and a Bellingham local who had some interest in bidding for the win. In other words, I had the privilege of racing with some accomplished athletes. Our team was called "Tony's Demons" and included Taylor Fletcher (XC Ski), Me (Alpine Ski), BJ Christenson (Run), Sam Krieg (Road Bike), Trevor Robinson and Ivan English (Canoe), Mitchell Peterson (Mountain Bike), and Andrew McEwan (Sea Kayak).

Tony's Demons raced strong throughout the race. Of the 500 or so teams that entered, Tony's Demons finished 4th overall with a time of 6 hours and 27 minutes. Barron's Heating won the contest and finished in 6 hours and 11 minutes. Team Barrons is apparently a fixture in the S2S and has won multiple times. Because all of Tony's Demons are competitive (maybe to a fault), most of us were slightly disappointed at our placing. That said, we were very happy with the way our individual legs went and feel like our efforts were good. As the dark horse, it was fun giving the favorites a legitimate run.

My leg involved a short downhill ski, a ~1000 foot booter, and a fast groomed descent. It was sandwiched between the XC ski and the run. Given the relative shortness of the leg, I was surprised when Max Taam, Brandon French, Chris Kroger, and Greg Ruckman--all members of the 2011 US Skimo Team toed the line. Apparently, Bellingham is serious about the S2S. Ruckman ran the race sans poles and decimated the course record, finishing in 17:58, and earning the "Top Gun" award. Max (18:17) broke his ski. Brandon (19:30) was wearing shorts. I finished in 19:33 with my lungs and legs on fire. As always, it was fun racing with those guys.

And a big thanks to Tony's Demons.

Full results can be viewed here.

Here are a few pictures taken by Brother Aaron:

XC Leg Start

BJ Christenson at the Run Leg Start about to run 8 miles
in 37:25!

L to R: BJ Christenson (Runner), A. McEwan (Kayaker)
T. Robinson (Canoe), Me (Alpine Ski),
T. Fletcher (XC Ski), I. English (Canoe)

A. McEwan finishing -- he brought our team from 6th place
to 4th place during his leg

Ogden Marathon

2011-05-23T21:19:00.000-06:00

My intentions were good when I signed up for the Ogden Marathon several months ago. I figured that by May I would be done with skiing and on to other stuff, like running. Little did I know that "spring" skiing would not really even commence until May, or June as the case may be.

By Saturday, I had logged a total of 88 running miles since November 2010. 20 of those 88 miles were acquired on a "fun run" a couple weeks ago, when the Dorais brothers and I set out to run an "of the couch" marathon. We barely made 20 miles, but it gave me confidence that I could make it 26.2. Plus, I've logged lots of vertical and lots of skiing/climbing miles.

After an alpine start, a drive to Ogden, a school bus ride to the top of Ogden canyon, and some milling about in a muddy smoky pasture, I lined up with the 7 minute mile group. I sheepishly stood to the side because I didn't think I would be going that fast. But as it turned out, about 200 people over estimated their pace, and as the gun went off, I found myself boxed in. Luckily, one skill I do have is being able to weave in and out of any type of peloton (bike, ski, or run), and work myself up into a decent position, which is what I did in the first mile or so.

When the people cleared, I was able to catch a short glimpse of the elite guys. They were flying! And that was inspirational. It almost made me want to be a marathon runner.

This inspiration carried me for about 10 miles. I was having fun, feeling good, and moving at a decent 6:45 ish pace. The course took us by the swollen Weber river and Pineview reservoir. Above Pineview, I traced ski lines on the snow-covered mountains. I was having a good time.

I was surprised that I was moving at a 6:45 pace because I had only done two 3 mile runs at that pace this year. But since it felt ok, I went with it. But my head told me I ought to slow down. I didn't though.

By mile 10 or so, my body had no choice but to slow down to a 7:30 pace for a mile or so. I think I had a hunger knock, which was turned around quickly by some gel. The achiness in my feet disappeared with a couple Ibuprofens and I was able to run the next 5 miles sub-7. I secretly wondered whether I could go under 3 hours.

But that was too ambitious. By mile 17, I was a hurting unit. By mile 19, I was no longer inspired and had eaten the last of my 1200 mgs of Ibuprofen. I wanted to be done.

About mile 21 or 22, a couple of guys that I saw at the beginning of the race, leisurely loped by. Both were wearing red shirts. Both looked experienced. So, I latched on and started drafting off of them, forcing myself to match their pace.

I did that until my legs locked up. Cramps. I had to stop and work the kinks out for a bit. I did hamstring/calf stretches on the guardrail. Luckily, the cramps subsided, and I was able to continue. As long as I kept my pace in the 7:30 range, my legs would go. As I moved into the 7:00 range, the cramps would come back. It took me a couple of cycles to figure that out.

While my aerobic system didn't feel all that taxed, my legs and body felt maxed. The Ibuprofen dulled a lot of that, but the pain was throbbing through by mile 25. Fortunately, the last mile, I saw several people I knew. I also could hear music. And that lifted me up and carried me to the line.

I crossed the line in 3:12 and 40 something seconds, and was glad to have completed my first legitimate marathon.

Since then, I've looked at some blogs of 2:30 marathon runners. And I'm intrigued. How do they maintain such a fast pace for 26 miles? Although I set out to run the Ogden Marathon with some guys at work and so I can put a 26.2 sticker on my car (kidding!), I'd be lying if I said that I don't have any new aspirations.

North Face of Buck Mountain

2011-05-16T10:19:00.001-06:00

On Saturday, Brother Sam and I, backed up by Sister Anne, joined Brian Harder for a climb up Buck Mountain via the Newc Couloir and the summit ridge, and then a "ski" down via the Bubble Fun Couloir.

Buck Mountain .Newc Couloir on right side. Bubble Fun Couloir on the left. Photo Credit: SummitPost

Buck Mountain stands about 12,000 ft tall in the southern Tetons. There are three prominent lines off "Bucky's" north face--the Bubble Fun Couloir, the Newc Couloir, and the North Couloir. Brian wanted to ski all of them, and that's what we set out to do. As usual, and in accordance with my M.O. of this spring, we tried to bite off a bit more than we could chew. Still, we had a fun adventure, one that I'll not forget.

A Newc

L to R: Brian, me, Rod Newcomb,
Bob McLaurin, Sam

The Newc Couloir is named after Mark Newcomb who, I guess, made the first ski descent. After running over a deer, puncturing a tire, and making a tire pit stop in Evanston at 10 p.m., Sam, Anne, and I rolled into the Taggart trailhead at 1:30 a.m. Sam and Anne put up a tent in the parking lot, and I crashed in the front seat of the car. I awoke to Brian's voice and the smell of singed deer guts at 3:00 a.m. Shortly after that, an older model brown Mazda truck rolled into the parking lot. It was Rod Newcomb, father of Mark Newcomb, and an icon in Teton mountaineering. Like us, he was going skiing at 3 a.m. in the morning. Unlike us, he was 78 years old. All the years of experience in that one man is quite astounding. I'm sure he thought I was a doofus when I asked him if I could have my picture with him. But he obliged, reluctantly. "Guess I don't have a choice," he said.

Teton Sunrise

A Bear Booter

Going without sleep, stumbling around in the mountains in isothermic snow, crossing over a lake like Bradley Lake on thin ice, and coming across fresh bear tracks aren't on my list of reasons to get up early to ski. Seeing the sun come up, however, is. Seeing the sun light up the objective--Bucky's north face--also is.

Skinning up Avalanche Canyon at first light. Photo: Sam Inouye

Bubble Fun on the left, Newc on the right.

To the Top

Man Booter up the Newc

Going into our project, we knew that the snow conditions would be a big factor in our success, or failure. This year, the Tetons have had over 600 inches of snow. April came and went without a period of high pressure. Last week, a new foot or so fell. On our approach, we crossed multiple wet debris piles. What would it be like up higher, we wondered?

At about 10,000 ft., we encountered winter-ish conditions. Bucky's sheltered north face had protected the snow, and booting conditions became firmer. We appreciated this since we set up a 3,000+ vertical foot booter up the Newc. With crampons, we kicked steps, and traded pulls. As we did, fog and clouds rolled in and out.

As we went higher, the Tetons to the north came into view, including the South and the Grand.

Endless options!

As we climbed to the top of the Newc, the slope became less sheltered, and we climbed into the sun and onto some steep wet snow. Each of us brought 1 ice tool. We plunged them deep as we tentatively made our way over the wet steepness, finally gaining the summit ridge.

Sam topping out on the Newc.

The expression on Brian's face says a lot.

As Brian crested, I pointed at the foreboding west ridge and said, "Brian, the ridge is full-on; I think we might be hosed." Sam simply said, "I'm not climbing that." Brian reasoned that our stance portrayed our desired route in the worst light possible, and urged us forward, and so forward we went, up the ridge. As I worked up the ridge, I gave myself a pep talk: the guidebook says that this in only 5.7 . . . Because the snow was rotten, and in no way afforded any measure of security on the exposed ridge, I chiseled away ice and snow to find good holds. Luckily, the holds revealed themselves. And soon, we were standing on top of Buck Mountain.

Good hands? Brian and Sam traversing to the summit of Buck Mountain.

Bubble What?
So, who named the "Bubble Fun Couloir"? Seriously. Perhaps the name-giver was demented. Or perhaps the name-giver employed the same strategy we employed in calling Buck Mountain "Bucky." Using a more endearing or comical label somehow made the otherwise scary mountain a little more palatable, more friendly. I have to admit though, as I dropped into the Bubble Fun Couloir, I wasn't feeling the love. At the top, there was a thin layer of slop over a firmer layer. Luckily, it got better as we descended. And it was steep! Added to the "fun" was the fact that the chute terminates at the precipice of a 200+ foot drop. Completely undeserving of the name "Bubble Fun," completely.

Brian Harder descends the Bubble Fun.

Our Crude Anchor

Me and Brian downclimbing to a rap station.

I was scratching around, looking for a crack. We were a bit nervous because the sun was starting to heat up the Bubble Fun headwall. Small chunks were zinging past. "Hey Brian, where are the pins?"

Brian was scratching around, looking for a crack. "You have them."

"No, I don't."

We both looked at each other. And then Brian said some things that I cannot repeat on my blog.

I had a rack of pins, but I left them in the car, thinking for some reason that Brian had a rack. As it turned out, he didn't. Fortunately, he had a rack of nuts and I had two Pecker Pitons. And fortunately, after significant foraging in the snow, we found some placements. We put in two nuts, and drove a Pecker in sideways. And then we rapped off two nuts and a Pecker. Sorry, very crude--in a number of ways.

Sam

I take the blame for the questionable rigging. In hindsight, I should have used a double fisherman's to join to cordelette ends, and we should have put a figure 8 in the cordelette to prevent shock loading if a placement failed. But, it had been a stressful few moments, and we were anxious to get out of there. Brian committed first, and informed us that cliff was exactly 200 ft. and that our cords reached, just barely.

Time to Go.
Our adventure in the Bubble Fun took too much time. While we ascended the Newc in less than 1 hr 30 min., the climb up the summit ridge and setting up our rap took more time than anticipated. By the time we were at the bottom of the Bubble Fun, it was 11:00 or so. Temperatures were climbing, and we reluctantly skied past our booter up the Newc, descended to the bottom of Avalanche Canyon, and skied out.

Bradley Lake with the Grand barely visible through the clouds.

On Blogging

2011-05-13T11:27:00.001-06:00

I've been thinking of something Aton Krupicka said on his blog a few days ago:

Over the past couple of years I've realized that maintaining a blog isn't such a personal thing as one might first think and that it is actually a very rewarding means by which to connect with others, share, and hopefully inspire and impact the community in a positive manner. I say it a lot, but running often feels like a very selfish activity to me, however, sharing my experiences with other interested folks via this blog and others has become an effective way to hopefully contribute and expand the impact of my running experiences beyond just my own little world.

Although I've never expressed it out loud here, I've often wondered why I blog. Once, when I was supported by one front point on a flake above an exposed cliff, I wondered whether I was taking such a risk just so I could blog about it. I almost resolved to quit blogging right then and there because blogging for that reason would be, well, dumb.

Of course, I didn't quit blogging because part of me agrees with what Krupicka says: sharing my experiences somehow makes my adventures seem a little less selfish. And doing so allows me to tap in to a community of people who share similar interests.

After all, it is because of the accounts of others who took the time and care to write about their adventures that I was and am inspired to do what I do. One of the things that I like to do is long ski traverses/linkups. Looking back, it was a combination of many things that motivated me to strive to develop the "art" of these kinds of traverses (an "art" that remains elusive). I've been skimo racing, i.e. trying to figure out how to move fast on skis, since 2003. But the thought of taking fast skiing and skimo race technique to the mountains and the backcountry really didn't occur to me until a few years ago. More specifically, the blogs and publications of Andrew McLean (Wasatch Top 10 in 10 Days), Greg Hill (accounts of his big long days), and Noah Howell (the Super Coaster) got me thinking of fast and light ski traverses/linkups. They inspired me, and for that I say, thanks!

Presently, I think it's safe to say that there are good ski and climbing blogs for most ranges in the lower 48. As I've surfed the web, looking for beta and daydreaming about places I'd like to go and traverses/linkups I'd like to do, I've stumbled across some pretty cool accounts, on blogs of course. For example, I'm heading to the Cascades later this month. Written adventure accounts posted by the Traslin brothers, Sky and skisickness.com, and the Skoogs, just to name a few, have been very useful. Thanks. As I've surfed the web, trying to learn the ins and outs of alpine climbing, I've discovered resources like Cold Thistle. Again, I say thanks.

I've found that while guidebooks point me in the general direction of where I want to go, blogs and personal accounts often fill in important details and provide inspiration. So, my conclusion for now is that while blogging is somewhat self-promoting, and a bit silly, I'm going to continue. And as I have been inspired by others' blogs, my hope is that some of my accounts here will do the same.

Thwarted Thrice.

2011-04-17T14:42:00.003-06:00

I'm due for some good luck. In case the gods, or karma as it were, are listening/out there, I don't say that with a sense of entitlement, just as a matter of fact. Statistically speaking, failing thrice should only mean that my odds of success are only getting better, unless the gods/karma are punishing me. Or, unless, I'm only setting myself up to fail. In any event, April thus far has been . . . interesting.

Attempt No. 1: April Ascent of an obscure line in the Wasatch.

the garbage chute photo: jason dorais

The Dorais bros think that this line is in the lineup for one of the best lines in the Wasatch. And I don't disagree. But I call it the garbage chute because it is a choke through which a steep face above expels, well, its garbage. And we just happened to be trying to climb the ice fall when the intense April sun provoked an expulsion of garbage--rocks, snow, and the like. My little brother Aaron was mid-climb when he almost became garbage as a sluff entrainment poured over the top of him. Weird thing, but I have a sneaking suspicion that this ranked as one of the top coolest things that ever happened to him. Sick. . . in lots of ways.

This is me bailing off the route on a V-thread and a buried avy shovel:

photo: jason dorais again

Attempt No. 2: April link up of some relatively obscure lines involving the SL Twins.

Little Brother Aaron and the Dorais brothers and I hooked up last week to ski off a northwestish line of the SL Twins. This is how I will forever remember that event:

avante gard portrayal of a Broads Fork tour

It involved taking a creative way up Broads Fork, a downclimb, wicked April weather, bailing, and ending up eating an omelette at Paradise Bakery when we were supposed to be linking some sweet lines.

Attempt No. 3: April Ski Ascent of an alpine climb in the Wasatch.

After our failed attempt at the linkup above, I went on a solo mission to climb and ski this mountain:

The weather forecast was for cold temperatures, and I got an alpine start, hoping that things would be locked into place. It wasn't as cold as I hoped, and while skinning the apron was a bit suspect snow conditions-wise, when I got to the climbing part, the snow and ice were nice and hard, and travel was relatively easy. About 2/3s up, I got a bit off route, and the snow and ice started getting thinner and thinner and the rock slab I was on started getting smoother and smoother. Uh oh.

When I crossed the line of "too risky," I pulled out a pin, drove it in and self-belayed off that and a cordelette (as if that were any better). But as I kept edging that line, I broke down, built an anchor, pulled out my rope, and climbed, placing a few pieces on self-belay. I climbed to a suitable rap anchor where I promptly and happily bailed. Just as I did, the intense April sun touched the top of the mountain and some sluffage plopped down right next to me. Definitely, time to go. Skiing the apron was nice though.

This is me getting scared.

Bushwhacks Watch Out!

2011-04-06T09:59:00.004-06:00

Shovel? Check. Probe? Check. Beacon? Check. Machete? Check.

Timp Traverse

2011-04-03T15:20:00.001-06:00

Timp Traverse
From Provo Canyon to American Fork Canyon

On Friday, the Dorais brothers, Chad Ambrose and I traversed Mt. Timpanogos. We went South to North, from Provo Canyon to American Fork Canyon, going up a west facing couloir, across the ridge, and out Cold Fusion. From afar, the "Sleeping Maiden" is a bit intimidating--almost too beautiful and wild to dare to approach. Over the years, and not without a few rejections, I've become somewhat acquainted with her; although, I'd be lying if I said that she's not still intimidating. Certainly, she deserves respect.

Jason Dorais, paying respect. He's single by the way.

Stats:

Yours Truly reaching the True Summit (and)
tying Chad's lone Montrail running shoe to
the apex of the hut. (photo: Andy Dorais)

Time: 9 hrs 53 minutes
Distance: 15.3 miles
Elevation Gain: 9,457 ft
Elevation Loss: 8,471 ft
Max Elevation: 11,733 ft
Miles on dirt: 3
Miles above 11k: 5
Summits: Timp South, Timp True, Bomber Peak, Timp North, and a couple other 11k+ nubs
Partners: Andy Dorais, Jason Dorais, Chad Ambrose
Monster Avalanche Crowns observed: 4
Offerings unintentionally made to the Sleeping Maiden: 1 shoe, 1 pair of gloves, 1 Dynafit ski crampon, 1 bag of Gu Chomps
Offerings intentionally made to the Sleeping Maiden: 1 shoe, proudly flying on the top the summit hut
Food consumed: 1.75 liters of sports drink, 1 coke, 2 bags of Chomps, 1 gu, 2 Snickers, trail mix, 1 bag of jerky
Gear: I was on Dynafit Broad Peaks with La Sportiva RT Bindings with Dynafit DyNA boots. This ski setup is about 1 pound heavier (per foot) than my race skis, but makes the DH and skinning (more stable, more surface area) a bit more bearable. The high heel lifters on the RT bindings came in handy on the 6000 ft+ climb up west Timp. Andy and Chad were on BD Gurus. Jason was on Dynafit Nanga Parbats.

The East-ish aspects of Timp were awesome. I saw at least 4 very large avalanche crowns. Notice the crown on the peak in the background. I think these were caused by cornice fall. (Photo: Jason Dorais)

The East Ridge viewed from the South.

The west facing aspect of Timp--the side we traversed--was frozen solid.
It was slick and scary on skis without ski crampons.

West Slabs aka Medusa's Face: All You Ever Wanted, and More

2011-03-27T16:52:00.001-06:00

The Straightchuter says this about the Medusa's Face:

Like Russian Roulette--more fun to watch than to play. This is a good line to skip unless it's really been weighing on your mind. The angle and settings are superb, but the approach, egress and snow conditions ruin a theoretically great line. It all depends on the snow pack, but considering the geography, good skiable conditions are rare. The underlying bed surface is a smooth, high angle rock slab that continually sheds snow, so the pack is never very deep. . . . About the only saving grace of this situation is that there are quite a few small trees that can be used as anchors if you choose to ski roped. A fall would be graphic and fatal, and you're likely to end up at Einstein's Bagels if you do.

-- A. McLean, Chuting Gallery, p. 70

Mt. Olympus

The West Slabs have been weighing on my mind for a long time. After a couple of aborted attempts, I thought it was time to give it another shot. Andy Jacobsen who has actually skied the West Slabs said that he was able to do it in March in "fat" conditions. So when we got some snow this week, in March, I was optimistic and resolved to give it a go. When I mentioned it to Brother Sam, without hesitation, he was in. And when Brother Sam mentioned it to Brother Aaron, without hesitation, he was in. It appears that we all suffer from the same genetic defect.

Me and Sam on Olympus' summit ridge

So, did West Slabs meet and exceed our greatest expectations? I guess, it depends. We were disappointed to find out that we couldn't ski it from top to bottom, but all in all it was a one-stop shopping experience that provided a week's worth of adventure in one compact, exciting package, all within view of Einstein's Bagels.

Beneath her Nose

Everything you could ever want within a 5 minute Drive

This included:

Class 6 Buswhack
Mountain lion tracks
Alpine ascent of Olympus' backbone
A ski descent down Medusa's forehead, which was covered with 8 inches of powder, 8 inches of crust, and 8 inches of facets on top of top quality quartzite
Jump turns, free floating, hoping and praying what lies beneath is snow, crust, or facets, and not solid stone
Jump turning onto solid stone, sliding, skidding, sparks flying, hoping that the ski edges would just bite already
Sundog
Watching sluff reveal a cold, hard, icy, rocky, face from Medua's nose down
Crossing a rock spine covered with thin ice, slipping out, doing a dinner roll, and landing on edges with them biting hard
Skiing past rappel anchors
Having the actual thought cross my mind that I am about to go through Einstein's roof
Rapping off a particularly steep section
Downclimbing a rotten runnel with a tool and a whippet with a few rock moves thrown in for good measure
Skiing the chalky apron below Medusa's face and then transitioning onto a bowl of frozen debris
Trail skiing through the scrub oak
Laughing at and with and being scared with and for my brothers.

Aaron

Sam

Sam, apologizing to his skis.

The Hulk Hogum

2011-03-20T15:59:00.003-06:00

Pfeifferhorn, NW Couloir

This week, brothers Andy and Jason Dorais and I completed a linkup of several prominent lines in Hogum Fork in the backcountry of Little Cottonwood Canyon, Utah. Andy calls it the "Hulk Hogum." We began with the Northwest Couloir of the Pfeifferhorn; skied a soon-to-be named/identified coolie in upper Hogum, which we thought might be Snap Dragon, but on further reflection decided, not; knocked off the some of the more popular steep lines of Lightning Ridge--Montgomery, the Sliver, Dresden Face, Hypodermic Needle; and finished with a descent of the Coalpit headwall, a traverse to the top of the Y Couloir, and out the Y Couloir.

The Stats

Andy Dorais climbing the Pfeif

- Lines Skied: Pfeif NW, Cham Chute, Montgomery, Sliver, Dresden Face, Hypodermic Needle,Coalpit headwall, Y Couloir
- Vertical: 11,700 up, 14,475 down
- Time: 13 hrs, 41 minutes
- Redundant Uptracks: up Sliver 2x , up Needle apron/Coalpit ridge 3x
- Raps: 1 on Pfeiff NW, 2 on Montgomery
- Collective Gear: lightweight skinny skis, tech bindings, Whippets, minimalist harnesses, 60 meter 6mm cord, tat, a few nuts, a few pins, and 1 ice tool.
- Conditions: not spring, not what was forecasted, WINDY, variable snow--pow, windboard, ice
- Injuries: 1 scraped knee (Jason's), several frost-nipped and now numb finger tips (mine and Jason's)
- Mood: cynical, sardonic, stoked, exuberant, pissed-off (Coalpit Ridge x 3, skin failure x 5), amazed, frightened, inspired, grateful, beat down, and lifted up.

Going Light = Freedom

Free: Andy Dorais, Jared Inouye, and Jason Dorais

In the last few years, I've been inspired by alpinism -- climbing hard and long routes with minimal gear as fast as possible. Reading the adventures and feats of guys like Mark Twight, Steve House, and now Colin Haley, just to name a few, has left my mind spinning, and wondering. This is one reason that I've been interested in rando racing, which is all about skiing fast and minimally. While alpinism and ski mountaineering, ski alpinisme if you're french, are not the same, I think there are parallels and even a fair amount of crossover. I also think that ski mountaineering has been and will continue to be informed and driven by rando racing, although the two disciplines also have differences.

Rando racing has had a major effect on my skiing. Nowadays, it's hard for me to clip into my 95mm waisted Manaslus, which weigh 3.8 pounds per foot. It's even hard to clip into my 78mm waisted Trab Free Randos, which weigh 3.1 pounds per foot. I often, even on a powder day, find myself clipping into my 65 mm race skis, which weigh 2.1 pounds per foot. Why? Because going light = going higher and longer with less effort. Because going light allows me to ski routes like the Hulk Hogum. Because going light presents the possibility of one day going big.

Hulk Hogum

Andy in 4wd

If I were to choose one word to characterize the Hulk Hogum, it would be "steep." All of the lines in the Hulk Hogum, at their best, are between 45 and 55 degrees. We were lucky to get a couple of the lines in soft conditions (Cham Chute, Dresden and Coalpit). Some of the others presented a clinic on skiing icy to breakable conditions on lightweight ski gear. Although I know there were times when I didn't look (or feel) all that calm and fluid, I don't think I ever took a fall, and in my book, that's a success.

Being in Hogum Fork is always special. Nearly every side of Hogum is rimmed with spires. In the Wasatch, it may be as good as it gets.

Is this Snap Dragon? The ramp trending down from top looker's right to lower left is what I now call the "Cham Chute."

The Munter

To accomplish this project, we needed some climbing gear, which would increase what we normally carry. In trying to go lighter, I brought a 60 meter 6mm cord, used a 95 gram harness, and left my belay device in the car. I was really happy with the 6mm cord, which at 22 grams per meter weighs less than half of one strand of a twin or half rope. I carried the cord for the first part our tour, and after I began complaining about it, Jason stuffed it in his pack. The 6mm cord on a Munter hitch also worked nicely, even on an overhanging rap.

A couple of the lines in the Hulk Hogum required a rope. Getting into Montgomery from the Sliver required a rope, and then we had to rap the cliffs at the mid sections of the Pfeif NW Couloir and Montgomery. The Dorais brothers built the anchors on Montgomery, leaving $30 worth of offerings to the mountain for which they will be blessed, no doubt.

Jason Dorais descending Montgomery

One nut, one pin.

Where is Snap Dragon?
If it's not yet obvious, one of the recurring themes of the day was the Snap Dragon. Where is it? I think my partners were a bit annoyed with my Snap Dragon fixation. Surely, the Cham Chute was a decent substitute, but I would like to find and, one day, ski Snap Dragon. Help, anyone?

The Power of Four

2011-03-08T16:34:00.002-07:00

The Power of Four is now being touted as North America's "best" skimo race; Powder Mag compares it to the classic Patrouille de Glacier. Certainly, it is the longest at 27.5 miles and 12,800 vertical feet ascended. My partner Brian Harder summed it up well, calling it "one of the hardest physical tests many of us have faced on skis." Here are a few of my thoughts:

An Odd Pair

Aspen has seen many odd pairs looking for adventure

The Power of Four is a teams race, meaning that racers must race in teams of two. As Brian and I rolled into Aspen, I laughed as I thought of the Dumb and Dumber scene depicted to the right (take special note of the snot and the facial expressions). I was comforted to know that we weren't the first odd pair looking for adventure in Aspen.

On paper, we are unlikely teammates. Brian is tall, I am not. Brian is 10 years older than I am. I like to start fast, he does not. His diesel engine is indefatigable; my rice burner? not so much. Nevertheless, we were joined together by one common objective: to race as fast as we could against and on Aspen's best.

The Power of Two
In an individualistic sport, the team dynamic is interesting. One of the more satisfying things I discovered at the Power of Four was the power of two. I think that as a team we ended up being faster than either of us would have been individually. We both had strong moments and we both had weak moments. And with each other's help, we made up for one another's deficiencies, harnessing one another's energy, enabling us to push faster to the end.

Highlands Peak and the Bowl

One of the key moments in the race occurred as we were on our second major climb, a 4400 foot climb from the bottom of Aspen Highlands resort to the top of Highland Peak (12,392). I was excited because we had acquired a decent gap on the teams of Brown/Koles and Hagen/Schilling. We were in third place, and second place was within striking distance. But Brian started vomiting. The sounds were a bit disconcerting, so I didn't look back at first. When I finally did, he was standing there, leaning on his poles, and looking a bit worried. I pulled out the bungee cord and offered it to him, and to his credit, he took it, and we proceeded "on tow." By the time we hit the bootpack, he had recovered. By the time we had reached the top, we had pulled into second place.

Photo Credit: Pierre Wille

The second key moment in the race occurred at the beginning of the demoralizing 6 mile final climb to Aspen Mountain. With 10,000 feet and over 20 miles in my legs, and not enough food, I was fading. At the start of the climb, I gulped down an energy bar that I grabbed at an aid station. As soon as I did so, however, blood went to my stomach to digest, and I lost some power in my legs. I was struggling to match Brian's pace and I could see the team of Brown/Koles closing in on us. I took the tow rope out and said, "Brian, I need to go on tow." He nodded, and I clipped in.

I was relieved that the pace-setting burden was squarely on his shoulders, literally and figuratively. I gritted my teeth and did my best to keep some slack in the line. The tow line works a bit of magic. Mentally, it forces the leader to set the pace and try to keep some tension on the line, and it forces the follower to keep pace to try to keep tension off the line. It's a little game that makes a team go faster. Further, when the follower begins to drag, the line gives him a tug, urging him forward, again making the team a bit faster.

Booting up Highlands Peak
Photo Credit: Kevin Krill

Because I am a bit proud (or so my wife says), I was slightly sheepish about going "on tow." I think that was probably the case for Brian too. But in a teams race, you have to be honest and humble enough to know when you need help. You have to know when it's time to be the leader and when it's time to be the follower. It would be unusual not to play both roles during a long race. One of the more satisfying aspects of the race was that we were able to rely on each other.

The Battle

The Final Climb Photo Credit: Kevin Krill

After the first climb, the leaders (Wickenhauser and Smith) were out of sight and out of mind. But after 10,000 feet of climbing and nearly 5 hours into the race, three teams were within one or two minutes of another, gunning for second place. The final positions would be decided on the 6 mile climb ahead of us. 40 minutes into the climb, the team of Koles/Brown overtook us. We exchanged encouragement as they passed, but inside, I was disappointed. I wanted second. The problem was, I could only go so fast--I could barely match Brian's pace on tow. Even worse, Kroger/Taam were visibly closing in on us. Brian said, "I guess 4th would be ok too." As if I had control over the matter, I said, "no way."

For the next hour, we gutted it out. We needed food, but we didn't have any. Every step was difficult. I began making some weird growling/grunting noise with each step. The gap between us in 3rd and Kroger/Taam in 4th seemed to hold as did the gap between Koles/Brown in 2nd. All of us were suffering, but none of us would let up. It was a moment of pure competition. It was also a moment of self discovery. Would we, could we push through?

In the end, we did. About 25 meters from the top of the climb, we overtook the Koles/Brown team. With snot all over Brian's face and me screaming bloody murder, we topped out, ripped skins and secured our 2nd place finish. Didn't I tell you to take note of the snot and expressions?

Dumb and Dumber?

Brian Harder and Jared Inouye finishing at the Power of Four Photo Credit: B Wick

Skis and Picks: The Great White Icicle

2011-02-28T13:14:00.000-07:00

3 feet of powder? Canyon is closed? What? Boo... I'm going to walk a few miles up Little Cottonwood Canyon and ski some ice.

From 2011-02-27

The Great White Icicle

From 2011-02-27

Bart dodging my chunks.

From 2011-02-27

Andy with frozen hands.

From 2011-02-27

And forced to ski some pow.

From 2011-02-27

Bart "skiing" pitch 2. For the record, I "ski-rapped" this pitch because I thought it would be fun to keep my skis on the whole time. I don't see "ski-rapping" making any sort of a popularity surge in the near future.

From 2011-02-27

Grand Teton Attempt

2011-02-17T11:33:00.000-07:00

The Grand Teton

We both were silent. The Teepee pillar loomed above us. And even bigger than that loomed the Grand Teton. We were sitting at 12,200 feet. My skis were stuck into the snow vibrating, chattering together in the wind. The base of the Stettner was a stone's throw away, but it looked dangerous. . . . More at the Whiteroom.

The Notch > S. Thunder > N. Thunder > Dresden > Coalpit

2011-02-13T20:14:00.001-07:00

With the nice weather window we've had, I was anxious to link up some peaks and good ski lines. Jason Dorais and Adam OK, both who are practitioners of the Go Light Go Far discipline, joined me for the action. Our plan for the day to climb Lone Peak via Bells and ski the Northeast chute and eventually end up at the Coalpit, where we dropped a car. Our approach from LCC road to the base of Lone Peak took about 2 hours. Here is Jason with Lone Peak in his sights:

From 2011-02-13

There are easier ways to approach and climb Lone Peak, but I've always been intrigued with climbing the chute to the distinctive notch on far looker's right in the photo below (what I call the "Notch Couloir"). From below, the ridge from Notch Couloir looks like a fairly direct and skinnable line to the summit.

From 2011-01-30

For me, Lone Peak is the grandest in the Wasatch. I've nearly driven off the road (a few times) as I've stared at it from the valley. Hence, yet another view.

From 2011-02-13

I thought that climbing the Notch Couloir would give us a good sense of the NE Couloir's conditions, and it did. The bottom half was filled with decent compacted snow. The top half was a slick ice sheet that had expelled the month's snow onto the bottom half. Ever optimistic, we climbed the ice crusted chute to the top and then got scared and schooled by the exposure and the rock moves required to get up the notch. Here is Adam topping out:

From 2011-02-13

And Jason standing on top of a big cliff above Big Willow:

From 2011-02-13

The headwall at the top of the Notch contained some softer windblown, which we skied. It was steep! As I booted down the icy section, I knew that we wouldn't be skiing the NE Couloir today. The apron was nice though.

From 2011-02-13

Having just been kicked off Lone Peak, and having a lot more daylight left, we struck out for South Thunder. Here is a shot of its northeast aspect.

From 2011-02-13

From there, we traversed the top of S Thunder Bowl and to the rim of N Thunder Bowl, and dropped in.

From 2011-02-13

We crossed N Thunder Bowl, and then took the non-direct, dumb, sugary, steep route to the top of North Thunder. The crux involved a belly crawl, a bush, and Whippet aid.

From 2011-02-13

I put crampons on to traverse the icy rocky ridge towards the Coalpit entrance, and we found ourselves looking down the Dresden Face.

From 2011-02-13

The Dresden Face is pictured below. The photo is Adam's, taken from his blog TetonsandWasatch.com.

For Jason and I, the line was nice and soft. Apparently, for Adam (he dropped in lookers left, depicted above), not so much. FYI, there are two cliff bands on the face that I don't consider skiable. With the icy conditions, we used extra caution as we approached them, and were able to skirt both of them without much problem.

At the bottom of Hogum, we said goodbye to Adam, and Jason and I began the climb to Coalpit. Jason and I ran out of water before we descended the face, which was about 2:30 or so. I sucked on snow and ice chunks to try to get by, but it was a thirsty climb to the top of the Coalpit. Fortunately for us, there was a nice skinner and booter in.

From 2011-02-13

Jason on top of Coalpit with 9900 vertical in his legs and about to ski a long long line.

From 2011-02-13

Fun day. I got sunburned.

The Speed Board: Y Couloir

2011-02-10T14:28:00.001-07:00

After Skimo Nationals, I kind of lost some motivation to train. In the battle between me (who was in favor of training) and myself (who was not), I thought that one way to make training a little more interesting would be to do speed runs at some of the more popular lines in the Wasatch. And because want to promote speed ascents/traverses and the like (and because I'm vain), I thought I would create the "Speed Board."

A couple weeks ago, I made a speed run at the Pfeif, but I lost visibility and bailed on the knife edge ridge leading up to it. Today, I made a run at the Y Couloir. I had planned to do some boring intervals at the resort, but Chad convinced me to join him in the Y, AND he offered to get there early to break trail for me! How could anyone pass that up?

For a solid 2300 feet, I was able to follow a nice booter put in by Chad and a couple other dudes. After that, Chad and I traded pulls, but it was slower going, especially towards the top where there was a nice bloody-shin crust on top of some bothersome sugar.

From Y Couloir

In 4WD mode -- Whippets and boots churning -- my hands got really cold, which is why I am making this face:

From Y Couloir

Anyway, here are the stats:

1:18:25 from car to top. Trail was broken for a good portion of the way, with some rough trail breaking at the end. I think it could be done in under an hour if there is a good booter in, like there is now. Go for it!

1:38 car to car*. *Paused the stopwatch at the top for a bit of socializing with Chad.

3508 feet climbed, same descended.

Gear: DyNA Boots, Low Techs, Trab World Cups, CAMP pack with avy gear, Montbell Thermawrap, and my own personal trail breaker.

Triangle Couloir and La Sportiva RT Bindings

2011-02-06T19:17:00.000-07:00

training ground for the day

top belay station

me ducking some spindrift

I've started contributing to La Sportiva's Whiteroom, a blog dedicated to backcountry skiing and ski mountaineering. I just posted a trip report from a recent outing in the Triangle Couloir. You can check it out here.

That Was Then

2011-02-03T20:18:00.000-07:00

I was rummaging in my basement and found these: Voile Snakeskins.

From Downloads

What are they? That's a good question. They were touted as climbing "skins," but they didn't work so well. I bought my first pair over 15 years ago because I didn't want to spend money on mohair. Mohair works much better than slick siped plastic.

I also found these:

From Downloads

What are they? Another good question. They are first generation heel risers to make skinning uphill a bit easier. Before climbing bars were integrated into bindings, we strapped sawed off PVC pipe on our leather boots to serve that purpose. The purple ones pictured above are the manufactured kind. They dangled around your ankles when you skied and skinned. And when you hit an incline, you strapped them under your foot. They worked about 25 percent of the time.

Evolution of backcountry ski gear in the last 15 years is impressive. In this time period, I have gone from three pins and leather to Chouinard cables to various telemark bindings (Rivas, Superloops, Hammerheads) to Dynafits and beyond :).

Fifteen years ago, the gear choice for hardcore ski mountaineers was severely limited -- practically non-existent. Descents of high mountain peaks with a free heel was tantamount to suicide. Although I'm sure there were some who attempted and succeeded on this kind of gear, most of the hardcore descents were probably being done on full alpine gear. For example, Johnstone and M. Newcomb's first descent of the Hossack MacGowan couloir on the Grand Teton was done on full alpine gear. That meant that they had to carry at least 20, and probably close to 30, pounds of skis and boots on their back! That doesn't include their other mountaineering gear. Any person capable of that deserves a lot of respect.

Today, backcountry gear has evolved to a point where it is essentially ski mountaineering gear, and very useful. Anyone can have a fully capable ski mountaineering setup that weighs 10 pounds, or even less. You can skin on this gear and climb on this gear, options some of the early ski mountaineering pioneers never had. This gear with the right pilot can handle the toughest of ski lines. With these huge advancements in gear, it stands to reason that today in 2011, much more is possible.

North Thunder via Bells out Coalpit

2011-01-29T22:04:00.001-07:00

This morning, Brother Sam, Chad, and I toured from Wasatch Blvd., up Bells Canyon, through Thunder Bowl, and to the top of North Thunder Mountain. Then we skied the Coalpit. Great tour!

From 2011-01-30

Teaching Hiro to Ski: Lesson 1

2011-01-19T21:54:00.001-07:00

Hiro, my youngest son, turned 2 yrs old a couple months ago. For Christmas, he got a pair of ski boots, size 14.5 mondo. As far as I can tell, no one makes boots smaller than that. He can stick his little foot into the boot without unbuckling it. And he does that quite often. Lately, several times a day. Then he clomps around the house. At least he doesn't sleep in them -- something he did when he got them. I think the toes of everyone in the house have been stepped on by Hiro and his ski boots.

Given his enthusiasm for the boots, I assumed he would be equally enthusiastic to ski. Plus he talked a good game, telling Bart that he was going to go ski with him. But when the actual moment came and I latched him into his little skis he freaked out a little bit. And since Christmas, he hasn't been willing to entertain the thought of skiing. Just boots. The sight of skis causes him to wrinkle his face and cry a bit.

However, this week, we had a breakthrough moment and as of yesterday, Hiro has decided that boots and skis go well together. So, tonight we had our first ski lesson -- dryland training, on carpet. Here is a video (I am "daddy" and "Buster" is Hiro's nickname):

My other two kids, Ethan and Miya, both started skiing at 2ish or 3. I'm definitely not a pro at teaching kids, but here are the steps we have generally followed and that seem to work:

Step 1: The Tow I've found that towing the kids around initially and letting them get the feel of having their feet bound down and sliding on snow (or carpet) is a good way to start.

Step 2: The Pizza Slice Once they are comfortable and happy being towed, we take it to the next level: the "Pizza Slice," which with an edgy-wedgy is quite easy for a little person. All he or she has to do is step outwards.

Step 3: The Harness I have a harness made by Lucky Bums that has worked well. I've yet to try it on Hiro, but I will soon. With the harness on, I can control which direction they go, and stop them if necessary. At first, I use the harness a lot to control them, but soon enough, they pick up the snow plow.

Step 4: The Turn I struggle with teaching my kids to turn. They like to just go straight. But, one way that is effective is to simply reach one arm up into the sky. I ski in front and we play follow the leader with me raising my arm and the child doing the same thing, causing him or her to turn.

Step 5: Ditching the Edgy-Wedgys Depending on the kid, this may be hard, or it may be insignificant. With my daughter, I found that her 3 year old legs weren't strong enough to keep a snow plow without the assistance of edgy wedgies. Some instructors say that edgy wedgies are evil, but I think that for small children they work miracles. So, my thinking is, use them until the kid doesn't need them anymore.

I think Hiro is ready for the Harness. We'll see.

'Twas Not to Be

2011-01-16T15:59:00.001-07:00

One of my objectives this year was to make the 2011 US Ski Mountaineering Team. To qualify I needed to do well at a series of races, held Jan 8 (Nationals at Jackson), Jan 9 (Targhee), and January 14th (Sunlight, CO). And I'm sorry to say that I didn't do well enough at Jackson, skipped Targhee, and couldn't get it done at Sunlight. So, no US Team for me this year.

At Jackson, I was flu-ish, but was drawn there because I didn't want to miss the largest gathering of skimo racers in the sport's history. It was exciting and inspiring to line up with a multitude of skimo racers on US snow, and confirmed to me how much I like the sport.

(Photo Credit: Powder Mag)

Unfortunately, I couldn't match the high output of the race's leaders, and lost the lead group early on in the race. I ended up finishing 15th or so, way out of consideration for the US Team.

I skipped Targhee, hoping that I could take that time and use it to recover for Sunlight. While I think it helped, by the time Sunlight came around, I hadn't gotten rid of the chest congestion and pesky cough that has been plaguing me since Christmas. I went anyway, hoping for a break. During the Sunlight race, there were a few times when I was with the qualifying group or when the qualifying group was within striking distance, but I had a rough time breathing. Then, at a critical moment during the 2nd descent, my right boot broke.

From 1.16.11

With some prodding by Scheefer, I decided that I would plod along and finish the race as fast I could. My skinsuit held the top of the boot to my leg, but it was floppy on both the up and the down. And on the 3rd climb, I knew that my chances of making the team were gone. As I postholed with one foot and skinned on the other (since I had lost a skin and didn't want to bother putting a new one on) into the last major descent, I had to laugh at the sorry shape I was in: lungs heaving, postholing with one leg, sliding on the other leg with a broken boot, and carrying a ski in one hand, and a iced up, crusty skin in the other hand. That sorry picture should have been a signal to me, but I kept going.

The last leg of the race turned into a rally against Andy. And in a moment of poor judgment, I tried to nip Andy at the finish line. I failed, and instead crashed into a static, steel, ski rack. Perhaps my broken boot had something to do with that. The crash resulted in me getting strapped and taped to a backboard, taken to the hospital in an ambulance (while taped to a backboard, which is more uncomfortable than crashing into a steel ski rack), examined, x-rayed, and then released. The final diagnosis was muscle strain, but no broken neck. Phew!

From 1.16.11

Photo by Andy.

Of course, I'm disappointed that I missed making the team, but the fact is that I'm not performing at the level of those who made it on the team. It's unfortunate that I trained hard and was on a good trajectory, but then lost a chunk of fitness due to illness, right when I needed it the most. But, to mix metaphors: that's the way the slope fractures.

And now, time to focus on my kids, my yard, and some wild speed ascents and traverses.

I Am a Human Petri Dish

2010-12-29T16:32:00.001-07:00

For the last three weeks, I've been walking a fine line. Kind of like, I've been on an old rickety bus, hanging on for dear life, and hoping the wheels would stay on -- just so I could make it around the bend. Three weeks ago, while in Canada, I caught a cold, which turned into a sinus infection. Just when I thought I had it beat (and therefore went and did some hard workouts), it came back, with a new twist.

Last Tuesday, I woke up, having a plan to drive up to Brighton and do 8 VO2 intervals. VO2 intervals are hard, and mentally, it's hard to get psyched about them, just as it's hard to get psyched about putting a plastic bag over your head and then running up a mountain as fast as you can. I staggered to the bathroom and stood there. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and it was an exact reflection of how I felt: tired, maybe even a bit haggard, eyes a bit sunken in, and not very motivated to do intervals. I stood there a bit longer, torn between the guilt of not wanting to train and wanting to climb back in bed. I walked to the closet to get dressed and picked up some Capilene. Then I walked back to the mirror and stood there again. Then I got back in bed and sent a text to my friends: "My sinus infection is worse. I'm not going out this morning. Sorry." And I went back to sleep.

Thursday (12/23), I was feeling better (although not completely healed) and had one of the best interval sessions of my life -- climbing, at times, at 80 feet per minute, and not feeling all that maxed out. I guess I was well rested. Psyched that I was feeling better, I pushed it hard on Friday (12/24). But after 4000 vertical, I felt something was off and shut it down. Too late though.

By Sunday (12/26), I had caught a new bug, and it was worse than the 3 or 4 bugs I have had in the last three weeks. I only know that because I have been knocked out, laid out, and feeling sorry for myself since then. It's been the full meal deal with aches, congestion, cough, etc.

And so, the wheels on the bus have officially fallen off. They rolled on down the road, and I'm left sitting here laying on my couch writing a blog about it.

Training is all about stretching the body's limits, forcing it to compensate and adjust. But when you stretch too much, like anything, the body will snap, and rebel, and get sick a lot. In hindsight, I should have taken a long rest after Canada and fully recuperated. Instead, being a bit too greedy and too obsessive, I thought I could push it and train through the sickness, and then get recuperated in the weeks leading up to the big race. And in doing so, I became a very effective human petri dish.

Training Log: December 12 to December 18

2010-12-18T21:53:00.001-07:00

After feeling awesome in Canada a couple weeks ago, I caught a nasty cold that put my training on hold for a week. This week, I felt progressively better, albeit a bit tired. I still have something funky going on in the sinuses, but I think I'm getting closer to being healthy again.

With Nationals coming soon, I'm focusing on threshold type efforts and muscular endurance. With a pretty tough work week, I was able to squeeze in about 10 hrs of training and 17,300 vertical. Here is a summary of my efforts:

Today, Jon, Tim, Jason, Andy, Graham, Bart, and I had a little "Fun Rando" gathering in Little Cottonwood. We set a 1000 vertical foot course up with a mini-booter, and ran 4 laps. The first one was breaking trail in a blizzard. After that, the weather cleared a bit, and we were able to burn 3 laps, giving us 3 solid 15 minute threshold efforts.

Here is the time/altitude graph:

And my corresponding HR:

One more week of hard training, and then I'm going to start tapering down.

Ski Touring on Rogers Pass

2010-12-08T17:33:00.000-07:00

I've had a man-crush on Greg Hill for a long time. Greg might take a bit of flak for being a self-promoter, but his publicized adventures have been a source of inspiration for me. Thanks. For that reason, I was excited to ski at Rogers Pass -- an area that Greg frequents -- and to get a glimpse of the mountains and skiing possibilities in that area.

Monday at the Pass greeted us with bluebird skies. Reiner Thoni of Revelstoke and the winner of the 2010 Selkirk Classic, joined a Salt Lake motley crew of me, the Dorais bros., and Bart (the token white guy), along with a Jackson trio of Cary Smith, Zahan, and Nate Brown.

Reiner, rocking the Team Canada skinsuit on a Rogers Pass Tour:

From 2010-12-07

Most of the crew skinning up a ridge to 8812 Bowl (the massive pyramid peak in the background is Sir Donald and hasn't been skied):

From 2010-12-07

Photo credit: Bart

Nate Brown bringing some "style" to the backcountry with jewel-studded shades and a bit of skin:

From 2010-12-07

We spent the first few hours and 6k of the day skiing Video Peak and the 8812 Bowl, both popular runs at Rogers Pass. From the tops of these runs, we saw lot of mountains, glaciers, and ski potential. Unless skiing and adventure got old, that area of the world could hold a person's attention for a long long time.

From 2010-12-07

8812

From 2010-12-07

Video Peak

From 2010-12-07

And a view of both from Mt. Cheops:

From 2010-12-07

At the bottom of 8812, we said goodbye to the Jackson Trio who had to go home, and headed up to Balu Pass and Mt. Cheops. One of the striking features of the mountains at Rogers Pass is the relief. As a point of reference, SLC sits at around 4500 feet. So does Rogers Pass. Here is Cheops:

From 2010-12-07

We tagged the Cheops summit, skied down to the shoulder, and entered into a couple of chutes.

From 2010-12-07

Photo credit: Bart

The one that I chose, with Bart's assurance that it "went," cliffed out. We booted back out and skied a nice run down to the valley to meet our other compadres. From there, we skinned up and went back up to Balu Pass, trying to squeeze out 1500 vertical to make it a 10k day. We got about 1350 feet, and that was more than good enough. Celebration - 9850 vertical feet, some classic Rogers Pass runs, and getting dark fast:

From 2010-12-07

Selkirk Classic

2010-12-06T21:56:00.001-07:00

Andy, Bart, Jason, and I traveled north, far north, to attend the Selkirk Classic, a race put on by Golden Alpine Holidays. We got ourselves to the town of Golden, British Columbia and then GAH flew us to the Meadow Hut in the Esplanades where the race was held. The view on the flight in was astounding:

From 2010-12-05

The expanse of the Canadian Rockies makes the Wasatch, well,a bit small.

From 2010-12-05

We arrived at the Meadows Hut on Saturday and GAH guide -- "Russ" -- gave us a nice preview of the race course, and more importantly, the Esplanades.

From 2010-12-05

Although the high pressure created an inversion and overcast skies in the valleys (which sit at about 2000 feet), above the inversion, the weather was perfect and afforded us 360 views of the Selkirks.

From 2010-12-05

On Sunday, for the race, we had great weather again. Because of the logistical issues, the race was capped at 14 racers. Several racers from the US were able to attend as well as racers from the Canadian National Team. At 9:00 am, we lined up in our skinny suits, and we were off. Unfortunately, because I was frothing at the mouth and staring at a skin track, I have no pictures.

On the first climb, a group of five or so got off the front and summited about the same time. Me and the BG were in that group. Unfortunately, several in that group crashed on the bony first descent, giving me and Reiner a slight gap. At the transition at the bottom of the first descent, Reiner got out first, and held the lead until the end.

Finishing order went something like this:

Reiner Thoni
Me
Cary Smith
Bart
Pete Swenson
Andrew McNabb
Andy Dorais
Melanie Bernier
Zahan Billamoria
Nate Brown
Jason Dorais

I was happy with the way my race went. The pressure was on the whole time, and I feel like my training this summer and fall is kicking in.

More than anything, it was fun racing in a new and unique venue. The course was very "Euro" in that it was 100 percent in the backcountry with some fun skinning. We were all very impressed with GAH and their hospitality, and as you can see above, the terrain blew us away. Future home of a North American Pierra Menta?

For Sale: BCA Float 30 Pack '09-'10

2010-11-23T13:55:00.000-07:00

$500 -- Comes will full canister. Has not been deployed (yet).

Training Log: November 7 to November 13

2010-11-13T20:16:00.000-07:00

Sunday: 2.5 hrs, 10 miles, 4200 ft. Easy. Ran Grandeur Loop.

Monday: Rest

Tuesday: 2 hrs, 3200 ft. 60 min of threshold; easy rest of the time. Skied at Snowbird with Bart, Tom, and Quinn. Fat skis (95 at waist, yeah), broke trail.

Wednesday: 1:15, 7.5 miles, 1000 ft. Easy. Foothill run.

Thursday: Intended to do interval session, but the alarm went off and I pulled the covers over my head. Worried about making a sinus infection worse.

Friday: 1.5 hrs, 2950 ft, 8x4 intervals at my hill on Alta. Was slower than last week. Max HR 181.

Saturday: 4.5 hrs, 5750 ft. 3x20 subthreshold to threshold. Easy the rest of the time. Burned a lap up Hidden Peak at Snowbird, then met Brother Aaron, Billy D., Jeremy, and Walt for some action in Cardiff and off the Black Knob.

Total: 11.75 hrs, 17,100 vertical.

My Feet and Trail Shoes: And the Winner is . . .

2010-11-10T16:09:00.000-07:00

A few months ago, I posted about "My Feet and Trail Shoes" and it has been the most-viewed post on this blog. Weird. Weird because I would think things like the WURLOS or Uintas Traverse or Skimo would be more interesting, but no; it's my ugly feet and their promiscuity with trail shoes. In my previous post, I hadn't yet formed any solid conclusions, but now, after a solid 6 months of trail running, I have. Here they are:

1. Minimalist Shoes Hurt My Feet. There isn't a universally accepted definition of minimalist shoes, but I consider shoes with little to no arch support, minimal cushion, and a very low heel to toe drop to be minimalist, i.e. Five Fingers, New Balance MT 100, Inov8 Talon 212. I like the lightness and nimbleness of these shoes. Unfortunately, after 35 years of bondage, my feet are not strong enough to run in them all the time, on any terrain, for long distances. Most of the summer, the my feet were bruised, my arches hurt and ached a lot. I thought I had plantar facsciitis. I probably ate an unhealthy dose of Ibuprofen to mitigate.

But I continued to run in wimpy flimsy shoes. I ran the Wasatch Steeplechase, the Jupiter Steeplechase, and the Speedgoat in Inov8s. I did it because I thought it was cool and that they made me faster. I did it because they helped me adjust my running technique. And because of the latter, the price in pain and discomfort was worth it, well worth it. In hindsight, however, I probably could have also used some more supportive shoes to ease the pain and discomfort.

2. Trail Shoes Must be Sized Big and Not Tied Too Tight. Many people have told me this, but I guess I didn't know that trail shoes need to be THAT big and THAT loose. After I finished the Jupiter Steeplechase, I couldn't walk for a week and had to take an additional 2 weeks off before I could run normally again. Why? Because my shoes were tied too tight and my shoes were too small. I thought that the key to preventing blisters and toe bang was to tighten the laces down. I was wrong. For me, the key is to have what I consider a very loose fit.

3. And the Winner is? My favorite most comfy shoe that I have run in thus far, and continue to run in, and will continue to run in for awhile (I ordered 3 pair), is the Montrail Rockridge.

Initially, I was skeptical. In fact, I returned a pair before I actually bought one for keeps. It's not a sexy shoe like the Crosslite. There isn't anything uniquely special about it like the Hokas. The heel to toe drop is a bit high at 10mm. They look quite ordinary. Yet, after a short break-in period, my feet are quite happy in these shoes. They are amply cushioned, have a bit of arch support, and allow me to run down the rocky and rough Wasatch trails with more confidence and comfort than I do in other shoes. My only complaints with these shoes are durability (the soles wear out fast) and the laces are too short.

I will continue to run in minimalist shoes every once in a while in order to refine technique and because it is the cool thing to do. But the Rockridge is my go to shoe for now.

Training Log: October 31 to November 6

2010-11-06T21:56:00.002-06:00

Sunday: Nothing.

Monday: 2.5 hrs, 60 min threshold, 4000 feet, Alta -- up to Baldy shoulder, down, top, main chute.

Tuesday: 1:50, easy 2400 feet, Alta, Baldy main with brother Jordan

Wednesday: 1 hr, easy run

Thursday: 1:30, 6 x 4ish intervals, 24 min of VO2, 2600 feet, Alta

Friday: 1 hr, easy run, 500 feet

Saturday: 5 hrs 10 min, easy, 7200 feet, went for a long walk and found and skied this:

From November 6. 2010

Great day to be out. Didn't see anyone. Recrystallized pow and November Corn!?!?

Total: 13 hrs, 16,700 vert feet

One of the keys to training -- so I've been told -- is going slow enough so that you can go fast when you have to. This week I focused on getting a lot of low intensity/level 1 time in so that I could get the most out of my high intensity workouts. More often than not, when interval day comes around, I'm too tired and too fatigued to get a quality workout. And doing intervals in this state certainly doesn't make me faster and probably makes me slower. Part of the problem is that I have limited time and when I'm out training, I want to make the most of it. Another part of the problem is that I get impatient and don't like to go slow. But what I have come to learn is that "making the most" of training doesn't always mean pummeling myself all of the time. "Making the most" of training means pummeling myself on the days I'm supposed to do that, and on the other days, training in a way that allows me to pummel myself on the days I'm supposed to do that, i.e., go easy.

It's tough to put this principle in practice, but I'm going with it. "You've got to trust your training." -- Billy D.

Training Log: October 24 to October 30 -- SNOW!!

2010-11-01T17:00:00.000-06:00

I was able to get the first on-snow training of the year this week. It went down (and up) something like this:

Sunday: Nothing.

Monday: 2500 vert, 2 hrs, 45 minutes threshold, rest of the time easy/whatever. Went up the gut of Baldy Main Chute and back down with Bart and Andy. Rock skis -- BD Havocs with Dynafit toe pieces only. :)

Tuesday: 2500 vert, 1.5 hrs, 10 minutes of VO2, 15 minutes at threshold, rest of the time easy/whatever. Baldy Main again with Andy. Rock skis -- BD Havocs again (and still not enough time to remount heelpiece).

Wednesday: 3000 vert, 2.5 hrs, easy peasy. Baldy Main and shoulder with Billy and Jeremy, and as always, they gave me some valuable training advice. Manaslus. Jeremy made a little video: http://gallery.me.com/jteela/100316.

Thursday: nuthin -- stomach flu

Friday: 3000 vert, 2 hrs, 30 minutes threshold, rest easy. Baldy Main and up to Collins.First day on race skis.

Saturday: 5 mile run around neighborhood, easy. Brother Sam's wedding.

Total: About 11k vert and 9 hrs.

I consider this somewhat of a transition week. I think the mountain running has helped, but skiing is certainly a different motion. Of note is the strain it puts on the hip flexors, inner groin, and lower back. Oh, and the DH? Ouch. Looking forward to getting faster on skis.

Training Log: October 17 to 23

2010-10-25T14:22:00.000-06:00

I fell off of the wagon . . .

Monday: Rode bike to work, ran home. 6 miles easy.

Tuesday: Grandeur West, up and down, 6 miles, Threshold (over under) effort. Wasn't feeling good, so to motivate myself, went from a 2 x 20 threshold effort to a 30 on 30 off effort for 30 minutes.

Wednesday: 2 miles easy. Knee is injured. Needed to back off to aid recovery. Plus, it hurt.

Thursday: 2 miles easy.

Friday through Sunday: I moved. One decent effort from 4:30 to 11:00 pm on Friday. Sustainable pace with a few hard efforts thrown in from 9:00 am to 7:00 pm on Saturday. Sustainable pace with a couple bonks from 9:30 am to 4:00 pm on Sunday and then again from 6 pm to 10 pm on Sunday. My eating habits will surely have a reverse effect on any fitness gains I have made this month: pizza, chinese food, pizza, chocolate cake, strawberry shortcake, a bag of wasabi peas, candy . . . Thoroughly and totally blown. Thanks to those who came and helped.

Looking forward to being on snow!!!

Training Log: Oct 2 to Oct 16

2010-10-17T19:41:00.001-06:00

Skimo training continues.

I rested from October 3 to October 10. On that week, I did a few short (under 3 miles) runs, and Deseret Peak (8 miles, 4000 vertical) -- nothing too stressful. I focused on recovery and got some body work done. The body work helped me loosen up after a summer of mountain running.

Last week, from October 11 to October 16, I put in a solid block. My intent is to build both volume (time and vertical) and intensity. I put in three intensity sessions in this week, one of which involved two consecutive time trials to the top of Hidden Peak. I am happy with how my body is responding to these efforts -- it seems to recover quite quickly, which is a indication of a decent base. I have to be careful to be patient and not ramp up too fast. There still isn't any snow!! Also, today my knee hurts from my Hidden Peak TT yesterday. Maybe I should have ridden the Tram down. I might have to do some biking this week.

Here is my log from last week:

Monday: Easy trot for 1 hr up and 1/2 down on Olympus trail. 5 miles, 2542 feet.

Tuesday: Grandeur Loop. Threshold effort up (49:49). Easy after. 10 miles, 4360 feet.

Wednesday: Easy run in the neighborhood. 5 miles. No significant vertical.

Thursday: Intervals on Grandeur with weight (backpack stuffed with climbing rope). 4 x 4-5 min. 3 miles, 1860 feet.

Friday: Easy run to work, bike back. 7 miles in, 6 miles back. No significant vertical.

Saturday: Snowbird TT from tram dock to Hidden Peak (patrol hut), twice. Threshold effort on the up, easy on the down. 13.5 miles. About 5700 vertical. 52:48 to the top the first time, 56:38 the second time.

Totals for 10/11 to 10/16: 43.5 miles, 14,462 vertical.

In Memory of Ben

2010-10-13T22:23:00.001-06:00

From Ben

Ben Jacobsen's fight with cancer ended today. I was very sad to hear the news. His passing made me think on some dawn patrols we had. The last one I recall was in January 2009. It was a powder day, and we skinned to the top of Neffs. At the top, we were treated to this view of Lone Peak.

From Ben

Because we were so happy to be out, after one run off the top, we skinned up to the base of Triangle Peak, and then dropped off into North Fork. Ben knew that this wasn't the sensible option, but he was a good sport -- even after the non-sensible option nearly ruined an otherwise-good powder day. Our run into North Fork pretty much sucked. I think we kicked off a sizable avalanche. Ben and I dug our edges into the hill watched a cloud of snow sift through the trees. We looked at each other wide-eyed, then laughed it off. We were happy to be alive. To make things worse, we missed the only good exit out (an elk trail) and ended up performing a massive bushwhack. To this day I can't remember one worse. After a while, it became a situation of every man for himself, along with a situation of get out of here as fast as you can. I skied straight to the car. A few minutes Jon came along. Ben took a bit longer (I attribute that to his telemark gear), and we almost left him. But we didn't, and all ended up being several hours late to work.

I'm glad I got to ski with Ben. I will miss him.

Ben (in yellow) at the base of Triangle Peak, getting ready for a nice adventure. Just before this, we gave him grief about wearing white women's ski gloves.

From Ben

Ben hopping a rock in Idaho:

From Ben

Until then . . .

From Ben

Note: Some of Ben's friends organized a cycling team for Ben -- Team Firestorm, which is selling Firestorm jerseys. Proceeds go to Ben's family. Let me know if you're interested.

Deseret Peak

2010-10-09T21:36:00.002-06:00

From 2010-10-09

Deseret what?? I thought that I was well-versed in the Wasatch, but I had no clue where Deseret Peak was. Quickly, I Googled it: in the Stansbury range, about 11k, in a designated Wilderness area, less than 1 hr away from the city. Since it was clearly a win-win-win, I responded "yes" to the email. I'd get to meet and run with some new people, I'd get to run a new trail, and I'd get to do some ski recon.

I. The New People:

Jay, Darcie, and Brian descending Deseret Peak.

From 2010-10-09

George through the mist.

From 2010-10-09

Brian, Jay, and Greg on the Summit.

From 2010-10-09

II. The New (to me) Trail

Not sure exactly what the name of the trail was, but we ran a counter-clockwise loop that ascended and descended Deseret Peak. A cloud hung over the summit. It had snowed earlier and there was a fall rime on the trees.

From 2010-10-09

III. Ski Recon

Oh yeah . . . .

From 2010-10-09

The entrance:

From 2010-10-09

Coyotes in Red Pine, Pfeif, White Baldy

2010-10-05T21:55:00.001-06:00

Saturday morning I was feeling pretty beat, but wanted to cap off a good building block. So I got in the car and ended up at the White Pine trailhead. I ran up to Red Pine lake and heard a pack of what I think were coyotes yipping away. They went to town for about a minute, then I never heard them again. I recorded part of the session though:

From there, I went up to make offerings (for family, miscellaneous blessings, and snow) on the Pfeif:

From 2010-10-03

And then traversed the ridge to the top of White Baldy. Some parts of the ridge were runnable. Other parts were pretty scrambly.

From 2010-10-03

I didn't choose well dropping into White Pine, and ended up getting a bit of unanticipated free solo action. I found some snow though:

From 2010-10-03

Build 1

2010-10-04T11:49:00.001-06:00

I'm about 5 weeks into my skimo training program. "Training program" is a term I use loosely, but generally, it involves a few training periods with the objective of being at peak fitness in January. I had a pretty moderate summer as far as intensity and racing goes. I did a few trail running races in hopes that my body wouldn't forget how to work hard. But for the most part, my objective was to maintain fitness (and learn how to run, but that's another story . . . ).

Beginning on August 30th, I entered into a "build" phase. My objective during this phase was to build aerobic fitness and to increase efficiency at threshold. Thus, intensity-wise, it involved several rounds of effort at or below threshold (for me, 162-172 bpm) and a lot of aerobic time (for me, 135-140 bpm). In an ideal world, I would be able to train on skis. However, since there is no snow around, my activity of choice has primarily been mountain running, with a bit of biking mixed in. I've found mountain running to be a good substitute for on-snow training. The motion of climbing steep mountains, sometimes with poles, is very similar to skinning. I think it will require less transition time than biking. Hopefully, it will translate well.

Here is a short summary of Build 1:

I'm going to rest this week, and then enter into another Build Phase. Hopefully, the snow is not too far away.

Fall Dawn Patrol

2010-09-30T20:55:00.001-06:00

I've been enjoying the fall, getting as many mountain miles and as much vertical in as I can. The weather this fall has been too good. Last year on this day I was getting ready to go skiing. Though snow will be welcome, I'm not at all desperate for it if I continue to have days like today.

This morning Jon, Tom and I "ran" to the Salt Lake Twin Peaks via Broads. We started at the S Curves, which is about 6200 feet and climbed to 11,200 feet. Because I was leading the way, we got off-route and ended up going up Bonkers, and then scrambled up the ridge to Twin. It certainly wasn't the conventional route, but it was quite fun. From car to summit was a bit under 2 hours.

Luckily I had my camera along this morning, and got some nice shots.

Tom above Bonkers at first light.

From 2010-10-01

The light on the Big Cottonwood quartzite was warm and inspiring.

From 2010-10-01

As you ski Bonkers this winter, remember, this is what the snow rests on.

From 2010-10-01

Jon on the scree field.

From 2010-10-01

Tom scrambling near the Diving Board with O'Sullivan and Drom in the background.

From 2010-10-01

Following the ridge to the summit.

From 2010-10-01

Jon's morning jog.

From 2010-10-01

I didn't have my Whippets to jam into my favorite crack here.

From 2010-10-01

Bonkers on the right. Twin on the left.

From 2010-10-01

Great day in the mountains.

Speedgoat 50k: An Ultra Runner I Am Not . . . Yet

2010-08-03T17:48:00.000-06:00

Every so often, the body needs a good thrashing. If I were to place some of my adventures on a thrashing scale, with 10 being the highest and 1 being the lowest, I would rate running the Speedgoat 50k a solid 7.5. I would say that it's right up there with long speed ski traverses and epic bike rides. I went into the Speedgoat 50k thinking that it might be my entrance into ultra running. I came out of the Speedgoat 50k thinking two things: (a) ultra running is really hard, and it's going to be awhile before I even can fathom being a real ultra runner, i.e. the kind that runs 100 miles, and (b) that was totally awesome!

The Course

According to my Garmin, the Speedgoat was 31 miles, gained about 11,000 feet, and descended about 11,000 feet. The Speedgoat started at Snowbird, criss-crossed the front side and eventually topped out at Hidden Peak (11,000).

From 2010-08-03

From Hidden Peak, the race went to the top of Baldy, down into Alta, and nearly to the top of Alta's Sugarloaf lift. It then descended sharply into Mineral Basin and down Mary Ellen Gulch and bottomed out somewhere in American Fork Canyon. From there, it climbed back up towards Mineral Basin via Miller Hill. It then took us up Mineral Basin the Peruvian tunnel.

From 2010-08-03

After exiting the Peruvian tunnel on the frontside of Snowbird, the course forced racers to run down before we were able to climb back up to the top of Hidden Peak via the Devil's Backbone. After topping out at Hidden Peak for the second time, the course turned down down down to the start at Entry 1 of Snowbird.

From 2010-08-03

This course was covered in 5:43 by Kevin Schilling. Nick Clark finished a few minutes later. Luke Nelson finished in third.

My Race

All the stats are compiled here. I took 7 hrs and 27 minutes to finish the course. Out of 152 "Billies" and "Nannies," I was 32nd place. I was happy with that result given that I was venturing into some unknown territory -- 31 miles is by far the longest I have ever run. But more importantly, I was happy to simply be out and running in the mountains, with other goats.

At the start, I enjoyed seeing some of the heavy hitters of the sport. Immediately, an elite pack formed at the front. I joined the pack right behind them, and held on as long as I could. While doing so, I was able to meet and chat with other runners. Jared Campbell told me he was going to attempt WATOJA, which is the Wasatch 100 on Friday and LOTOJA on Saturday. Another guy told me that I make a loud thud when I hit the ground. About 7 miles into the race, I was running downhill, caught my toe and went down hard, cutting my hand, scraping my chest, and bruising my hip. Kind of a sucky way to begin a race.

One of my favorite moments of the race was topping out on Hidden Peak the first time (my second favorite moment was topping out the second time because that meant it was all downhill). There were people on top with cowbells and the like cheering. Plaid shirt guy had taken a direct route -- on foot -- up to Hidden Peak and was there to cheer on racers. The sun was peeking over Baldy. It was a nice scene at 11,000 feet.

As I scurried across the ridge to Baldy, I laughed to myself as I watched the guy in fluorescent green scrambling up Baldy. It was Andy Dorais, a partner from the WURLOS ski tour. During the WURLOS, Andy skipped Baldy, and he was finally making it right.

The run down into Mineral Basin wasn't very fun. After I thudded on the ground, I lost my downhill mojo. The blood smeared all over my water bottles was a constant reminder of the thud and a hindrance. The fact that the course plummeted down a scree covered, rutted road didn't help either. Like skiing, it's best to simply "point 'em" on the downhill; if you're tentative, you tend to be too tight, look bad, feel bad, and burn too much energy. I wasn't able to point 'em.

Much to my amazement, when I reached the bottom of Mineral Basin, the course jogged up over a ridge, and then plummeted down another several thousand feet down Mary Ellen Gulch to somewhere in American Fork Canyon. I wasn't able to run these miles confidently, and at the bottom, I face planted again, filling my wounds with black dirt. Ouch. Ouch. And ouch. (I might have been a bit more profane than that in the moment.)

A little over 16 miles into the race, Andy and I hung out for a few moments at the aid station. I washed my wounds and argued with one of the workers over whether I had to do a penalty lap for going off course (for once in my life, I didn't). Andy was lounging in a lawn chair eating popsicles and said he wasn't feeling good; so I left him for dead and kept going.

3 miles after that, I hit my wall, and saw a fluorescent green shirt gaining on me. Soon, Andy passed me, and left me for dead when I stopped to examine some blisters on the ball of my foot. Luckily, I had some new friends to nurse me along. Mark Christopherson and I seemed to be moving at the same pace, and we did some hard miles together. Jared Campbell and Pat McMurty whizzed by, but slowed up long enough to offer me a gel, which I gladly took and which enabled me to get back up to Hidden Peak the second time.

As I was climbing up the Devil's Backbone, I wondered why I was going so slow. At that point I probably had done about 10,000 feet of climbing, which isn't out of the norm during ski season. Why was I feeling so beat? I'm still not sure. It might have to do with the different mechanics of running. It might also have to do with the thrashing my body took running from the top of Snowbird to AF Canyon.

Although my body forced me to go slow, I never was miserable. (For example, the last 20 miles of the Highline Traverse were bloody miserable.) And the whole time I had fun, which was a blessing. Perhaps the novelty of the challenge rendered me blessed. Perhaps it was being on new trails and seeing yet another aspect of the Wasatch. Perhaps it's because I'm born to run . . . HA!

When I got to the top of Hidden Peak, I felt that the race was basically done, which wasn't truly the case. My legs conveyed this to me quite loudly as I hobbled down the trail for the next 5 miles. My pace was in the 10 to 12 min/mile range. And I got passed by several people, two of whom were "Nannies," and three of whom were wearing moon boots. But I didn't care, I had only lost one toenail (I'm down to 5 good ones), was still running, had covered 31 miles, and was going to finish.

Over the last four months, it's been a struggle to become a runner, to cause my body to adapt to the demands of running. I have a long way to go, but I'm finally to a point where I am relatively comfortable, running. Runners often describe their sport as being "pure." They describe feeling "free." As I have a run the Wasatch this summer, I agree.

Project Davos: Nepalese Runners in Switzerland

2010-07-29T19:08:00.001-06:00

In a similar vein of Born to Run (in which Tarahumara runners run the Leadville 100), two Nepalese runners are about to participate in one of Europe's largest ultras. Fascinating I think. Here are some articles about Project Davos: http://www.irunfar.com/tag/project-davos

Alta Run

2010-07-21T23:03:00.003-06:00

Jon, Eric, and I got out this morning for a nice run in the high country. We started at Alta, ran up to Albion basin, up the Catherine trail, down towards Brighton and around Lakes Mary and Martha and to Twin Lakes, up to Solitude, across the Highway to Heaven, up to Fantasy Ridge, to top of East Silver, then to West Silver, across the ridge to Flagstaff, and back down to Alta. It was about 11 miles with 4500 vertical and took us 2 hrs 48 mins. The "run" off Flagstaff was classic -- scree, no trail, and some bushwhacking at the end. I really enjoyed the forest trails between Lake Martha and Twin Lakes. Fun loop.

Jon brought his sweet camera phone and took some pics. Me and Eric running up Albion road with Superior in the background.

Lake Mary.

Running off East Silver.

I think I've decided that my favorite shoes -- the ones that work -- are the Inov8 Roclite 295s.

My Feet and Trail Shoes

2010-07-14T10:55:00.003-06:00

Discovery of the right shoe is important in my decision that I might be born to run. I have, off and on, dabbled in trail running. And fall/spring skiing often requires a good pair of trail shoes. Pre-B2R, I had some Salomon and Montrail shoes. I went from Salomon to Montrail because Montrail was making some shoes -- the Hard Rock and Continental Divide -- that had some big fat heels. I thought that if I had a big fat heel, more cushion, and more support, maybe my chronic ankle problems -- problems that made running prohibitive -- would go away.

Of course, after I read B2R, I realized for the first time in my life that I didn't need to heel strike to run. And so I began my search for the perfect minimalist shoe. I didn't attempt to go barefoot, but I did acquire a pair of those funny looking Vibram Five Fingers.

Vibram Five Fingers (VFF)

A few moments after I got them (I was at work), I put them on and went running. I was in dress pants and a dress shirt when I started, but after short while, I left my dress shirt hanging on a post and kept going, shirtless. I also rolled up my dress pants to my knees. And I proceeded to run up through a neighborhood and then into the foothills. By the time I got into the foothills, I realized in my over-exuberance that I had some blisters. A few moments after that, I realized that they were bleeding. I limped back down to the neighborhood, and once I got on sidewalk and pavement, I removed the VFFs and walked down through an affluent east side neighborhood barefoot, shirtless, and wearing dress pants rolled up to my knees.

My review of VFFs: Not suitable trail running for novices like me. They might make my feet stronger if I do easy runs on grass and the track. Otherwise, they will be great drift boat shoes.

New Balance MT 100
I've related an experience with these below. The first time I ran home from work in these, I DNF'd. In hindsight, my failure was more operator error, rather than shoe error. I was practicing my Tarahumara/Pose/Evolution/Chi (google them) running styles, or trying to at least. Turns out that I was over-emphasizing the forefoot landing and was running on my toes, which strained my Achilles and calf muscles. Also, my body wasn't used to the strains of running. And, I think the MT100s were too small for me. (Initially, I sized running shoes like I sized ski boots. Luke has advised and I have come to believe that a thumbnail length in the toe is the way to go.)

My review of the MT 100s: I'd like to give them another try in a larger size because I think I could like them. They are very light, and they have small heel to toe drop. The heel is only about 12 mm higher than the toe. What prevents me from giving them another shot, however, is the fear that they don't have enough traction for the kinds of trails I frequent and the uppers won't hold me on top of the shoe. Running downhill, I felt like my foot was going to burst through the front of my shoe. Then again, they are good enough for guys like Anton Krupicka . . .

La Sportiva Fireblade
I got this shoe because Karl Meltzer used to endorse them. He now runs in moon boots. Anyway, I also got the Fireblades a bit too small and they hurt my toes on the downhill. Like all La Sportiva shoes, the Fireblades are well-designed and reflect Italian craftsmanship. They also have a small heel-to-toe drop, about 12 mm I think. The toe box was sufficient and the heel cup was nice. The things that have prevented me from trying to get a better size and seeing if I can make them work is (a) I feel like there isn't enough cushion in the sole, (b) the sole is a bit stiff, and (b) I like knobbier traction. I think I could very well grow out of these concerns as I get more trail running experience and better form.

La Sportiva Wildcat
Compared to the Fireblade and the Crosslite (below), the Wildcat is beefier. In particular, it has a thicker and more cushioned sole, The upper is comfy and supportive. And they have a roomy roomy toe box. I got these in the right size, but after a 12 mile mountain run, determined that they weren't for me because the heel was too tall. If the heel is too tall, I have a hard time running downhill on my forefoot, which causes me ankle pain. Most of my shoe search has been designed to find the shoe that allows me to run in a way that makes my ankle pain go away. Like the older Montrails, the Wildcat actually causes me to have ankle pain.

La Sportiva Crosslite

I like these shoes. Compared to the Fireblade, the toe box is narrower. It borders on being almost too narrow for me. The traction on the Crosslites is awesome, and I really like the gaiter on the front. What I'm not particularly thrilled with is the heel structure. There is less cup in the Crosslite heel compared to the Fireblade and the Wildcat, and this causes some heel lift. As my shoes have broken in, the heel lift has subsided, but the cup could be better.

Another thing I have noticed is that compared to my Inov8 shoes, there is less cushioning in the forefoot. I prefer more cushioning, but I think I could get used to the relatively hard sole of the Crosslite.

Finally, I wish that the heel to toe drop on the Crosslite was smaller. At about 12 mm, it doesn't cause me to have ankle problems, but I would prefer less. I plan on taking a knife to the shoes or taking them to a cobbler to try to reduce the heel lift.

I like these shoes and run in them now and again.

Inov8 Roclite 295

These are the shoes I currently train in. They have a small heel to toe drop. They are super flexible. They have great traction. They are relatively light -- 295 grams. The have a roomy toe box. They appear to be fairly durable. All of these are characteristics I've been looking for in a shoe. The only issue I have with the Roclite 295s is that I feel rocks pushing through, and they hurt my feet, but this is a minor issue, and I've decided these are great shoes for me.

Inov8 Talon 212

This shoe is very light for a trail shoe. And it's very minimal. Except for being as durable and having a roomy toebox, it has all the characteristics I like in the Roclite 295. In fact, the heel to toe drop in the 212 is even smaller -- 6 mm I think. Compared to the Crosslite, there is a lot more cushioning in the forefoot, although as they age, I think the cushioning will pack out. The first time I ran in the 212s was at the Wahsatch Steeplechase. I knew I was taking a risk, but I'm glad I did.

Compared to the Roclite 295s, the Talon 212s have a tighter upper. I like that because it holds my foot in place on the downhill.

Because the 212 is so minimal, there are a couple problems: (a) durability -- I've put about 30 miles on my shoes and the sole at the toe is starting to peel, and (b) the tongue on the shoe is so minimal that dirt and debris can easily enter the front of the shoe.

Hoka Mafate
Everything above this, I wrote a couple weeks ago. Since then, my feet have hurt almost constantly because I'm not yet conditioned for this running thing. So, I've got some Hokas on the way -- the exact antithesis of minimal running footwear. I'm hoping that I can still keep my running style, i.e., not heel strike, but have a lot of cushion for my wimpy feet.

Deep down, I know that my feet problem has less to do with shoes and more to do with needing to log more miles and ramp up gradually rather than going all in. But, if there is a shortcut, I will take it!

My Feet

Missing a couple toenails with others black and blue. Seriously, is this normal?

Mountain Running

2010-07-05T21:12:00.002-06:00

A pair of socks and shoes, lightweight shorts, a shirt (sometimes), a watch, a visor, a bottle, a few GUs -- no more, no less. It's liberating to make one of the most primitive activities sport. Running across a knife-edge ridge, hurdling rocks and deadfall on an overgrown path, pausing at an open stream to drink, and then sitting in it to cool down. Holding two pointed rocks in both fists, jamming them into the snow; primitive crampons. It's 9:00 in the evening, still light, and I am at the top of the Pfeiff wearing 8 ounces of clothing. I give my old friend a pat, and scramble off into White Pine.

I've been running the mountains to get ready for the Speedgoat 50. I doubt I'll be ready, but the challenge has been fun.

Last Monday, I ran/walked to the Olympus saddle with my brother Jordan from Okinawa. This route was 6 miles and about 3600 vertical ascent. 2 hrs 23 minutes.

From SLC Samurai

On Tuesday, I ran Gobblers with Jon. We did some hardcore cross country downhill to connect some trails after we went off route. 8.2 miles, 3500 vertical, 2 hrs 20 minutes.

From SLC Samurai

On Wednesday, I did some climbing with the family in Maple Canyon. After the kids left, Brother Sam, Brother Aaron, Ann, and I ran to the Haji, a 2 pitch climb that was easy for everyone except for me.

From SLC Samurai

On Thursday, I ran to the Pfeifferhorn. I started at White Pine Trailhead, crossed into Maybird, tagged the Pfeiff, ran across the ridge to Red Pine, and went out Red Pine. Scenery blew me away. 9.9 miles, 4000 vertical, and 3 hrs and 6 minutes.

From SLC Samurai

On Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, I celebrated Independence Day in Gunnison, Utah. In the evenings, we played "World Cup," and I came away with some sore legs, a sprained left ankle, a rolled right ankle, and a strained groin. Don't be surprised if my new endurance sport becomes soccer.

Today (Monday), Andy and I ran the Grandeur Loop. 9.5 miles, 4400 vertical, 2 hrs and 6 minutes.

From SLC Samurai

Born to Run

2010-06-20T16:23:00.000-06:00

In March, I read Born to Run by Christopher McDougal. One of the premises of Born to Run is not only that humans evolved to run but that humans evolved because they run. A central focus of the book is the Tarahumara indians who have a legacy of long distance mountain running. The Tarahumara run incredible distances in sandals. McDougal argues that the body is not born to run in the types of shoes that have been marketed and produced in the last 40 years of human history and goes so far as to suggest that the modern running shoe is the root of many injuries associated with running because it promotes landing on the heel as opposed to the mid or forefoot.

Over the last couple months, I've been testing his theory: Am I, the SLC Samurai, born to run?

Initially, I was skeptical. I have never loved running. In fact, I've always disliked running. I think I might have even told one of my runner friends that "running is gay." Sorry.

But I was truly inspired by Born to Run, and became somewhat enamored with the thought of being able to run | in the mountains | without injury |in an effortless manner | for a long time. I became somewhat enchanted with the Tarahumara and their minimalist approach. After all, they are the literal embodiment of the motto, Light and Fast.

So, I bought a pair of New Balance MT 100 shoes, a minimalist shoe that promotes the "natural" way of running. They are very light, very flexible, and most importantly, the heel is not as bulky or raised up as the modern running shoe. And very quickly, I determined that they weren't all that comfortable. A week before the WURLOS (in April), I strapped on the MT 100s and attempted to run home from work -- about 6 miles or so. After about 4 miles, I couldn't run anymore because my feet and calves hurt. I could barely walk the next day, and I was so sore that I worried I might have to put the WURLOS off. I almost concluded then that I was not born to run.

The WURLOS has come and gone. The Uinta Highline traverse has come and gone. And I still wonder whether I am born to run. I continue to run trails. I run home from work -- successfully I might add -- once in a while. I continue my search for the perfect shoe. My feet always hurt. And I am happy to report that I have begun to believe that it is possible for me to run | in the mountains | without injury |in an effortless manner | for a long time.

Case in point: yesterday I ran in my first-ever running race, the Wahsatch Steeplechase. I ran it in 2:37 for about 16th place. It was a 17 mile race up Black Mountain and down City Creek canyon. Most of it was on trails. There was about 4500 feet elevation gain. And I enjoyed it. Running up Black Mountain at 6:00 in the morning, chasing some fast guys that were obviously born to run, was inspiring. While I took a fair amount of Vitamin I(buprofen), I ran the race without injury, and more significantly, there were moments when I felt like my effort was relatively effortless -- in the "zone" you could say. But I admit there were also times when I thought to myself, "man, if I only had a bike right now." And it was a pleasant surprise to discover that 17 miles is not too far out of my range.

Even though I can barely walk today, I'm beginning to think that maybe, after all, I was born to run . . .

Highline Traverse: The Stats and the Route

2010-06-01T22:43:00.006-06:00

Stats:

Distance: 59.7 miles.

Total Ascent: ?? My GPS and software won't accurately calculate this. . . grrrrrr.

Time: 38 hrs 16 minutes

Put in: Henry's Fork Campground

Take Out: Mirror Lake Highway, 4-5 miles below Hayden Pass

Partner: Brother Sam -- A tough dude who you wouldn't want to get in the cage with. He's forced me to tap out a couple times.

Ski Gear: Trab World Cup Duo Race w/ Dynafit Low Tech Bindings, Dynafit DyNA boots (me); Sam borrowed Bart's setup -- Dynafit SR 11s w/ Low Tech Bindings, Dynafit DyNA boots.

Other key Gear: CAMP X3 Pack, Jetboil, Mont Bell Thermawrap parka and pants, Mont Bell Tachyon windshirt and wind pants, Mont Bell spiral hugger sleeping bag, Thermarest pro lite pad.

Hrs. of Sleep: Not so much. The wind kept ripping off our sleeping bag and space blanket.

Miles left when toilet paper ran out: about 30

Wildlife seen: a grouse and a bobcat (did not eat)

No. of miles traveled with only 1 skin on: 10+

Okay, that's probably enough. Here are some illustrations of the route.

We started off at Henry's Fork Campground at about 5:00 am. We meant to get up earlier, but we slept in. At about 9000 feet, there wasn't much snow.

From 2010-06-02

Head of Henry's Fork.

From 2010-06-02

From the Henry's Fork Drainage, we climbed Gunsight Pass, and traversed and climbed Anderson Pass.

From 2010-06-02

Here is Sam on Anderson Pass at 12,700 feet. We didn't consider making a summit bid on King's Peak, which was easily within striking distance, because the winds were maching. I'd say about 80 mph. I was scared I was going to get blasted into the void, seriously.

From 2010-06-02

From Anderson Pass, we skied across a large valley, and headed toward Tungsten Pass.

From 2010-06-02

And from Tungsten Pass, we climbed to Porcupine Pass.

From 2010-06-02

We milked this slope for as long as we could. As you can see, the relief in the Uintas is BIG and BAD. Cliffs everywhere. Mountains in every direction.

From 2010-06-02

A little friend and a good omen.

From 2010-06-02

Once we climbed one pass, this is the view that often greeted us. Ummm, we have to go clear over there now?

From 2010-06-02

We got lost a couple times. The first time, we climbed midway up this cirque (the one in the far distance) before we figured out we were off route. Sam wanted to put me in a cage and give me a thrashing, but was a good sport.

From 2010-06-02

As the sun was setting, it peaked through as if to smile at us. See you in a few hours . . .

From 2010-06-02

Just as the sun is setting is a very peaceful time in the mountains. You have to enjoy it and remember it because once it gets dark, the mood changes.

From 2010-06-02

At 3:30 am, we were ascending Red Knob Pass. Skiing under a full moon was both eerie and comforting.

From 2010-06-02

When it got light, we were able to look back and see Red Knob Pass. Here is the view.

From 2010-06-02

And then we ascended Dead Horse Pass. Before we did that, however, we took an unintended detour. See the saddle on the right side of the picture below? We thought (or rather I) that was Dead Horse Pass, and climbed it, and skied off the other side of it. Once we were on the other side, we realized our mistake. It was 8:00 am and we had been skiing for 27 hours. Not a happy moment as we booted back up to the pass. Awesome terrain though.

From 2010-06-02

Getting back on route, we got a few turns in.

From 2010-06-02

Self portrait, frazzled and tired on Dead Horse Pass, with about 17 miles to go.

From 2010-06-02

At the bottom of Dead Horse Pass, this was the view that greeted us, with Rocky Sea Pass way off in the distance. It was about here that we ate our last ramen noodles.

From 2010-06-02

Here is Sam, ascending Rocky Sea Pass, with about 11-12 miles to go. Lucky for us, some snowmobilers had poached the pass (it's wilderness), and we used their tracks as an uptrack. Never have I been so grateful for poachers.

From 2010-06-02

And I didn't take anymore pictures after that . . . .

Special thanks to Mont Bell who provided much of the necessary equipment for the trip. Go Light and Fast!!!

Highline Traverse

2010-05-29T14:01:00.000-06:00

Quick update: brother Sam and I got the traverse done -- from Henry's Fork Campground to Mirror Lake Hwy in a loooong single push. It was about 55 miles over some beautiful and wicked terrain. Our time? Just a bit over 38 hrs. And that's including the four hrs or so we spent being lost. Probably one of the hardest "days" in the mountains I've ever experienced. Glad to be done. Glad to have done it.

Highline Traverse

2010-05-26T18:59:00.000-06:00

Just drove up Mirror Lake hwy from Evanston and left a car at the snowline -- 9k. Now heading to Henry's Fork where we will start the traverse. Brother Sam is my partner for this excursion. We are hoping to do it in a single push, but conditions are warm and probably slower than we would like. We have 1 sleeping bag and some mylar to get us through a night if necessary. I'm a bit frustrated because my pack is heavy -- about 16 lbs. We'll see how it goes!