tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27518331640723472792024-03-04T20:25:19.839-08:00Gnarled PineJimmy Godin's Account of High Country TravelJGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-73396653237957472872022-09-16T15:24:00.006-07:002022-09-16T15:24:34.420-07:00Baja Chronicles Pt. 4<p> May 28-29</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPw4G1ml8QcHO7muYSozMnwcNtU6bmqpRQx60rD2rsDOidQD2pVsbJgYTEpOW7Bcv2UK1I0TrmOY2-nHWiAax_l5e6rgLmONrc041yy3VHOllJPItTZSz7EIzyd5dZYogd2EhIsE6bXZkNYaLggxRXJ74WGwYFJ4wQVasYHb4JOhkaoRPuCs3ytCz5Vw/s4032/IMG_3502.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPw4G1ml8QcHO7muYSozMnwcNtU6bmqpRQx60rD2rsDOidQD2pVsbJgYTEpOW7Bcv2UK1I0TrmOY2-nHWiAax_l5e6rgLmONrc041yy3VHOllJPItTZSz7EIzyd5dZYogd2EhIsE6bXZkNYaLggxRXJ74WGwYFJ4wQVasYHb4JOhkaoRPuCs3ytCz5Vw/w480-h640/IMG_3502.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>"Welp, we decided to punch it up north and hopefully find one last good Mexican wave before crossing the border. </div><div><br /></div><div>Along the way we stopped at a gringo-oriented greasy spoon with this turtle just chillin in the middle of the restaurant. The aquarium it was sitting in looked kinda gnarly with cloudy water and dirty glass. We were relieved 'tortuga' wasn't on the menu. </div><div><br /></div><div>There were a bit of nerves on our way out of Valle de Santo Tomas. The guidebook mentions a federal checkpoint coming from there back into Ensanada, where you might get hassled without your 'papers.' We had no papers, but our understanding was that the federal officers are mostly interested in large trucks containing produce. Like most of our experiences in Baja, things turned out alright as the federal officers carelessly waved us through.</div><div><br /></div><div>We peeled through Ensanada at a sluggish clip, weaving through crosstown traffic and soaking in the city's energy at each red light. It seems like a cool spot to post up for a while, and after passing by many, many busy food stands, I wish we didn't have to drive through so quickly. What's more, we passed some oceanside boulders with chalk on the overhangs. To be a surfer and climber in such a place... </div><div><br /></div><div>Our potential options for spots in Ensanada were some sharky coves at the mouth of the main harbor and San Miguel. We decided to scope San Miguel, which according to Surfline, is the most consistent right-point break in Baja Norte, popular with both locals and southern Californians. We scoped it right off the side of the highway, and there it was: breaking magnificently and consistently, running leftward along the rocky point. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW6t8xZ1nYe7S9OYkHw00PF9bnZQbeeMR2OLkzRlXngbX7GsdbFuiHFSibc1eXVDanItAQobED49qvvChman2OAsr-7XfoI7Az9j1MpSBqYPIPPslIKSQET9A5oDXOIk_YlVYS3CdfflMVMMj5cNZ9K2NLAtqljMloLdALfBB-xe_3speLm0wTuJdidQ/s4032/IMG_5507.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW6t8xZ1nYe7S9OYkHw00PF9bnZQbeeMR2OLkzRlXngbX7GsdbFuiHFSibc1eXVDanItAQobED49qvvChman2OAsr-7XfoI7Az9j1MpSBqYPIPPslIKSQET9A5oDXOIk_YlVYS3CdfflMVMMj5cNZ9K2NLAtqljMloLdALfBB-xe_3speLm0wTuJdidQ/w640-h480/IMG_5507.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>The wave looked good, but the beach scene not so much. It's more or less a large dirt parking lot, guarded by a toll booth. But with cheap camping and a decent looking wave (the only one we saw all day), we paid the fee and called it home for the night—even if that home was spitting distance off the busy highway. I could see why some irreverently refer to this zone as San Diego's most affordable suburb. <div><br /><div><br /><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim__6jDCNhM5viuy8MV4gs2IjVmcw02fqbENpXx-IA3vQGC8YkublrJ8saI7OqDp90kLGiGbzvXLQsD219CZcfh3_kcHz_YJSUaxVOT8a9Ips0wynGs0z1sF0iCwiuHQVtmiQGDO9aC3u62vSOrjyp7msOHheepY-d6fzq0z60W9GVL11SbN97suhHlQ/s4032/IMG_5508.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim__6jDCNhM5viuy8MV4gs2IjVmcw02fqbENpXx-IA3vQGC8YkublrJ8saI7OqDp90kLGiGbzvXLQsD219CZcfh3_kcHz_YJSUaxVOT8a9Ips0wynGs0z1sF0iCwiuHQVtmiQGDO9aC3u62vSOrjyp7msOHheepY-d6fzq0z60W9GVL11SbN97suhHlQ/w640-h480/IMG_5508.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I was a bit intimidated by the wave. Not because of its size, but because of its speed and its crowd factor. There were 15x more people on this wave during poor conditions than I had seen the entire week. It is also somewhat of a more complex wave than the beach breaks we had been surfing. You only have a couple body lengths of flat water before it shallows up over sharp cobbles. </div><div><br /></div><div>I sat out on the evening sesh and decided to film the boys from the shore instead. They both got a pair of clean-looking waves, and the session ended soon after. </div><div><br /></div>The wind hammered away at the dirt lot all night, and it was probably our most spartan night of camping yet. It was kind of funny that our last night in Baja was in a beachside lot below the highway, surrounded by plenty of partying Californians and even some New Yorkers.</div><div><br /></div><div>At 6 AM I opened my eyes and saw Travis getting into his suit for what would be our final Baja session. I didn't need coffee or anything that morning; I just got right into my suit and embraced the cold dawn paddle-out. It felt good. I think if I lived near the ocean I'd go early morning surfing often. </div><div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzTraNV-wZjwif7H-cKDsjPgbDGXeZkTNSRDltqlgwXTGSm8vTcbP1nvkbyDA_JwqZrYDGTpXj2HwXkHL1DzozgtdAXHq40-SHVDlhizeMmYydfi6Jay3UEsCY-w2c3b72asBpysCsXEN41Qa3DwN67Db89s3UCRyyvaXfYH10J1H9YW-XROmk7yqo4g/s4032/IMG_5522.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzTraNV-wZjwif7H-cKDsjPgbDGXeZkTNSRDltqlgwXTGSm8vTcbP1nvkbyDA_JwqZrYDGTpXj2HwXkHL1DzozgtdAXHq40-SHVDlhizeMmYydfi6Jay3UEsCY-w2c3b72asBpysCsXEN41Qa3DwN67Db89s3UCRyyvaXfYH10J1H9YW-XROmk7yqo4g/w640-h480/IMG_5522.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>There were a handful of people in the lineup already, and I wasn't used to aggressively getting into position. So I didn't really catch anything that morning, paddling back in after an hour. But I've come to understand that sometimes merely getting wet and wet alone is quite okay. </div><div><br /></div><div>What San Miguel's parking lot lacked in aesthetics it made up for in cheap coffee and pastries, and we soaked in the morning vibe before taking on the madness that is re-entering the United States. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMlLjcuFnEug40WZooJLe2OtEDl2zBpTPVeQTnVZWlJu3CJQWDqltQ5yDjUHRHQtfmH2MgXlS3Mrjqyqqxm0T9UOxZ7dz_jBVGLrm4TkWXwzX6-X1qXnYvgr7kZyTjCZ6c6oZtwU_lrAdu36j9DnGZLGCQK7u4SgPZje2sfe05TDPtJ9LkxfSQZdjeww/s4032/IMG_5525.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMlLjcuFnEug40WZooJLe2OtEDl2zBpTPVeQTnVZWlJu3CJQWDqltQ5yDjUHRHQtfmH2MgXlS3Mrjqyqqxm0T9UOxZ7dz_jBVGLrm4TkWXwzX6-X1qXnYvgr7kZyTjCZ6c6oZtwU_lrAdu36j9DnGZLGCQK7u4SgPZje2sfe05TDPtJ9LkxfSQZdjeww/w640-h480/IMG_5525.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>The drive from San Miguel to Tijuana is short, and soon enough the stressful city driving began. We passed lots of shanty homes, and one of the first things we saw when entering Tijuana proper was a homeless man peeing on the flames of a grease fire, right on the sidewalk. </div><div><br /></div><div>The city center didn't seem so bad though. There were lots of pleasant parks with people playing soccer, and some sophisticated-looking buildings getting cleaned by men without harnesses, ropes, or anything like that. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtFNeNKxTewzYZEFq9LYioYz5Z0mE2dyz4XjLpj6jLk5_LBLGbMs66-kY1uz541oJ67qR_HYmwLm0DRsTcFMjqUtKUh1ewt3R2jf47H-eyo8d_wuxCikfdz83Rf_Emqo6C9SikrRuflLIhbDVZOWHnIJFPGL-NgCw5A7YvtGryByOPmbADDuR1tTUUAg/s4032/IMG_5527.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtFNeNKxTewzYZEFq9LYioYz5Z0mE2dyz4XjLpj6jLk5_LBLGbMs66-kY1uz541oJ67qR_HYmwLm0DRsTcFMjqUtKUh1ewt3R2jf47H-eyo8d_wuxCikfdz83Rf_Emqo6C9SikrRuflLIhbDVZOWHnIJFPGL-NgCw5A7YvtGryByOPmbADDuR1tTUUAg/w480-h640/IMG_5527.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Due to James' ace directions for the "ready lane," the whole border situation only took us an hour. As you near the border proper, the traffic lanes start filling up with vendors, knick-knack peddlers, window washers, and people down on their luck doing what they can to get a buck from the gringos returning to the comforts of industrialized living. </div><div><br /></div><div>The border crossing itself was easy, too; despite our loaded vehicle, the border agent from Idaho was mostly interested in where where Evan and I like to snowboard in Montana (Evan has a Montana license). She waved us along, and almost too anti-climactically, we were back in the states.</div><div><br /></div><div>Although we hadn't gone a mile from the Mexico border nor had we stepped out of the car, it felt different being back in the States; open, lighter, stress-free. The adventure was over. Back to comfort, to regular life and certainty. </div><div><br /></div><div>Before we dropped Evan off in San Diego, he mentioned the leftover pesos in his wallet; he'd have no need for them anymore. I bought them off of him and began making loose plans for the next trip... </div><div><br /></div><div>... </div><div><br /></div><div>Before flying back to SLC, I made a stop at Billy's place in Santa Monica and was elated when he told me he was keen on an evening session at Malibu Point. I realized this presented a rare opportunity to surf in two different countries in one day. </div><div><br /></div><div>I had heard a bit about Malibu Point (mostly for the worst), but the wave's aesthetic quality and position were undeniable. After briefly scoping the spot, I was practically sprinting down the beach with one of Billy's boards in hand.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-xB3rgz9AyGd9T7f_HI8SvPS73jIHGHreNh2m2_fZVXAIITwVZ_cZchHYikPs9zzJou9oHdTi9ZAlyWZJpKIBnglT5bWnYOlmvfLKqZIFgyQ9ZXWjqN2bjVvTCRA1BLUWqi5wf7MszNHNcsrvGLx3J6WT5Z4AaLWT__Lvim2QGnLjmJQVuxkyj-IUBQ/s4032/IMG_5556.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-xB3rgz9AyGd9T7f_HI8SvPS73jIHGHreNh2m2_fZVXAIITwVZ_cZchHYikPs9zzJou9oHdTi9ZAlyWZJpKIBnglT5bWnYOlmvfLKqZIFgyQ9ZXWjqN2bjVvTCRA1BLUWqi5wf7MszNHNcsrvGLx3J6WT5Z4AaLWT__Lvim2QGnLjmJQVuxkyj-IUBQ/w640-h480/IMG_5556.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Despite losing a fin, this session was excellent; mostly because I was sharing it with Billy, a long-time homie and one of the first people I've ever surfed with. </p><p>We surfed well past sunset, into the darkness of night."</p></div></div></div>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-35568224642515545572022-08-13T14:38:00.003-07:002022-08-15T06:52:42.563-07:00Baja Chronicles Pt. 3<p> May 26-27</p><p>"The other night it occurred to me how there's few places in the States where one can do something very cool in the open land and not have to deal with other strangers doing that same thing. </p><p>So far in Baja we've seen some picnicking Mexican families, gruff fisherman/farmer types, but no other surfers. Despite camping out in Baja's lonely coastal hills—against the advice of the Gringo hostel owner—we haven't been robbed or even bothered by any of the locals. Not saying the stories of crime and robbery are untrue. But the risk of camping out on our own paid off heavily. </p><p>Our campsite was nestled between the dunes. You could only see us if you were out in the water or at the very tip of Punta Cabras itself. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEguPyPQ2Vz7fwnBxxOJkOls5cgiXAdfbAp19elFmIll_U62ngbFF30_H3fDOzJ1j9lBGYWpAS9lCXtzmRzguZKdlD_omhQTX9iWGpd_EJTPlcyC7kdMcZBcxaMhtCTp2iwjytkfHsPb4gb177D-GMSh90avC2hOy4lT3kZ_s7eG1BoNdAh1oE8qnzsQ/s2930/IMG_5568.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2198" data-original-width="2930" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEguPyPQ2Vz7fwnBxxOJkOls5cgiXAdfbAp19elFmIll_U62ngbFF30_H3fDOzJ1j9lBGYWpAS9lCXtzmRzguZKdlD_omhQTX9iWGpd_EJTPlcyC7kdMcZBcxaMhtCTp2iwjytkfHsPb4gb177D-GMSh90avC2hOy4lT3kZ_s7eG1BoNdAh1oE8qnzsQ/w640-h480/IMG_5568.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>It all felt so surreal. Like camping out for the first time, god knows how long ago that was. We hunkered down shoulder-to-shoulder under the tarp, with the surf breaking only 100 or so feet below our heads as we nodded off, to wake up undisturbed and entirely alone, sipping coffee and contemplating the morning session.</p><p>Leading up to that dreamy night, though, the day was windy and rather hot. We didn't get the evening surf session that we had hoped for due to the conditions. I tried to nap at camp but it was sweltering, so I took my camp chair and a book ("Into a Desert Place" by Graham MacKintosh) down to the beach and sat there with my legs in the water, being chased further and further up the beach as the tide crept in. The water cooled me off, and it felt wonderful to do nothing. </p><p>We decided to go on a walk, south of the camp, to eye the idyllic coves and tidal pools lining the point. We walked around the tip of Punta Cabras over sharp volcanic rock and dusty two-track. There were lots of pelicans and foreign desert fauna unlike anything I've seen in the southwestern desert of the States. </p><p>There was also some graffiti on a dilapidated structure. I couldn't quite read the entire thing, but it was this poetic invective against littering the Baja countryside ("Es contra los jovenes de Mexico"). Evidently Baja has a littering problem. But it’s comforting to know there are some people who are trying to do what’s right. </p><p><br /></p><p>In the cove on the other side of the point, where we surfed the first day, the waves broke in quick, decisive closeouts that spanned the entire beach. They threw sweeping rainbow mist in the evening light. I wanted to take all of my life's possessions and move them right there, in that little mist cloud, to live there forever suspended in water. </p><p>We noticed a sedan racing toward the direction of our camp. Paranoid, I ran back to our camp (I forgot to hide my valuables), picking up a small rock just in case I needed to huck it at somebody. I imagine this stressed out both Travis and Evan to an unnecessary extent. Of course it was a false alarm, but my anxiety got the better of me. The sedan disappeared into nowhere. </p><p><br /></p><p>That evening the wind never died down and we accepted that evening glass up would not be a reality. So we made a giant trash supper: ramen with the seasoning packets, spinach, and eggs—add more salt. It was way too much food and we all scarfed it down.</p><p>The sun set, I washed dishes, and we each settled in beneath our tarp, which had been fluttering madly in the wind all day but—perhaps in an act of providence unique only to Baja—ceased right as we tucked in. Fiver's gorgeous album "... with the Atlantic School of Spontaneous Composition" put me right to sleep. </p><p><br /></p><p>This morning we each had coffee, little or no breakfast, and got right into our wetsuits. It was another beautifully grey, misty Baja Norte morning in the water, with the sun burning away the clouds at the mouth of the valley a few km's inland from shore.</p><p>The waves looked fun but a bit smaller than the day before, maintaining a similar flavor and organization: heaving, pocket-y beach breaks. When paddling for a wave, most looked no bigger than hip or chest-high. But once I stood up on them, they rose quickly and increased in size and power. It required some quick maneuvering on the big board to avoid getting closed out.</p><p>The tide was going out during the morning. Sets were infrequent. On two occasions Evan, Travis, and I got caught off guard by a sneaky set breaking further outside than we expected. It cleaned each of us up and delivered a battering for upwards of ten to fifteen minutes. I counted ten head-high waves that I either took to the head or swam through. It was really tough with the 9 footer. Apparently the same could be said with the smaller boards too; when I looked over to Trav and Evan, they were also way inside and getting worked too.</p><p>After the second cleanup set my ailing shoulder was toast and I headed into shore. That would be enough for the day. I didn't catch many waves that morning, but the few I caught were big (for me); I distinctly remember standing up tall to look back on the outside at the boys with a shit-eating grin and seeing nothing but an emerald wall of water. Yowza. The big board made everything feel little. [I think after a few days of surfing a big board and getting my feet back under me, it just makes sense to downsize and let 'er rip.] </p><p>We shared the lineup that morning with a couple of dolphins. Off in the distance—maybe a few hundred yards— we watched a humpback whale breach over and over again. I sat on my board for a while and watched, reeling as sets rolled through, hypnotized by the weight of the whale's presence.</p><p>. . . </p><p>(Stopped writing at around midnight last night because we treated ourselves to a resort (a rectangular stucco shack with simple amenities and buggy mattresses) and my cushy twin bed beckoned me to a deep sleep, right on top of the blankets.)</p><p>Anyhow, spent some time after yesterday's session relaxing in our dreamy little dune camp before breaking it down and leaving—for good. I still couldn't believe the experience we had the night before, hunkered down under the tarp right above the surf. I was sad to leave but I have a feeling I'll be back... </p><p>On our way out of the village of Erendira we stopped by Genesis, a top birrieria. A round-faced woman told us to sit wherever and I forced myself to strike up some small talk. She gave me the keys to the bathroom and I ambled around behind the eatery, fiddling with random locked doors that looked like they might lead to a latrine. I went back into the birreria and asked the woman if she could show me where the bathroom was. Her face turned red, she smiled, and pointed me in the right direction, toward a little plywood box painted red, just a few hundred feet down the dirt road. Small dogs snapped at my ankles and chickens bobbed beneath the shade of large oaks. Wandering around the backyards of Erendira made me want to stay longer, to have a different kind of experience immersed in this little Baja village.</p><p>I ordered the birria, which was tender, spicy, and perfect. I ate it with fresh, warm corn tortillas. The boys agreed this was the best meal we had yet. While we hung out in Genesis, I took a good look at us and noticed how we all wore four days of surfing and camping on our faces and skin and hair. I felt like four days of surfing and camping, too. Exactly how I wanted to feel. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2bpx8iX_L1PywSdiW__A2SGeoUIdja2f6V84MKM-xFP-_4qs2J9GbcFTb_B1ClxGQJDp3NPrBFCfqToKxfRB1zTjII_FIJ3lWE5XIV0w58Omw4JXNurQB3SNflerlnVDM48Q8lId-z21DTQw86Tc2A-SBdLx1VzVaZ5DqZCyeL3A1FAF0Zd8VP6-awg/s4032/IMG_5480.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2bpx8iX_L1PywSdiW__A2SGeoUIdja2f6V84MKM-xFP-_4qs2J9GbcFTb_B1ClxGQJDp3NPrBFCfqToKxfRB1zTjII_FIJ3lWE5XIV0w58Omw4JXNurQB3SNflerlnVDM48Q8lId-z21DTQw86Tc2A-SBdLx1VzVaZ5DqZCyeL3A1FAF0Zd8VP6-awg/w640-h480/IMG_5480.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>After a quick refill on ice, water, and spicy Mexican candies, we left Erendira and pointed it back northeast toward the highway.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9YQdTyYmJ8bRc-_uCXOop9w62Qxc2R5LaIJ_5l8YgXBvZU0EGIiDXi_XKNqZQln-6DqSbHbNG9Ro1HZFS1wH2Pg79Bmx6uj7GPtjb-A9lrZTNuwWlmVKnFY4BbGs9jG94_7tFFcfDWtdhwee6sixKf1iOBdqBogaIs-kMHxlEDWIq8-TIpneXqt4JNQ/s4032/IMG_5482.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9YQdTyYmJ8bRc-_uCXOop9w62Qxc2R5LaIJ_5l8YgXBvZU0EGIiDXi_XKNqZQln-6DqSbHbNG9Ro1HZFS1wH2Pg79Bmx6uj7GPtjb-A9lrZTNuwWlmVKnFY4BbGs9jG94_7tFFcfDWtdhwee6sixKf1iOBdqBogaIs-kMHxlEDWIq8-TIpneXqt4JNQ/w640-h480/IMG_5482.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Our destination of Punta San Jose was only a few km's to the north from where we stayed the night before, but apparently the beach roads are bad enough that the long drive back on the MX-1 is the surer, safer, and saner bet. But the MX-1, with its high speeds, small shoulders, and foreign traffic customs has its perils, too; once again we nearly got T-boned from both directions at a blind and unmarked three-way intersection. </p><p>We needed strong drink, and the small valley just south of Ensenada—Santo Tomas—was known for its wine. At Bodega de Santo Tomas, the second oldest winery in Mexico, an English-speaking Mexican who was really into Legend of Zelda (tattoos, necklace, etc.) sold us some bottles of tempranillo and exquisite rose, which we downed later that night over tall tales.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixuB14w50METPR20fSOU98nPN478i6il9GX7HY9qE1I8OyGmEacaouxaEfEDT-SgMJI-Z2cNr1xMXK_g0BWQtQB96ThVR5EAEstKSypwD-uA5xebbAhkXxtme6E14HkmrRs3fk5z7cI4rm9UWvEnRzSp8aM3LnPOdpaeE7TL1G860UAGMHcR-wUzQn6Q/s4032/IMG_5487.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixuB14w50METPR20fSOU98nPN478i6il9GX7HY9qE1I8OyGmEacaouxaEfEDT-SgMJI-Z2cNr1xMXK_g0BWQtQB96ThVR5EAEstKSypwD-uA5xebbAhkXxtme6E14HkmrRs3fk5z7cI4rm9UWvEnRzSp8aM3LnPOdpaeE7TL1G860UAGMHcR-wUzQn6Q/w640-h480/IMG_5487.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>We misread the map. We thought that camping at Bocana Santo Tomas would allow us to surf some of the stuff around that zone, and also the revered Punta San Jose. We were wrong, and didn't realize this until making the long, dusty drive out to Bocana Santo Tomas. Luckily the drive—during golden hour—was pretty enough that we didn't fully regret our decision arriving at the wrong place [and we wouldn't know until the next day how skunked we could get in this particular area]. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgtIdpDCrMuLcnMRN6BYm_A99KdIiKbwy2oD8ZJXKuYmZQStKP1P6qYkAFgLoy9tPDrTQ537z_Cb9meLBpBMKSwz_BldoIvQ_jHWeYSP-P6Dr-AIWU46CLjiieiLD_u4YrEauqAdZdfA8fMymhpUwmdYVjBre_naxzb-CeX-S3JIm57AmFfTwgm6mUdg/s3783/IMG_5489.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2837" data-original-width="3783" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgtIdpDCrMuLcnMRN6BYm_A99KdIiKbwy2oD8ZJXKuYmZQStKP1P6qYkAFgLoy9tPDrTQ537z_Cb9meLBpBMKSwz_BldoIvQ_jHWeYSP-P6Dr-AIWU46CLjiieiLD_u4YrEauqAdZdfA8fMymhpUwmdYVjBre_naxzb-CeX-S3JIm57AmFfTwgm6mUdg/w640-h480/IMG_5489.heic" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>At the resort, we were greeted by a handful of dogs and the watchman, whose family lived on the premises. Everything's pretty casual out here: you drive up, say you're wanting a place to stay the night, they show you the whole deal, leave you alone, and you pay whenever you want. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBiPWxugKJrA4YKghB3uPHgZR-7eMZniGHQY9jW8XfwN4sO7UGtbVhnMsN4dqcKsk_rFpLOv1y2fJxhxP4rZg1UIuq9DB3Bz_izJbW15D1qKrbNEXY_sxj6ApQxhjKTu9amxsHd4zfkLFpzLgzE7KTE-jXHaMZrXyUFPoWF74tdkTqxYtc44NPaXQPBA/s4032/IMG_5496.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBiPWxugKJrA4YKghB3uPHgZR-7eMZniGHQY9jW8XfwN4sO7UGtbVhnMsN4dqcKsk_rFpLOv1y2fJxhxP4rZg1UIuq9DB3Bz_izJbW15D1qKrbNEXY_sxj6ApQxhjKTu9amxsHd4zfkLFpzLgzE7KTE-jXHaMZrXyUFPoWF74tdkTqxYtc44NPaXQPBA/w640-h480/IMG_5496.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfctEfLKur6uIM8GWRkUbiDGFQf91ZtVGFUEpurDHmxK--qApMXfSyTQ_eUNH-TabeC-Xy8HA8j_-Kcl7pNEnLaxhkXBFlkmDft8i9l3jBjQyadJvaW62Vu93t342mFK1TGDkDXGmrRFxwmbQqNde289DR5Dzoq6Gl9Zq5XtDq9-FsYHA93kfUECX6PA/s4032/IMG_5498.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfctEfLKur6uIM8GWRkUbiDGFQf91ZtVGFUEpurDHmxK--qApMXfSyTQ_eUNH-TabeC-Xy8HA8j_-Kcl7pNEnLaxhkXBFlkmDft8i9l3jBjQyadJvaW62Vu93t342mFK1TGDkDXGmrRFxwmbQqNde289DR5Dzoq6Gl9Zq5XtDq9-FsYHA93kfUECX6PA/w640-h480/IMG_5498.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPCIWyqrxx6tRN2bCgilZOjaSDUN6OU8PDXsvQbdH4cWIYE-v5s-qexBr0Y_jsZfXVpIzTTvzk75G1tpF_FIfpgD_5v0bfKUUs6xWoLdn8t_BM9xyj0-rTdh7miGFeM4cl3-YepBvdGQNXJEjPU7J7nXpbMg_rlTO7So_pp0OgYjPBPACpQg1ROuByzQ/s4032/IMG_5491.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPCIWyqrxx6tRN2bCgilZOjaSDUN6OU8PDXsvQbdH4cWIYE-v5s-qexBr0Y_jsZfXVpIzTTvzk75G1tpF_FIfpgD_5v0bfKUUs6xWoLdn8t_BM9xyj0-rTdh7miGFeM4cl3-YepBvdGQNXJEjPU7J7nXpbMg_rlTO7So_pp0OgYjPBPACpQg1ROuByzQ/w640-h480/IMG_5491.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>That night in the cabin, Evan made a Mexixan dinner of rice, beans, and tortas con queso. We washed it down with wine and talked a bunch of shit in the dim artificial light, with the evening Pacific breeze seeping through the windows. Climbing, surfing, places in the United States that are livable and don't suck. Certainly there is nowhere like Baja.</p><p>... </p><p>It was nice to wake up the following morning and depart from the camping routine. With a workable stove, countertop, and sink, I prepared a big breakfast of blueberry and banana pancakes. We ate in excess to pretty much sit in the car the entire morning.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhukmLDMC6Fa-gldPgvTXTd1J-eVz3gPNN53oiAUrcm-oJFMDPC8xh85jEI1a2DoE2sgQ0J7Cw50E5IIByBWf6_F7CQvUKKWGUuAv1CsU_bHxVvjWYJ9BXiaHxIxC0pFOUCqOSqhWGwluW_R2l6NausmkfWzO6rRl1lnikytlBsNgYdtndEkGg2OSTELQ/s4032/IMG_5499.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhukmLDMC6Fa-gldPgvTXTd1J-eVz3gPNN53oiAUrcm-oJFMDPC8xh85jEI1a2DoE2sgQ0J7Cw50E5IIByBWf6_F7CQvUKKWGUuAv1CsU_bHxVvjWYJ9BXiaHxIxC0pFOUCqOSqhWGwluW_R2l6NausmkfWzO6rRl1lnikytlBsNgYdtndEkGg2OSTELQ/w640-h480/IMG_5499.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCLyQbNmC0-kVigIUxvekp7P5rVFzr7WGUln4K0cGBXxKZ43yqQmIppxmcuQPEMsP28vje9wdNThv1-wYvlnYzBUhQSqhrf7dheypU6HtxGFNus8y_0lt_JzYBlMQfYoPuHe6nuMDVfZR6EjwOwaWeK5_hYSqFcsGaj0qwG9eLGDSegsmtBf3zS9rB7Q/s3501/IMG_5501.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2626" data-original-width="3501" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCLyQbNmC0-kVigIUxvekp7P5rVFzr7WGUln4K0cGBXxKZ43yqQmIppxmcuQPEMsP28vje9wdNThv1-wYvlnYzBUhQSqhrf7dheypU6HtxGFNus8y_0lt_JzYBlMQfYoPuHe6nuMDVfZR6EjwOwaWeK5_hYSqFcsGaj0qwG9eLGDSegsmtBf3zS9rB7Q/w640-h480/IMG_5501.heic" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>As I write this at about 1:00 PM, we've gotten shut down at all spots: Bocana Santo Tomas (no waves), Punta China (waves breaking directly on exposed reef, restricted access due to mining operation), Bahia de Solidad (uncertain and steep mountain roads, a long walk to the water). I guess even Baja presents the ever-present opportunity to get shut down. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwBqHCP5RYe3fhMhOii_uKrEK7n78oFLfO1YsIShP3n7ZgP8ylGkw4LQGuPV0JVOLkkMAWAciHiSwqlO38M8fy0GCnJNn75GX6YXTxoEOhzkjhm5yxrUh4QGIcNO5vExu2oLcRoX6lvwTEuzn7BjnAttJR58fiA4JCfzMQ4Pf6ET16WXDdvA39uS55ag/s2875/IMG_5503.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2156" data-original-width="2875" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwBqHCP5RYe3fhMhOii_uKrEK7n78oFLfO1YsIShP3n7ZgP8ylGkw4LQGuPV0JVOLkkMAWAciHiSwqlO38M8fy0GCnJNn75GX6YXTxoEOhzkjhm5yxrUh4QGIcNO5vExu2oLcRoX6lvwTEuzn7BjnAttJR58fiA4JCfzMQ4Pf6ET16WXDdvA39uS55ag/w640-h480/IMG_5503.heic" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Right now the hope is to maybe score some final Baja surf at one of the spots just south of the border, a far cry from the solitude we experienced the days before. If not, we blast through the border today and surf with the rest of the United States in San Diego. Suerte!</p>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-86675826352086258682022-06-03T11:26:00.003-07:002022-06-08T21:38:52.238-07:00Baja Chronicles Pt. 2<p>May 24–25</p><p>"The sun started showing its face yesterday afternoon while we were surfing the rightmost point at 'Long Beach.' Despite the cold air from the Pacific barreling in over the coast, the sun's out in full and beating on our skin and the camp we’ve set up tucked between the dunes. Not a great place to hang out in the heat of the day, but seemingly hidden enough from the supposed watchful eyes of anyone with a capable vehicle and the hope of burning some Gringos.</p><p>This is a marked contrast from the past two days, where I thought California's infamous June Gloom would make Baja feel more like how Bilbao felt or how Pichilemu looked in photos. Despite all of this, the water is still very cold. Apparently it stays in the 50s year round due to deep underwater caves. </p><p>Yesterday I woke up stiff and achey—the shoulder injury decided to speak up again. A rooster started squawking at around 3:15 AM and wouldn't cease until well past sunrise. Who programmed this thing? Rough. Need to always keep the ear plugs closer at hand. </p><p>Made some coffee and we were in the car by 8 AM. We drove north to see about las olas mejores that the hombre told us about the day before. </p><p>Our first attempt making it over that way did not go easily. The road was merely an extension of the beach—dunes consisting of soft sand. We didn't wanna charge on through because the sand and the angle of the slopes only got gnarlier. With nowhere to make a K-turn, Travis drove in reverse all the way back to where the road improved. This caused his engine to nearly catch fire. I continuously inhaled engine smoke while I helped Evan push Travis' car backwards out of the dunes. The smell of burning clutch lingered inside the car for the rest of the drive and turned my stomach upside down. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHG_lI3CW_r9yzHd0WtBKWfkcnDRMHZOlPoU0GLvCb7tLKTTUvnDbInDO8R59o2c2dv10eFL-74wnzXd6tmM7V47K15BGB1Ich17kC5xZ2l3LcXV9fnmWMECCl9wiYolTpRfhVGlo9cF8xfcqgIOAksS8UcQAu97kAcYLhatmOgBRWAKWvPC-8Mb1MJQ/s4032/IMG_5452.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHG_lI3CW_r9yzHd0WtBKWfkcnDRMHZOlPoU0GLvCb7tLKTTUvnDbInDO8R59o2c2dv10eFL-74wnzXd6tmM7V47K15BGB1Ich17kC5xZ2l3LcXV9fnmWMECCl9wiYolTpRfhVGlo9cF8xfcqgIOAksS8UcQAu97kAcYLhatmOgBRWAKWvPC-8Mb1MJQ/w640-h480/IMG_5452.heic" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>We got in the water hoping for a clean, well-organized right point break, but it was mostly big, sloping beach breaks with no obvious takeoff or organization. The waves felt much more powerful over here than in the cove we surfed yesterday. They would come in—surging and apparently small—and very instantly would plunge to hard-to-predict waist-to-head high pitchy sections. What they lacked in shape they made up for in volume, and they were quite fun on the longboard with the right takeoff direction. </p><p>These were certainly the biggest waves I'd surfed since some of the hurricane swells down in the Gulf of Mexico. I was a bit too inside at one point and while paddling back out I took a wave directly on the head. Before I went under I must have forgotten to take my big breath, and the washing machine had its way with me for longer than I was ready. It felt like I came pretty close to surfacing with a belly full of seawater. The ocean can feel so calm in certain positions, but this was a good reminder that it gets very serious if I'm in the wrong spot. It feels even more serious down here at a remote break in Baja, far from any reliable help. </p><p>After this shakeup, my confidence tumbled and I passed up a lot of good waves until about the end of the session, where I started to focus harder on relaxing and breathing well. It worked. </p><p>For the second time in a row we had the entire break to ourselves.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSmmGXc6x7mfttTdPk3t1oHtnrq5Q2X55r_M6eGKPUBHKOwfDIb9Xu3uMVa6BntB062M-mPO3SnQOHaekQ6K08APKGM5OFhGCVlzPrz-XmXPvwZX_xTIA3FwMQXEO0zamo3GICM0KdA4HNvZYY6aIQWjsKN745iM1qQbzJAPOUNQD8dZEQ6Pnv6RVChw/s3619/IMG_5459.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2714" data-original-width="3619" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSmmGXc6x7mfttTdPk3t1oHtnrq5Q2X55r_M6eGKPUBHKOwfDIb9Xu3uMVa6BntB062M-mPO3SnQOHaekQ6K08APKGM5OFhGCVlzPrz-XmXPvwZX_xTIA3FwMQXEO0zamo3GICM0KdA4HNvZYY6aIQWjsKN745iM1qQbzJAPOUNQD8dZEQ6Pnv6RVChw/w640-h480/IMG_5459.heic" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFejGC8uHGWhcgQlyFpnru3cJobAtYunetPJ-hkQxYaTj2F56JsQ_Sd22HOITGCuzmWbmplQyuzz7YSS371KIIDfzJRwCQ4lHxWPHS8evGv75uMNH2N7WRy2s3Q0X4yWzFq_JcF3xTp9_mRwK9GACSbTbt6KKYXzo6STJo33QZzH4JBcyVFSjPbqJyqw/s2967/IMG_5457.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2967" data-original-width="2225" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFejGC8uHGWhcgQlyFpnru3cJobAtYunetPJ-hkQxYaTj2F56JsQ_Sd22HOITGCuzmWbmplQyuzz7YSS371KIIDfzJRwCQ4lHxWPHS8evGv75uMNH2N7WRy2s3Q0X4yWzFq_JcF3xTp9_mRwK9GACSbTbt6KKYXzo6STJo33QZzH4JBcyVFSjPbqJyqw/w480-h640/IMG_5457.heic" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaKE-_zOd9L76X989ooP8B6RxsraoQEDc8dn8lZuMxa4JUVXXeeciBuKuyw4ZuSB2fiqxM7F2OmWOWnYTY4Jl3NEX5XabDaCVLMs28V7tYLY30PizTbslzjRBLsZhF-8MSrCig11Er8JWcRr0rOQtkiRmZnRnKzImd2sf-6RheIMD8UmbcG2LVb979mQ/s3495/IMG_5462.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2621" data-original-width="3495" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaKE-_zOd9L76X989ooP8B6RxsraoQEDc8dn8lZuMxa4JUVXXeeciBuKuyw4ZuSB2fiqxM7F2OmWOWnYTY4Jl3NEX5XabDaCVLMs28V7tYLY30PizTbslzjRBLsZhF-8MSrCig11Er8JWcRr0rOQtkiRmZnRnKzImd2sf-6RheIMD8UmbcG2LVb979mQ/w640-h480/IMG_5462.heic" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>As we left the spot, the gloom finally burned off and we gawked at some large, hilly ranches overlooking the ocean. Small yellow and bright red flowers carpeted the ground and felt soft under my feet.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglrC-ue_G35x2COjxmdzBtPaLsma-r0DQDlFDHGF2l36FYUYwFE1UhYrkWTnHJ76QmPOINQkH9LYvsQeaupHUQFqCpj-hU8NusBzyLRXXM7Iv7VdZ3eR1ExnJ8dqmWOPpbC4b3gVUNW47xxVgH7qLddo_QxWUBt7fjbG99wsPUXlB4X1CYRgCi_l69XA/s4032/IMG_5463.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglrC-ue_G35x2COjxmdzBtPaLsma-r0DQDlFDHGF2l36FYUYwFE1UhYrkWTnHJ76QmPOINQkH9LYvsQeaupHUQFqCpj-hU8NusBzyLRXXM7Iv7VdZ3eR1ExnJ8dqmWOPpbC4b3gVUNW47xxVgH7qLddo_QxWUBt7fjbG99wsPUXlB4X1CYRgCi_l69XA/w640-h480/IMG_5463.heic" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVoJ9_TOBbylcTZVGNUoUNglb-ocNaCtNYQ8mGT1Gd63CeWN13UfIcAGNFDsh6njaD82i1zcShrtDCB1hfHMR1Q9ljwYKS0D_YkSgeJeBUt2E06PIIrsHmvYfscvksV8oeXY5dHoQCZr_iAO19DUADoPSIKRpuI6fQGOCQSGlLONZOY7tiAYiBVmc1XQ/s2934/IMG_5465.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2200" data-original-width="2934" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVoJ9_TOBbylcTZVGNUoUNglb-ocNaCtNYQ8mGT1Gd63CeWN13UfIcAGNFDsh6njaD82i1zcShrtDCB1hfHMR1Q9ljwYKS0D_YkSgeJeBUt2E06PIIrsHmvYfscvksV8oeXY5dHoQCZr_iAO19DUADoPSIKRpuI6fQGOCQSGlLONZOY7tiAYiBVmc1XQ/w640-h480/IMG_5465.heic" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSSt8DZCMUtHdFU21r8FwHnWFRa8dc_7Fa3GkvpKTEyayW7iZLedKWlIaV1G5fzkcG7qZHiRUEkd0a756tqISZs9VHONJeQ9dATPSaivwwlJETz7Eo0RAqBSrt5xrLIB9AdAPQzUkzDX25NVgtly3cGegd5-zd7SltySDow-fRN3aRFe5lLQ3rrd96sg/s4032/IMG_5469.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSSt8DZCMUtHdFU21r8FwHnWFRa8dc_7Fa3GkvpKTEyayW7iZLedKWlIaV1G5fzkcG7qZHiRUEkd0a756tqISZs9VHONJeQ9dATPSaivwwlJETz7Eo0RAqBSrt5xrLIB9AdAPQzUkzDX25NVgtly3cGegd5-zd7SltySDow-fRN3aRFe5lLQ3rrd96sg/w640-h480/IMG_5469.heic" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjOqvoy4ROxD-7mSRO7q1bZTiHPL6HN9VEtZAglVuXmthXH1ovt9L28LBKMA29wFkB4sXtcdqiuDfBbqi2emwvdwpq39IS0Flw0rWwjk7_9nJbU3sVjNIfMygGZg1w_mP9TRdJ9C9nB2yQ0_iddBcJYsVhCZOYnSx7wrgj5u3jttMp9Zd0x9NTFQPSSg/s2852/IMG_5471.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2139" data-original-width="2852" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjOqvoy4ROxD-7mSRO7q1bZTiHPL6HN9VEtZAglVuXmthXH1ovt9L28LBKMA29wFkB4sXtcdqiuDfBbqi2emwvdwpq39IS0Flw0rWwjk7_9nJbU3sVjNIfMygGZg1w_mP9TRdJ9C9nB2yQ0_iddBcJYsVhCZOYnSx7wrgj5u3jttMp9Zd0x9NTFQPSSg/w640-h480/IMG_5471.heic" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZGjE4VJiTzt_tCq883H9yhAXaYQnJDNHRZnkT47y4N1zWxkhzYhjLfz2ToMEAXDt_lLv8nFnOBj84G50J5YmSfYAdost8tEVvYY8hTXLxRywqQApQ50kEHEAKq06eCESK_Q2y1prtp5v5lxuM00uGQNKdfV9gUWNFlR-jWawmgvRS4OZZ5S8ZCQaYrA/s3201/IMG_5472.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3201" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZGjE4VJiTzt_tCq883H9yhAXaYQnJDNHRZnkT47y4N1zWxkhzYhjLfz2ToMEAXDt_lLv8nFnOBj84G50J5YmSfYAdost8tEVvYY8hTXLxRywqQApQ50kEHEAKq06eCESK_Q2y1prtp5v5lxuM00uGQNKdfV9gUWNFlR-jWawmgvRS4OZZ5S8ZCQaYrA/w640-h480/IMG_5472.heic" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>At camp we made lunch and more coffee and napped in the sun, causing the tops of my feet to bake like lobsters. Bummer. Luckily the campground had an abundance of aloe plants. I picked fistfuls of the spiny leaves and rubbed their gel on my skin. </p><p>We lounged around until evening and then went into Erendira. That night it seemed downright bustling compared to when we drove in the day before. There were a dozen or so people walking or biking on the dusty streets. There were tiendas with their doors open and a small family-owned eatery with its abierto sign flashing and jangling in the evening light. </p><p>It was my first opportunity to practice my Spanish in earnest. There was a family dining in there, their son watching a children's show on his iPad. Like most children's shows, the characters spoke very slowly and clearly. I appreciated this. My Spanish was passable enough to give the family our thanks and graces. I got tacos dorados, which can mean many different things. Tonight it meant fried chicken, and the grease dripped down my chin and onto my pants as I scarfed it down. Not the traditional Mexican meal I had hoped for, but we lacked options. We returned to camp and anxiously awaited any gastrointestinal problems that would follow the next day. </p><p>We got back at dark. That night a Mexican family was hanging around outside one of the half-finished houses below our camp. They built a small fire and from their stereo bopped reggaeton songs with catchy melodies.</p><p>I went to sleep listening to and thinking about this Mexican family who I knew nothing about. </p><p>I woke up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat. Apparently my 20deg down quilt and hoodie were way overkill for the fair Pacific nights. With my bum shoulder, I struggled to peel off my hoodie and from outside of the tent it must have sounded like I was wrestling with Travis or something. I went back to sleep, cool and clammy on my plastic sleeping pad. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvJwCtkB5C__a4QoIzhWTJGpalg6r4fJRbvP-H7ZH8jXy41a9HKUULMl39OAuSMfvu0mN1lLHkSQW9ZJ-SXX0t-rwmuj0Opr5BRHHWlM6biArgHOKneypIz3o6U9Y6m13HK4bIMxSSqcj0sSc-mVLPhFVJJ_E1i6mjNOvDCOO8g-q7zHZ9ywiyOgMAg/s4032/IMG_5475.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvJwCtkB5C__a4QoIzhWTJGpalg6r4fJRbvP-H7ZH8jXy41a9HKUULMl39OAuSMfvu0mN1lLHkSQW9ZJ-SXX0t-rwmuj0Opr5BRHHWlM6biArgHOKneypIz3o6U9Y6m13HK4bIMxSSqcj0sSc-mVLPhFVJJ_E1i6mjNOvDCOO8g-q7zHZ9ywiyOgMAg/w640-h480/IMG_5475.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>The next morning I heard Travis and Evan getting stuff ready. I gave myself an extra 15 minutes of sleep. I needed it. Once up and moving I realized Montezuma exacted a small share of revenge, and I did overtime in the campground’s bathroom. </p><p>We decided to go back to the same spot as yesterday, only this time we'd surf the southern end of the zone. Similar conditions as the day before except a bit bigger and with better shape. The sun was out in full force and illuminated the wave faces cool green. The first hour or two of the sesh was quiet—sets were infrequent and the waves were harder to predict. They would often double up, or surge, crumble, and then resurge. The water was clear through to the bottom, which was nothing but sand. Such a nice day to be in the water. </p><p>3/4 of the way into the session it started pumping chest to head-high, and I caught some of the biggest waves I think I've ever ridden. The 9' let me catch them far on the outside and hang out in the pocket for a while before standing up. I think the move with that 9' is to hang in a prone position in the pocket for a little bit, stand up, and cruise down the face with speed. After getting to the bottom of the face, I distinctly remember that my best waves involved me choking down on the board above the fin, making a hard turn either left or right, and then choking back up and riding the line. It was nice to go face to face with such beautiful, green waves on such a stable, fun board. This was my best session so far. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgzhX07GYPRn_VRu83e3eSY53Ozl0FkQBQFLHEzm1KW_Dvkf69DmdvZZ0uLeVrCk3HszNN7rvIUveHpbzbrKCiPimu7iyCbQ2BZMsiA-C1RtV8fFjd9B6n7-qWpQSjBtDBi3YvSB9G8RvSE8i4l6jGnaWiQcgXYw48Q08gLpSz068IFF157ToIF4sdgg/s3434/IMG_5478.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2576" data-original-width="3434" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgzhX07GYPRn_VRu83e3eSY53Ozl0FkQBQFLHEzm1KW_Dvkf69DmdvZZ0uLeVrCk3HszNN7rvIUveHpbzbrKCiPimu7iyCbQ2BZMsiA-C1RtV8fFjd9B6n7-qWpQSjBtDBi3YvSB9G8RvSE8i4l6jGnaWiQcgXYw48Q08gLpSz068IFF157ToIF4sdgg/w640-h480/IMG_5478.heic" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguX2AVnEl5xb8Io21D_A55mxWNIHuHV36GKcNRr246xpkDc66dJroWi4l1bZkrXybtmUZdFUpJ9Oy9jgp58ki-udcdaLhmdDjxt5GK7J_VJzWDwfNF1NG6R9tTlici4tRC6ygmbem6btrV2fVZzt4aSMN5JZrwfRHXA20mEW7luMnPVkrvjqnD2sfDyw/s3963/IMG_5479.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2972" data-original-width="3963" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguX2AVnEl5xb8Io21D_A55mxWNIHuHV36GKcNRr246xpkDc66dJroWi4l1bZkrXybtmUZdFUpJ9Oy9jgp58ki-udcdaLhmdDjxt5GK7J_VJzWDwfNF1NG6R9tTlici4tRC6ygmbem6btrV2fVZzt4aSMN5JZrwfRHXA20mEW7luMnPVkrvjqnD2sfDyw/w640-h480/IMG_5479.heic" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>Tonight we camp above this beautiful break that we surfed today and the day before, tucked inconspicuously within the dunes. I'm apprehensive about camping in such an isolated spot and am hoping for the best. I've heard bad stories about people in Baja camping off in remote zones only to get held up at gunpoint during the middle of the night. Hopefully these are just the exceptions and not the rule. </p><p>Tomorrow we hope to surf here again in the morning, head into town for some birria, drive back on the MX-1 into Valle de Santo Tomas for some vino, and eventually surf a different break just north of us. Viva Baja.</p><p>JG</p><p>5/26/2022"</p>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-52561169425926637352022-05-30T17:38:00.007-07:002022-05-31T07:08:15.002-07:00Baja Chronicles Pt. 1<p>There's so much I can say about Baja California, but I think it'd take so long to fully process my experience and put it into words. I keep up this little page for fun, and it certainly ain’t payin the bills. </p><p>Let's just say that spending the week surfing in Baja was everything I had hoped for—dreamed of even—and the surfing bug has bit me hard. In fact, I'm finding myself scheming the transition from the dry mountains of Utah to the busy, jam-packed, overpopulated, and polluted Pacific coast. </p><p>But those are just some of the qualities you find in southern California. In Baja, on the other hand, you might find lonely breaks (and there are many)* with nary a soul save for some dolphins, pelicans, and a humpback whale. Sure, you'll find pollution and people, but most of them don't surf—at least in the rural coastal villages that harbor beautiful surf. Those people either fish, work in town, or farm. They're kind, and they smiled at us when our Spanish was bad and waved at us whenever we passed by them on one of Baja's many dubious dirt roads. </p><p>Luckily so much was happening during my trip that I felt like I needed to write it all down every day in my flimsy little soft-spine journal. I took some photos too. I suppose I'll throw it all up on here to commemorate my first surfing trip to Baja. Surely there will be many more (and hopefully with good homies like Travis and Evan). </p><p>*After some consideration I've decided to withhold the names of most of the spots we surfed. They're just too good. But with a little bit of research and map-reading skills, you can probably figure it out. </p><p><br /></p><p><b><u>Days 1 & 2</u>: California, USA and Ejido Erendira, Baja, MX</b></p><p>"Arrived in LA before noon. Travis picked me up all grins and we hit traffic the second we pulled away from the curb. </p><p>LA was somehow both grey and sunny, and unexciting. We met up with Billy in a Rite Aid parking lot where he handed me off his 4/3 wetsuit and a beautiful yellow quad-fin fish, maybe about 5'4". We said we'd see him the following weekend, and he warned us that coming back into the states will take a long, long time due to border crossing bullshit. Noted. </p><p>We hit San Clemente, which on a Sunday felt appropriately busy, which is to say not really busy at all except for the cars on the main drags and the shops with their doors open wide to the street and the fair Pacific coastal summer air. </p><p>I really had to piss. I went into a CVS and of course their bathroom was broken so they told me to use the cafe's across the street. I ran across the street fully expecting the cafe's bathroom to be broken too, but the woman working there sensed desperation in my voice and gracefully gave me the code. I've learned that it's really hard to go to the bathroom in California even when you're buying something. </p><p>Quickly we were out of Orange County and in San Diego County, where there's big expensive stucco homes draping over the dry canyons that spill empty below the highways and into the ocean. Apparently there's a lot of dry canyons in San Diego, and some conservation organization is trying to protect them. Knowing how populated California is makes that seem like a tremendous challenge. Affordable housing or conservation lands? Tough call. </p><p>Pretty soon we were driving through brushy, empty hillsides that were apparently under military jurisdiction. We passed San Onofre, one of southern California's finest longboarding waves. I couldn't stop thinking about surfing. </p><p>This part of southern California felt conservative and quintessentially American. Here we were on the great coast of the greatest ocean in the greatest country in the world, and all we have to show for that is private property and military defense. </p><p>We eventually arrived at our destination for the night, Solano Beach, which according to Travis meant that everyone who lives here must be related to Jeff Bezos in some way. It was nice, there were more big stucco ranchettes with manicured front lawns and xeriscaped yards sloping into the dry canyons. The nicest houses were on the canyon rims while the highways and strip malls sat in the wooded, dreamy canyon bottoms. </p><p>At one of those nice canyon rim homes we were greeted by Evan and James. James seemed to be an encyclopedia for all things Baja [we later learned that his dad had been surfing in Baja for over 35 years]. He was over the moon to fill our ears with sage advice, and he provided us with so much gear and information that I don't know how we'll ever repay him. Plus, he gave us couches and floors to sleep on. </p><p>We hung around for the evening, dug Encinitas, talked Baja, and James gave us some final remarks about dealing with policia municipales and re-entering the country (go to the 'ready lane'!!!). All of this information made trip logistics feel daunting, but none of it seemed real and soon enough I was fast asleep on a pullout couch in a home office, dreaming of nothing and waking up on my back, pleased with how rested I felt. </p><p>We had a nice breakfast of eggs, cheese, and spinach and packed the car. Leaving for a trip like this always takes longer than I anticipate. Things don't fit inside the car quite the way you want, and everyone's gotta attend to their pre-trip tasks, errands, etc. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEBkdkjXCgbbP8DYIh5sOl8GiBiGm2yvRjaRVfFl2LShKmM1t-2OJPxYVC7UVJc1X3RLCvNRCZxflrDAJzUZdkFXVR815bZfFUqez_loolPpajIP_fWBPhaNWyXA-rR0tacnmmx2PT1OmhZUmmqZVnBgOOKn-T2CednT_tjHunNKGx4hDRdw9Ta9C0Sw/s4032/IMG_5428.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEBkdkjXCgbbP8DYIh5sOl8GiBiGm2yvRjaRVfFl2LShKmM1t-2OJPxYVC7UVJc1X3RLCvNRCZxflrDAJzUZdkFXVR815bZfFUqez_loolPpajIP_fWBPhaNWyXA-rR0tacnmmx2PT1OmhZUmmqZVnBgOOKn-T2CednT_tjHunNKGx4hDRdw9Ta9C0Sw/w640-h480/IMG_5428.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>It was cool and foggy outside and the air smelled like hydrangea. We grabbed some solar-res from a surf shop, I grabbed a bean from an industrial-feeling coffeeshop that played jazz music, and we were finally Mexico-bound at 10:15 AM. </p><p>The rest of San Diego more or less blended together and reaching the border was quick and almost too easy. You're on the US interstate and suddenly the residential areas disappear, the border wall appears, and there it is, perched up on scrubby, eroded hills, every inch a slum overlooking the turdy Tijuana River: Mexico. Once you cross into Mexico, there's a handful of official-looking people bumbling around, hardly interested in the Gringos speeding gleefully and scared into their poorer, more exciting country. </p><p>We were told to avoid driving through Tijuana at all costs so we took the scenic road south instead. We still got a taste of Tijuana as we drove north along the graffitied shanties, watching grave Mexicans—some with mattress frames straddled across their backs—run across the busy highway. </p><p>The shift from the states to Mexico was jarring. It was still foggy, gloomy, and there lingered a general feeling of unease. This feeling continued all the way down the coast through Ensenada, punctuated only by the gorgeous viewpoint overlooking Salsipuedes, the greatest wave in Baja Norte [that's supposedly closed off due to privatization].</p><p>Ensanada was busy and had a distinctly foreign feel—lots of Mexican chain establishments and American chain establishments with different menu items (extra mayo), holes in the wall, and food carts. The wide, potholed road through Ensanada dragged on and contained barely noticeable 'Alto' signs roughly every mile, presumably signifying pedestrian walkways that were too easy to miss. </p><p>Travis nearly missed a stoplight denoting a very busy intersection, and we watched in horror as four lanes of Monday afternoon Mexican traffic came barreling in toward us from either direction. With much skill Travis maneuvered his car just in time, but we nearly got t-boned from both directions (cross-boned?). It was a great reminder to not get too comfortable here in Mexico. </p><p>Leaving Ensanada we were slightly worried about the military checkpoint, which the guidebook mentioned required a visa to pass. We had no visas, and thankfully the military paid no attention to us as we passed through the checkpoint. </p><p>After the checkpoint the fog and gloom cleared and so did our minds and hearts. The foreign hustle and bustle of Ensanada was behind us and ahead was the golden, steep, brushy hills of Valle de Santo Tomas, with its sleepy tiendas and ranchos and bodegas. This was the Baja for which I came and it was splendid. </p><p>We continued to wind through the dry hills, leaving the valley and heading back toward the coast. We reached the fishing village of Ejido Erendira. Most of the tiendas were closed but there were people milling about their houses and bashful children looking out at us from windows. </p><p>We turned onto the rugged beach access road which would take us to camp for the night: a gringo outpost called Coyote Cal's. When we arrived Cal was very brief with us as he had to meet in the parking lot with two young officers who worked for the municipality of Ensanada. Listening to him speak Spanish to them was very funny. He had the language mechanics and vocabulary of Dale Gribble, with the laidback delivery of a SoCal surfer. But he seemed nice enough and kept a welcoming hostel. </p><p>We threw our shit down at the campsite and were greeted by a thirsty doberman pinscher, its tongue lolling about as it loped around camp. It had massive cojones but was very relaxed. If this was what you'd call a third-world dog, he sure was a friendly one. We named him Chupito and he followed us up our short walk to the top of a dirt hill that overlooked the campsite and some potential surf. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLywnjwdaAyRNRzsfETZyjJMA0DUekQZtydOicysRclrdgCEko_r6Lk793jSLMNee9yyIgIJC2ql2kFiilk4jgLd4lxiahF6Hw4iNCAXg3lC3fkADnsU5y4BK0Yg4psus9dKQPiRMJDU7K0CHMcE5BoTIJQR6QNSGfpUBSrWrC0EUVi_bBLOw2Gl28vQ/s2830/IMG_5438.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2122" data-original-width="2830" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLywnjwdaAyRNRzsfETZyjJMA0DUekQZtydOicysRclrdgCEko_r6Lk793jSLMNee9yyIgIJC2ql2kFiilk4jgLd4lxiahF6Hw4iNCAXg3lC3fkADnsU5y4BK0Yg4psus9dKQPiRMJDU7K0CHMcE5BoTIJQR6QNSGfpUBSrWrC0EUVi_bBLOw2Gl28vQ/w640-h480/IMG_5438.heic" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw91kOHTS0lQhUU6OPi6N_MKADIdar2NKem4HQmxXhkhq0MXPYEE7CdoOx8OvlF4rVr06qeE9F_F_nHG-zN0I97blRO55wNE_O9noRJ0VYeRDcnZG38rOnzwx0S6OJYeHXHNSRGi46zTsyjVldCRl6E6hIE95fQJf3xGS0WN2Ml3sQ6MvihLCXiwObvA/s4032/IMG_5439.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw91kOHTS0lQhUU6OPi6N_MKADIdar2NKem4HQmxXhkhq0MXPYEE7CdoOx8OvlF4rVr06qeE9F_F_nHG-zN0I97blRO55wNE_O9noRJ0VYeRDcnZG38rOnzwx0S6OJYeHXHNSRGi46zTsyjVldCRl6E6hIE95fQJf3xGS0WN2Ml3sQ6MvihLCXiwObvA/w640-h480/IMG_5439.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHy1yG4bQ8jru48f57v9Y-C9rW8ZRhyngqXzD6HPO7Ia2cPM1sIUlVHUObafmLy3IcR2ibC6k17xVfvQAkPLxe9oD_6w4ZlXRge2G4YWrk807CM7LUTB3w13KYAjVgZmQBm9v_l81jp9mvi6qI8TAm9Me_7SeFzTOms0wuk0tHgtMnU_u-L2ADvin6QA/s4032/IMG_5441.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHy1yG4bQ8jru48f57v9Y-C9rW8ZRhyngqXzD6HPO7Ia2cPM1sIUlVHUObafmLy3IcR2ibC6k17xVfvQAkPLxe9oD_6w4ZlXRge2G4YWrk807CM7LUTB3w13KYAjVgZmQBm9v_l81jp9mvi6qI8TAm9Me_7SeFzTOms0wuk0tHgtMnU_u-L2ADvin6QA/w640-h480/IMG_5441.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>After finding little surf directly north of the hostel, we decided to get in the car and drive and scope. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiij41stmk-V_Q3eQK90cVmYubObNzX4nOr-gnH6frSoYzR9f1jJG3GobHDgtwRJy0j60n22NzDllpWV2k4ySuAtGsap3pE-8ui2rRI4rZUK7eb1tfCdWcykxK0MCJ_ysFuUwLzEWl98q5W15NdkeuKUtMmXm2wSPjOnt_vZ_-fiKzgQv2h8MHF0FqWPQ/s2962/13EA3F9B-50B1-4A29-8560-92C731EA33CA.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2222" data-original-width="2962" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiij41stmk-V_Q3eQK90cVmYubObNzX4nOr-gnH6frSoYzR9f1jJG3GobHDgtwRJy0j60n22NzDllpWV2k4ySuAtGsap3pE-8ui2rRI4rZUK7eb1tfCdWcykxK0MCJ_ysFuUwLzEWl98q5W15NdkeuKUtMmXm2wSPjOnt_vZ_-fiKzgQv2h8MHF0FqWPQ/w640-h480/13EA3F9B-50B1-4A29-8560-92C731EA33CA.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>The road we took ended at an idyllic cove which had surf. Long, frown-shaped crumbly beach break, but glassy and with a sandy beach entrance. It was empty, and the parking lot was guarded by a squatter, who lived in what looked like a converted airplane hangar replete with a watchtower. Later I would speak bad Spanish to the man, who told me he worked on boats and that there were "olas mejores" just further north.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqf6E8uzo-a4AIrtB554DhcQILJzu0OZBhnE1iQIbvrUZ1GEx1KRcaW-eXf4Lx14mtOeW3rl7smvuq1wP8F2aH1dQ0K5vBihv2LV2Vdge71eQ6JtnFrdgjm76xqX8qZrUc2u2dRtRko-RbXXr7bpk_iGjTelWMvjZ1whYpRQjrwb45gzDC_izyda5_Sw/s4032/IMG_5449.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqf6E8uzo-a4AIrtB554DhcQILJzu0OZBhnE1iQIbvrUZ1GEx1KRcaW-eXf4Lx14mtOeW3rl7smvuq1wP8F2aH1dQ0K5vBihv2LV2Vdge71eQ6JtnFrdgjm76xqX8qZrUc2u2dRtRko-RbXXr7bpk_iGjTelWMvjZ1whYpRQjrwb45gzDC_izyda5_Sw/w640-h480/IMG_5449.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdrQlHjvgjR7XOC2rCA2-WmpHz12PppOgEaYdVzIUD6-ictY4hTRrGkHMi1HyEtJ7SqVR-ZyNk9XoBsbPel2Fmi7mimy7BT_E_R93FSJhrvJcHzCOcqhcGkbTMEtVb00mkgK5fNZtc46AXb3LsvwJE6dkd0hFscoGCTB_dLeCAcH706ne5oabo7d9XGw/s4032/IMG_5450.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdrQlHjvgjR7XOC2rCA2-WmpHz12PppOgEaYdVzIUD6-ictY4hTRrGkHMi1HyEtJ7SqVR-ZyNk9XoBsbPel2Fmi7mimy7BT_E_R93FSJhrvJcHzCOcqhcGkbTMEtVb00mkgK5fNZtc46AXb3LsvwJE6dkd0hFscoGCTB_dLeCAcH706ne5oabo7d9XGw/w640-h480/IMG_5450.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>We eventually paddled in, and wow, the water was in fact very cold. I knew it would feel pleasantly coastal, but the chill in the air and the water took me by surprise. We enjoyed surfing the empty cove, scoring chest-high crumble that came in sets of three or four. I surfed Travis' 9 footer and had a blast. Plus, my shoulder was feeling strong and I had plenty good rides—partly because I went for every ripple that put me in a good position. Normally, I'm stressing a bit about managing the crowd and other people. But the only other people out there with me were Travis and Evan, who didn't care how well I surfed and were happy to share waves. </p><p>We headed back to camp, ate a big pasta supper, and quietly retired to our respective dens. </p><p>Hard saying how wet the morning fog will make our tents/shelters. Hopefully I can sleep under the stars one of these nights with the sound of the ocean in my ears. I haven't done that since the Florida days... </p><p>If this Baja trip is anything like this evening, I'm overjoyed.</p><p>JG, 5/23/2022"</p>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-17536721537835737692022-05-18T10:07:00.003-07:002022-05-18T10:12:31.833-07:00Southern Swell Backpacking Overnight<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Law school has ended, and a few months back Vitor and I talked about doing something adventurous during the first week of May. Due to various injuries and logistical complications we had to nix our climbing plans (Yosemite? Black Canyon?) and we started narrowing down alternatives.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We kind of wanted to ski, but we really wanted to bike. After talking through some multi-sport ideas, we finally settled on a bikepacking trip. Vitor sent me a <a href="https://bikepacking.com/routes/swell-night-out/">loop published through Bikepacking mag</a>; it covers nearly the entire zone of the San Rafael Swell that lies behind the "Reef." Thus, the route starts on the eponymous Behind the Reef Road, continues on high Sinbad Country, drops down into the wild Mars-scape that is Red's Canyon, climbs back up onto Sinbad Country, and ends behind the Reef. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When I saw the route I was immediately drawn to it because it covered a substantial portion of the 'southern' Swell (the section below Interstate 70), an area that left a huge gap in my San Rafael Swell resume. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For some reason the creators of the loop write about it on the mag as if they have to sell it to unsuspecting bikers. I guess nearby Fruita and Moab are pretty good for mountain biking. It's funny because I would choose exploring the Swell 10x over exploring any of those areas, which I think are crowded with bikers and other motorists on any given day. On the other hand, each time I visit the Swell I only see a handful of other people (save for the popular trailheads/jump off points) and I think it's some of the most wild country in this state. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That's all to say I didn't need much convincing, even if I lacked both a capable bike and bikepacking gear. Oh well. This route seemed too good to pass up, so I rented a hardtail from REI and my neighbor let me borrow some of his bikepacking gear. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The day of setting out, I loaded up the bike and thought "what the fuck, this is never going to go." With the storage capacity I had (~25 liters with my running vest, saddlebag, and handlebar bag), I doubted this would be enough to sustain me for 2-3 days. Vitor consoled me and said that he felt the same way when he packed his bike, and that I could certainly make it work. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After removing several "essential items" and finding a way to rig my 4L bladder to the frame, I felt a bit more comfortable and believed that I could indeed make this work. Still, I was apprehensive. This was the most minimal I had gone on any overnight outing including the ultralight outings Libby and I have done in the desert.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Anyhow, Vitor and I pointed it down to the Swell on Wednesday evening. We staged a car at Tan Seep with a cooler full of beer, cheese, and water, assuming we would spend the second night there. After leaving the car, we arrived at Temple Mtn. Campground at around 11:30 and went to sleep. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The next morning we made an aggressive amount of chorizo chili and scarfed it down burrito-style, ultimately setting off at around 9. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUUT_7RrIZkb9WtZk9TEuhjGME3wgu4Qy-rzx2Tzs8UAMxq8NcM27zNFGUAgBAxF-z4DO4PBS8z7v_LD8rYSydykL8QD0cQb7K3BWc99wTdUG1tyK8l3yZxsOAwArDrtM9kuNCSdpbqYDiYnSUCPT2jkyf4IT7pTJQ11TgHBYeldCYGkTcdjrkFtsBlA/s4032/IMG_5263.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUUT_7RrIZkb9WtZk9TEuhjGME3wgu4Qy-rzx2Tzs8UAMxq8NcM27zNFGUAgBAxF-z4DO4PBS8z7v_LD8rYSydykL8QD0cQb7K3BWc99wTdUG1tyK8l3yZxsOAwArDrtM9kuNCSdpbqYDiYnSUCPT2jkyf4IT7pTJQ11TgHBYeldCYGkTcdjrkFtsBlA/w640-h480/IMG_5263.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After doing a couple of getting to know you laps on our loaded bikes, we were off. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjclrufwXMIhP3LsNuhdeICx9ypTLSSEIIwaGmQZ8J1dv4VzHPg_5eCbG8loff8rNR1F_McMoIr-ojh56sFqNUrjxNSEWUrkTQuIc_sMSWZ1l0_4TDU6YxMYN6dI2HxI2aC_C-XaAbowkKcVQ808pVJa3UZ1VdJQptbIDemkKyFdci3jd5HbL0vgqaspA/s4032/IMG_5264.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjclrufwXMIhP3LsNuhdeICx9ypTLSSEIIwaGmQZ8J1dv4VzHPg_5eCbG8loff8rNR1F_McMoIr-ojh56sFqNUrjxNSEWUrkTQuIc_sMSWZ1l0_4TDU6YxMYN6dI2HxI2aC_C-XaAbowkKcVQ808pVJa3UZ1VdJQptbIDemkKyFdci3jd5HbL0vgqaspA/w640-h480/IMG_5264.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>I was overly caffeinated and breezed through the first miles with a huge shit-eating grin. Here I was on my first bikepack—endless blue sky, nary a cloud, light and nimble as an antelope. My bike didn't feel unnecessarily cumbersome and my padded liner shorts felt downright luxurious. This was going to be a great day. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qnD9fSxyz_w" width="320" youtube-src-id="qnD9fSxyz_w"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>High pressure and sunshine dominated the sky throughout the morning hours. A slight breeze kept the sweat localized only to the small square of my back on which my runner vest rested. Things went very smoothly and we made the occasional stop to gawk at all of the geologic wonders, including remnants of the area's mining history. </p><p>Apparently this history resulted in plenty of dubious jalopies being abandoned on the side of some lonely and improbable road. I'm still processing the fact that these roads, treacherous as they are, were in fact roads on which passenger cars would drive. </p><p>These days, leaving the house and all of its domestic comforts to head deep into the Swell seems desirable—downright cool, even. But perhaps a century ago it seemed 100% crazy.</p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIMg9O787Oq4ogXqoCMBCYxeSfHONenpg7WeW-Hxg6iskSNyF3YBBjBnDkTpg_A0CjPWtk9Wgx0lNpqXO9mLF_cuV8wHyfVuTqbrahmq_5TNsNqI-X05_XUDVLE3-HPh_mTVah9W047xlEyB_SV9xAuypSgTxWUGduM7KVxwlb-FQsB3c29yEK42DG3g/s4032/IMG_5267.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIMg9O787Oq4ogXqoCMBCYxeSfHONenpg7WeW-Hxg6iskSNyF3YBBjBnDkTpg_A0CjPWtk9Wgx0lNpqXO9mLF_cuV8wHyfVuTqbrahmq_5TNsNqI-X05_XUDVLE3-HPh_mTVah9W047xlEyB_SV9xAuypSgTxWUGduM7KVxwlb-FQsB3c29yEK42DG3g/w640-h480/IMG_5267.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUW861R4nA5k6OPJwIpWQBsQTLSqu6SXo3DKYFMf3peDTbywcDJjx0rT_1xkFk-5ign9cH4__bLyForh6Yr1l8JyummYl-nTxqCUDSON3EKRliQjuv6_7gETEClLfy0U6AGd2ssSdTCAWu3-157UWyjZGuvf_eTM7OMJGJUmcHnxmCD1lXAP8nj2F6Fg/s4032/IMG_5275.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUW861R4nA5k6OPJwIpWQBsQTLSqu6SXo3DKYFMf3peDTbywcDJjx0rT_1xkFk-5ign9cH4__bLyForh6Yr1l8JyummYl-nTxqCUDSON3EKRliQjuv6_7gETEClLfy0U6AGd2ssSdTCAWu3-157UWyjZGuvf_eTM7OMJGJUmcHnxmCD1lXAP8nj2F6Fg/w640-h480/IMG_5275.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>We continued to pedal through the rugged but mostly manageable Behind the Reef Road; the climbs and descents were both a breeze.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/atxvwsrGpSs" width="320" youtube-src-id="atxvwsrGpSs"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmT_ZXU3azwh5zK0Y9NihhGHlkVmZk6vWeiYlFhxGI5Jv0md5Gt0ayIeELGFfjBU5V6iAtSl7I8G39npdHFXMOffAoNRK-2tlm-0FgyV1IHqa0xg-hl7sDX1ZQ6mMKFTeJ63dRrbStUQ1Mel973--iHtmK0IpMsoFwceVyEJAPyBapYpd3b9FYRssS9A/s4032/IMG_5269.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmT_ZXU3azwh5zK0Y9NihhGHlkVmZk6vWeiYlFhxGI5Jv0md5Gt0ayIeELGFfjBU5V6iAtSl7I8G39npdHFXMOffAoNRK-2tlm-0FgyV1IHqa0xg-hl7sDX1ZQ6mMKFTeJ63dRrbStUQ1Mel973--iHtmK0IpMsoFwceVyEJAPyBapYpd3b9FYRssS9A/w640-h480/IMG_5269.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgitha6vgAAXLUlrBY4i0lJfc6NkfUayanMZUNR3Qh-vCT1eYqDTkabecPfixhVvfY4jDbPzr5QP_TR4uVGDuv0IkPneEAi8W6ZWvslegpH6u4zE1LOY9IhzMZMxwK0uXkqwwI9CxLXD5PeelwRFcw-hkBd1HWx8Vz8ClSgsRtZCo00h3JTXM4Z5mKSdQ/s4032/IMG_5280.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgitha6vgAAXLUlrBY4i0lJfc6NkfUayanMZUNR3Qh-vCT1eYqDTkabecPfixhVvfY4jDbPzr5QP_TR4uVGDuv0IkPneEAi8W6ZWvslegpH6u4zE1LOY9IhzMZMxwK0uXkqwwI9CxLXD5PeelwRFcw-hkBd1HWx8Vz8ClSgsRtZCo00h3JTXM4Z5mKSdQ/w640-h480/IMG_5280.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>The heat of the day caught up to us, and things started to feel pretty dang western by the time we dropped into Cistern Canyon. I had to hike my bike for most of this descent, as my saddlebag prevented me from utilizing my dropper post. It was a steep incline with lots of football-sized cobbles and stones and loose sand. Dropping into the Wash proper was sandy and technical.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg81pWI8FqGWKC0n5C7DZz9gakcApkNqbhYVzYKeQVNAcSMV8QXd4CT59tLqwsj_so5lxbg3QSCvAeCn0kue32XWkrjzGequLTY06o5qMq-2xXyPMlMezK0pxq0_4ZdkJEh2hKmX0UuDzR14E3tpv1lgvRQpN86Do_zaojcw0x4YXWZH6tlUkxX8D0HIw/s4032/IMG_5283.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg81pWI8FqGWKC0n5C7DZz9gakcApkNqbhYVzYKeQVNAcSMV8QXd4CT59tLqwsj_so5lxbg3QSCvAeCn0kue32XWkrjzGequLTY06o5qMq-2xXyPMlMezK0pxq0_4ZdkJEh2hKmX0UuDzR14E3tpv1lgvRQpN86Do_zaojcw0x4YXWZH6tlUkxX8D0HIw/w480-h640/IMG_5283.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpEPSPgdEL4sDHBHq8xKDb7BD2jFiJnC27bbQKmy2vEY_6N18t9AempG8R5LgfvowfllkCHfr3qgmyWPL4rVNNg1yL6G3cnNTMIebY3HzQqA7-9GXcAYe-kArmpH4F4ss9kNc04UL8_xjXwQKDOY7QwBTcCKhYJKKin-JwGTBG1AcxYDtOWWtYA321HQ/s4032/IMG_5285.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpEPSPgdEL4sDHBHq8xKDb7BD2jFiJnC27bbQKmy2vEY_6N18t9AempG8R5LgfvowfllkCHfr3qgmyWPL4rVNNg1yL6G3cnNTMIebY3HzQqA7-9GXcAYe-kArmpH4F4ss9kNc04UL8_xjXwQKDOY7QwBTcCKhYJKKin-JwGTBG1AcxYDtOWWtYA321HQ/w640-h480/IMG_5285.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>We took our first real break of the day, eating lunch in the shade of a massive boulder. Before dropping into Cistern, we had a good look at the ascent back out. It did not look easy nor fun (it can be seen in the middle of the following photo, cutting a diagonal path through the escarpment).</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgru2SXPl9LnrkjuvfpZ9LsogyQcdzh5EWWsPkpf3PzF1gSxzm9dfoOCqDMIqVRnKUNbhl43auA2AY3LZEpsAVpnCdn-xyRubkSps3O67SaevCmPA9ffMOZC-45nIijUbWAInB88tDiunUHJaNjOOYdepeQLwV4MBdJTlk37V4QEvta4-pqBKt_zHQl0g/s4032/IMG_5284.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgru2SXPl9LnrkjuvfpZ9LsogyQcdzh5EWWsPkpf3PzF1gSxzm9dfoOCqDMIqVRnKUNbhl43auA2AY3LZEpsAVpnCdn-xyRubkSps3O67SaevCmPA9ffMOZC-45nIijUbWAInB88tDiunUHJaNjOOYdepeQLwV4MBdJTlk37V4QEvta4-pqBKt_zHQl0g/w640-h480/IMG_5284.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>And so after forcing down some trail mix and a Complete Cookie (which I've realized I can barely stomach), we made the climb out of Cistern very slowly, hiking much of the way under the blazing sun. The air was dead still, the sun high. Sweat stung my eyes. </p><p>Just as I began to feel slightly demoralized, I came across this massive boulder with delicate ripples, cantilevered on a protrusion of hardened sand. The rock was good and the angle on the rippled face was fierce. This could be one of the coolest lowball boulder problems in the desert. If only I had a penny for every classic boulder miles from anywhere... </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhetvjC_qqm9zQm8OYyV7rsMi0tRLGNR5JFsASbICNtWoQ_Pv0vAYanKvXFkzAaYPp2nA0qXqDsaxlVyLcTIyCOReQqp-4ES4hdW7wMIGJhRxTtWLOGTXvl8HihrWriy54xIhyaJsBMQHku0tGKVfWMTAAI1FYKxFntQoqQ0pbgqoyrU7RgItX9pVKCg/s4032/IMG_5286.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhetvjC_qqm9zQm8OYyV7rsMi0tRLGNR5JFsASbICNtWoQ_Pv0vAYanKvXFkzAaYPp2nA0qXqDsaxlVyLcTIyCOReQqp-4ES4hdW7wMIGJhRxTtWLOGTXvl8HihrWriy54xIhyaJsBMQHku0tGKVfWMTAAI1FYKxFntQoqQ0pbgqoyrU7RgItX9pVKCg/w640-h480/IMG_5286.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>After ascending out of Cistern Canyon, we picked up an improved road that climbed at a gradual, easy grade. We looked at the map and confirmed that this would be our big (and final) climb of the day. After the previous rocky, sandy hike-a-bike ascent, I was ecstatic to be on smoother gravel and just steadily grinding up a long hill.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwOpEWiGu00Sdmhk2NzxAmzzFXm3hOfl4JXA1GNy4hlGDUqvXyjDVV45_G_vnGOWAQ469ioeNeJ8vdR7HIGTfr0t8X48wkrTCHbe5lqKmONpzFkphGms6Rhm7NmFJmNVXTOKbKekAAixcSNBbKcCxziRX5Df3YANtADZXizHaI003Fu0YOBClDgZxp_w/s4032/IMG_5289.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwOpEWiGu00Sdmhk2NzxAmzzFXm3hOfl4JXA1GNy4hlGDUqvXyjDVV45_G_vnGOWAQ469ioeNeJ8vdR7HIGTfr0t8X48wkrTCHbe5lqKmONpzFkphGms6Rhm7NmFJmNVXTOKbKekAAixcSNBbKcCxziRX5Df3YANtADZXizHaI003Fu0YOBClDgZxp_w/w640-h480/IMG_5289.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>I started to tap into my reserve water about 3/4 of the way through this climb, and it was sort of fun to think through the scenario where we arrive at camp to a completely dry Muddy Creek. </p><p>After topping out of the climb, we saw in the distance an obvious strip of bright green Cottonwoods. Camp?! Water?!</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6KHTX2HmML3-kE71IyGi9QX9RcOJOVgR-wECzgR9gK1Ourup_b6wAVl1_bZzHQPeToLDE7J0_Pql0fkvHssTsoFZZOxckSUV18lilSo2DpWZaT9uPYW3NXSI6Mf7gWYr638Z7oU6KzvCNfBeujtaynUAEmmKYt0BXAWrF5vLlbJBDjXAEcR6doGYrkw/s4032/IMG_5294.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6KHTX2HmML3-kE71IyGi9QX9RcOJOVgR-wECzgR9gK1Ourup_b6wAVl1_bZzHQPeToLDE7J0_Pql0fkvHssTsoFZZOxckSUV18lilSo2DpWZaT9uPYW3NXSI6Mf7gWYr638Z7oU6KzvCNfBeujtaynUAEmmKYt0BXAWrF5vLlbJBDjXAEcR6doGYrkw/w640-h480/IMG_5294.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>With good improved roads and lots of psych for a water refill, the long descent into Red's Canyon was lightning fast.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/YVYptltoDx0" width="320" youtube-src-id="YVYptltoDx0"></iframe></div><br /><p>We made it to a beautiful, dusty camp right above Muddy Creek, which was mostly clear and a little more than ankle deep. Before filtering the following day's water, I took some time to soak in the creek and decompress after a long day. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaLQZwPc3Q_ck5PzTzpaVkAzHbczt_7lUfe5gs02yYgBbqETw8lQaj4vx8OkCtwtjgx5mYvb3bC-t1kJwTAEDlqfsuJ2BIxFTGA3ySfv0s5bSCGmQmFL2xdV7Sy8zu_OS1YPJVvzKu_YL2B9Q4zhXbULcjBn69n-ipyzmU__GzIR2Q0gO70TYmRhysyw/s4032/IMG_5298.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaLQZwPc3Q_ck5PzTzpaVkAzHbczt_7lUfe5gs02yYgBbqETw8lQaj4vx8OkCtwtjgx5mYvb3bC-t1kJwTAEDlqfsuJ2BIxFTGA3ySfv0s5bSCGmQmFL2xdV7Sy8zu_OS1YPJVvzKu_YL2B9Q4zhXbULcjBn69n-ipyzmU__GzIR2Q0gO70TYmRhysyw/w640-h480/IMG_5298.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPT6OZ62zv6wPbxwLHVzbxGoNYfsKQvk8SKTqwe0FbLmXag65h-NdyjDgmrrrYjWUBzmAW852GkKE8kWP0xc-udfoDH7WoepdRWFC8GRxY7CycJ_Yhla18n7HxwN3mp_RpdrljouOvOIjA006RmBa3Kltttc2JHPDH9wMq9pXp2j9rD0CeoBrjtx2eNA/s4032/IMG_5297.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPT6OZ62zv6wPbxwLHVzbxGoNYfsKQvk8SKTqwe0FbLmXag65h-NdyjDgmrrrYjWUBzmAW852GkKE8kWP0xc-udfoDH7WoepdRWFC8GRxY7CycJ_Yhla18n7HxwN3mp_RpdrljouOvOIjA006RmBa3Kltttc2JHPDH9wMq9pXp2j9rD0CeoBrjtx2eNA/w640-h480/IMG_5297.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>After filtering for a bit (about one backflush for every 2 liters filtered), I was ready to settle into camp. That typically means sitting down, eating, and getting right into my bag for bed. One of the reasons I love backpacking (and now bikepacking I guess) is because it pares life down to its most basic: you move all day, singularly focused on getting to point B, and then when you're at point B you can just chill the fuck out, eat, and go to sleep. So that's exactly what I did. I popped a melatonin and it had my eyes feeling heavy within minutes. </p><p>Oh yeah, this wild horse came by our camp right as we were settling in. It was pretty friendly/unexcitable for a wild animal. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZRiSD2A--7ffWUbuCEmp2HIQlMgveg9ATIkwtdet1-4tfhMMGodckW-FVH8z6Dpc9Kg3PMF6uTRaDKo0jmL-U2JfFXp14hqfn-xivJraz_PtmMaQ9N4rGv8zsVwpixMZf60pKZ3AP4INFzokXyvVvUbbOwVNoDAuaaVf0-BVj9wgvAfjpFia4hbUAOA/s4032/IMG_5299.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZRiSD2A--7ffWUbuCEmp2HIQlMgveg9ATIkwtdet1-4tfhMMGodckW-FVH8z6Dpc9Kg3PMF6uTRaDKo0jmL-U2JfFXp14hqfn-xivJraz_PtmMaQ9N4rGv8zsVwpixMZf60pKZ3AP4INFzokXyvVvUbbOwVNoDAuaaVf0-BVj9wgvAfjpFia4hbUAOA/w640-h480/IMG_5299.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>I probably slept for about 10 hours of middling quality. It was all I needed because I woke up feeling rested and surprisingly not sore. Another nice thing about these minimalist adventures is that there's a relatively small amount of overhead—breaking down camp and getting things ready for the day only takes about 15 minutes. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRORTEIUc5kZutDG6-_qJL3JEa0OcxsYEcmQcrLUYEGY4Iz_mB0fDIHxpnDPGQpQ_rnpMHV9kcHzGULU3N0HAeGhFp1rhD--rs6NLBFABRXpXpbS9fYrQiMeN2QRB-Ml4-iSbS5mPC9d2_bVlBGXU0kIQHlNtgo_01KtBi5ySef88RDuPsMqH8XNPjbg/s3674/IMG_5302.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2756" data-original-width="3674" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRORTEIUc5kZutDG6-_qJL3JEa0OcxsYEcmQcrLUYEGY4Iz_mB0fDIHxpnDPGQpQ_rnpMHV9kcHzGULU3N0HAeGhFp1rhD--rs6NLBFABRXpXpbS9fYrQiMeN2QRB-Ml4-iSbS5mPC9d2_bVlBGXU0kIQHlNtgo_01KtBi5ySef88RDuPsMqH8XNPjbg/w640-h480/IMG_5302.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/c9c97ObuNNM" width="320" youtube-src-id="c9c97ObuNNM"></iframe></div><p><br /></p><p>After some decent instant coffee (the key is to triple the recommended amount of coffee per serving) and a Very Scenic Poop, we were off at around 8:30 and fairly confident that we'd make it to Vitor's car at Tan Seep around noon. </p><p>Red's Canyon was a trip. We spotted yet another cabin, more abandoned jalopies, and some of the coolest striated sandstone I've ever seen. Super Mario Stone. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/sj72kSK7uwQ" width="320" youtube-src-id="sj72kSK7uwQ"></iframe></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCbzwIJK5K0htbA0xD6PptgqwsEO3lVzlXweFM1ryK9eQj5nBZ5SdsNzy-fMKrzsT5ZJ94HTQi5400GvsNiNQknG5Mj3mE_jaxPli2_9ZFjwq9yAZovj9Sj69ssuck1di1pSwmbeoxd7AqcpuQFhx8RWLosMLjkgWxEL3ZR1qWJ0Vg_1HE7EEKgpao9w/s4032/IMG_5307.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCbzwIJK5K0htbA0xD6PptgqwsEO3lVzlXweFM1ryK9eQj5nBZ5SdsNzy-fMKrzsT5ZJ94HTQi5400GvsNiNQknG5Mj3mE_jaxPli2_9ZFjwq9yAZovj9Sj69ssuck1di1pSwmbeoxd7AqcpuQFhx8RWLosMLjkgWxEL3ZR1qWJ0Vg_1HE7EEKgpao9w/w640-h480/IMG_5307.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>It was apparent pretty quickly that the sun would be much stronger today than the day before. The idea was to crank out the big ascent to Tan Seep, refuel and nap at Vitor's car in the shade, and finish the day off in the cooler late-afternoon hours. </p><p>The climb out of Red's Canyon was uneventful if not consistent. The towering Wingate/Navajo sandstone walls to our N-NW provided some eye candy and daydreams about being scared and up high. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-QCeUzRAhH2Hrld50t33m6gcrhyqP1KPJ4hShuSY4r6CzjLjZV8hpJ34uexOpYWdAJPSrPBYvopemBHzDgm_7qeRbZQ21ZwMEfknltlSgmZ5bKWm6wE2Hkr9p0THZ9gdzK5y9Xv-e-dMS1BsO6RkUvQccIFxv4I_b8T9pGQWKx8kUebLZQDRFOy-uvw/s4032/IMG_5309.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-QCeUzRAhH2Hrld50t33m6gcrhyqP1KPJ4hShuSY4r6CzjLjZV8hpJ34uexOpYWdAJPSrPBYvopemBHzDgm_7qeRbZQ21ZwMEfknltlSgmZ5bKWm6wE2Hkr9p0THZ9gdzK5y9Xv-e-dMS1BsO6RkUvQccIFxv4I_b8T9pGQWKx8kUebLZQDRFOy-uvw/w640-h480/IMG_5309.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>During this climb, Vitor and I had a very high-frequency conversation about life, motivation in the hills, developing and maintaining relationships, etc. It seemed to me that my motivations have changed pretty considerably over the years. Where I used to be very objective-oriented, I now find myself prioritizing the <i>people</i> with whom I head into the mountains rather than the mountains themselves. Leading up to this trip, I could've told Vitor, "Well, I'm in good climbing shape so I'm going to climb. Sorry bud!" But that would simply miss the point of why I like being in the hills in the first place. </p><p>Anyhow, the climbers in us could not resist scrambling up this gorgeous low angle boulder we found along the way. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-PUxyzWahZRDpxnMLAHxUhTpAm9kPxMtKiJwQ8OqZMBoeoGAT2P5l5HwWi8-9iPed9Jt7Daaf23aVXrZT4VpWosKWI-tsHn4Kcjg1y6oQmV19yNyvTmazFIczrgPJV4TJ0KR6Yeq_ZltHVCOXWfJtcoWXFCbZp4lhcxs8XubAWVLYOy0QCrhXorGAjg/s4032/IMG_5312.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-PUxyzWahZRDpxnMLAHxUhTpAm9kPxMtKiJwQ8OqZMBoeoGAT2P5l5HwWi8-9iPed9Jt7Daaf23aVXrZT4VpWosKWI-tsHn4Kcjg1y6oQmV19yNyvTmazFIczrgPJV4TJ0KR6Yeq_ZltHVCOXWfJtcoWXFCbZp4lhcxs8XubAWVLYOy0QCrhXorGAjg/w640-h480/IMG_5312.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnGMKGMe-LJPcKTJSLunlyLcmvn6lqZxIYHhIz9Fg9hR0pjJS58EJVu8jHqevNe--sY8cG91LqFkpylsXQLro2B7g_Gq0gq-A_eAVTXZvCSkiwsAs_stbo4YSKEll9jLGHciyHqcESIDwT34IlrkVlW29zUjYl1BFQtpj2OfsLmaQ7DyxAgZPJ8rUW5w/s4032/IMG_5311.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnGMKGMe-LJPcKTJSLunlyLcmvn6lqZxIYHhIz9Fg9hR0pjJS58EJVu8jHqevNe--sY8cG91LqFkpylsXQLro2B7g_Gq0gq-A_eAVTXZvCSkiwsAs_stbo4YSKEll9jLGHciyHqcESIDwT34IlrkVlW29zUjYl1BFQtpj2OfsLmaQ7DyxAgZPJ8rUW5w/w640-h480/IMG_5311.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>After riding through much loose sand, Red's Canyon turned into Sinbad Country and the road improved. We even started to see some passenger cars. Goddamn, I love Sinbad Country.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidDnVwu4hHcZjJrXNke_W79rvn-MOfkTgyAEL27adSfzG4iDa_dI4MSPaUBre7RsLwys1T6lHDgq8j45FdpG1_7nhbSieAZpaBCWiPBHwXaYybJOV03NYDDKVIi4Fc9FIdROx48qdRpoKfXIsdO4Fjo56FJc-CPF9NYBIRH5SgLLesBzvXQf36557E2g/s4032/IMG_5314.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidDnVwu4hHcZjJrXNke_W79rvn-MOfkTgyAEL27adSfzG4iDa_dI4MSPaUBre7RsLwys1T6lHDgq8j45FdpG1_7nhbSieAZpaBCWiPBHwXaYybJOV03NYDDKVIi4Fc9FIdROx48qdRpoKfXIsdO4Fjo56FJc-CPF9NYBIRH5SgLLesBzvXQf36557E2g/w640-h480/IMG_5314.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJc05q3yqbwesmDMG4cGmn6wj3CtQPl8Kte8pg6p9qByG1Kq28BTOld79xddnxQIvLmlDkffzNamKJBN6d9OOC5Hk3EJQjfupL0IAN-5FQYBZAoo3lEX6DU1GvJDvJoIVGzxHUuGRAJWQNaM07nOu6_uuT0pL6mkkYrdrWuPda3RTq4DY8CZeWh9bC-A/s4032/IMG_5317.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJc05q3yqbwesmDMG4cGmn6wj3CtQPl8Kte8pg6p9qByG1Kq28BTOld79xddnxQIvLmlDkffzNamKJBN6d9OOC5Hk3EJQjfupL0IAN-5FQYBZAoo3lEX6DU1GvJDvJoIVGzxHUuGRAJWQNaM07nOu6_uuT0pL6mkkYrdrWuPda3RTq4DY8CZeWh9bC-A/w640-h480/IMG_5317.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>We made it to Vitor's car ahead of schedule and drank some cold beers from the cooler. It was hot and we were rationing sunscreen. We both attempted to nap for a little while. When we awoke, it was only 1:30 and we knew we had a lot of hours to go before riding in the dead sun seemed enjoyable again. But with only 10-15 miles left (most of which were downhill), we made the choice to complete the loop in the heat of the day.</p><p>Back on some improved roads for a bit after Tan Seep and then it got real cobbly/loose. I felt bad for Vitor on his fully rigid frame but knew he would survive. He remained in good spirits and continued to be the great partner that he'd been the entire time.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/NvVPfe0-oUo" width="320" youtube-src-id="NvVPfe0-oUo"></iframe></div><br /><p>Temple Mountain came into sights and we decided to return on the old mining roads to its west. Big paintbrushed lenticular clouds hung overhead. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-7avMUS7EK3q-KIOd6HF2FkGdICGNWO7U3p35qj6lfDKhQRGVR-RZao4oPJcbp7dJa9X0SZhCTyFIhjDaCQ7oRu5aRLo1zwDzlxcbOIkV6Wq0xjpxkzxaihjHNRwt2PZD1Hj6-UH7aa8wyvsP5fnf64PPmD2ybQ0dk38v-rg-iiwYIh7pqKEPDaqxMw/s4032/IMG_5330.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-7avMUS7EK3q-KIOd6HF2FkGdICGNWO7U3p35qj6lfDKhQRGVR-RZao4oPJcbp7dJa9X0SZhCTyFIhjDaCQ7oRu5aRLo1zwDzlxcbOIkV6Wq0xjpxkzxaihjHNRwt2PZD1Hj6-UH7aa8wyvsP5fnf64PPmD2ybQ0dk38v-rg-iiwYIh7pqKEPDaqxMw/w640-h480/IMG_5330.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>The old mining roads were a blast (never thought I'd catch air while backpacking), and we made it back to the trailhead within an hour and a half from leaving Tan Seep. </p><p>Rough stats:</p><p>- 70 miles</p><p>- 8,500 ft of climbing</p><p>- Completed over the course of 30 hours</p><p>- 3 liters of water carried per day</p><p><br /></p><p>Bikepacking is mega satisfying, particularly because we covered around 70 miles of wild country in a matter of a day and a half. While we stayed mostly outside of the Swell's rugged canyons, the bike was a great way to get a macro-level view of this zone. </p><p></p>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-88741422050051891652022-05-03T09:06:00.004-07:002022-05-03T09:07:55.953-07:00Spring 2022 Wrap-up<div>It feels like so much and so little has happened since I posted last in October. For one, I was wrong about my feeling that the winter would be really good. It was just okay. The excitement for splitboarding was quite low (the lowest it's been maybe ever) and so I spent much time in the climbing gym regaining lost fitness. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've also been skateboarding a lot, mostly with Sam and Taylor, and it's been fulfilling reconnecting with that part of me. Skateboarding, like surfing, is maybe one of the more 'soulful' activities I do, aside from maybe strumming around on my guitar. It's been a part of me since I was 10 and I don't think it'll ever leave. But fuck, it hurts sometimes. I've hurt myself skateboarding a lot, but luckily it's mostly bruises and twists and the pain never lasts more than a few days. </div><div><br /></div>I've gotten way behind on posting on here, and though I didn't do anything too epic this past spring there were some good times in the hills that I'd like to memorialize. <div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><u><b>Hallway Couloir</b>, 1/15/22</u></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Riley and Bryan came into town. They were kinda worked from some previous adventure snowboarding in the Bears and I felt woefully out of shape, so we had a semi-ambitious plan of hitting Main Days, climbing back up the ridge, and then exiting via Hallway. We parked in Cardiff and approached from Days because it was the weekend and you can no longer park in upper LCC without a permit during that time.</div><div><br /></div><div>The approach tired us out more than we expected, so we waffled between hitting either Main Days or Hallway. We ultimately chose Hallway because we knew the snow would not be good, and at least the couloir provided an interesting position. </div><div><br /></div><div>After sidescraping down into the chute proper (it does NOT go from the notch on the saddle; at least not with the amount of snow that day), we made chunky/difficult/crusty turns all the way down into the Tube, which had some playful windbuffed/dry condensed powder. <br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQldNbMhohfAaSPY28dX0IYer945zbKGze_9Ta68yhOUj4qltc48VN2_VJV-l0I_XSA_ZNq-4ZBq_rctIO6bDNIYlsSLZJSdnebrIBE4j34FufoD4Iq0J0j-vzgn9Bp57Rf53jJM1IvzqaAKLvEP_hRDujh5uZxdZtyz8ax49F_2nT86N17g2Fs0ho7w/s4000/IMG_4449.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQldNbMhohfAaSPY28dX0IYer945zbKGze_9Ta68yhOUj4qltc48VN2_VJV-l0I_XSA_ZNq-4ZBq_rctIO6bDNIYlsSLZJSdnebrIBE4j34FufoD4Iq0J0j-vzgn9Bp57Rf53jJM1IvzqaAKLvEP_hRDujh5uZxdZtyz8ax49F_2nT86N17g2Fs0ho7w/w640-h480/IMG_4449.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />Doesn't go from here!<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="1023" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrRf0Xq1nq6bK64Ahdgj6w51oZ4dKPCZPE_6nKzmLmVbo5-YYwtVkXqjmXiZScuaXYUyBgywkc5Q1s_0SzT9nDB9SlwD32oa9J9oOf2tWmJmV2bO_9lUCXVfpyuSqppInIv0IWF41H_yw4XGjJT9o1hSkjbxgTv4k99P_co5ouWQ-psOppDHx6WMgVwQ/w640-h360/IMG_4381.PNG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Bryan perfecting the art of using your edge on a snowboard<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKlF43V7wMkU9Jcv9p91Mrr-HWCMhU6uApPlFmx_EHLp6HIHlCqv0HeE_dq1Dwd3sa-A1pewIGXATctJ2vGS59OjGIGViEIxMiwvQkQpTLn2o5qmIPhN2YZSAJt5FZGKdsJJdx08K0D-dz8-uI72wPkR-kSDq0JvV6g30t7fS3LcM5e8dj91dQiIftaw/s4032/IMG_5127.JPG"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKlF43V7wMkU9Jcv9p91Mrr-HWCMhU6uApPlFmx_EHLp6HIHlCqv0HeE_dq1Dwd3sa-A1pewIGXATctJ2vGS59OjGIGViEIxMiwvQkQpTLn2o5qmIPhN2YZSAJt5FZGKdsJJdx08K0D-dz8-uI72wPkR-kSDq0JvV6g30t7fS3LcM5e8dj91dQiIftaw/w480-h640/IMG_5127.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;">Me (photo: RR)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><u><b>Bozeman Trip</b>, 1/27–1/30</u></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>It always feels so nice to get out of the dusty, barren landscape that is the Great Basin and enter a world of dense Douglas fir, cold streams, and grizzly bears. The drive from SLC->Island Park drags and drags, but I always feel revitalized after climbing out of Ashton and onto the Yellowstone Caldera. </div><div><br /></div><div>In fact I was feeling so good on the drive up (and the weather was so perfect) that I decided to go for a quick lap on Telemark Meadows, which is in the YSNP boundaries. It was a beautiful evening--I had the meadows all to myself. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW8XSpKMnKY1MHBaC-FNOGEOhRyUYjvYrdQxDiNJrXv-o07KmDZBBLkyRHKoraJi_CJDHBOoyFZCyPz4LbqG4j_OwYgKu5Ji7pxhzIrq96wK3g4KUhqZvuA_ItMframeV-CT8Bup5ueUwPIXEoepaHSu3WyRlo9jnzqAHpCwLwHu4sys3usUs3N97hig/s3337/IMG_4452.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1877" data-original-width="3337" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW8XSpKMnKY1MHBaC-FNOGEOhRyUYjvYrdQxDiNJrXv-o07KmDZBBLkyRHKoraJi_CJDHBOoyFZCyPz4LbqG4j_OwYgKu5Ji7pxhzIrq96wK3g4KUhqZvuA_ItMframeV-CT8Bup5ueUwPIXEoepaHSu3WyRlo9jnzqAHpCwLwHu4sys3usUs3N97hig/w640-h360/IMG_4452.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>The snow was definitely just okay. It hadn't snowed in over a few weeks, but the powder on top of what I assume was November's icy/chunky layer was dry.</div><div><br /></div><div>The next day Jerad, Todd, and I decided to hit Big Ellis. My first experience there a couple of years ago was fun but unremarkable. I actually think it was the first ever out of bounds slidepath I ever rode my snowboard down. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyhow, the snow was marginal but catching up with Jerad and Todd was fun. I'm glad I can go back to Bozeman and pick up right where I left off with old friends. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqU-FMvan5JNip86645Z4Eqv1un2o2DHF-jdQSH4HMq0UzLJR2M3H15Jf0QScvz08-jo5l9bfR7SlMZjyFr58Q0OPhvnZItSkEUGIuB1avnhoLRy0hPqHQ95MVgxjJBAJbziGN-bLYpan2R3Un5KK-DJQJlQSkgvdSqHuwr3hFaFfl7j9hkoKaURZudA/s2181/IMG_4453.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1745" data-original-width="2181" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqU-FMvan5JNip86645Z4Eqv1un2o2DHF-jdQSH4HMq0UzLJR2M3H15Jf0QScvz08-jo5l9bfR7SlMZjyFr58Q0OPhvnZItSkEUGIuB1avnhoLRy0hPqHQ95MVgxjJBAJbziGN-bLYpan2R3Un5KK-DJQJlQSkgvdSqHuwr3hFaFfl7j9hkoKaURZudA/w640-h512/IMG_4453.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Todd gettin' it on the rad and imposing slopes of Big Ellis</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgDl8bNHSrR-fwaBF5L1h54Np2QDcvvBdFPqZr7200XLaczDiHUzadsXyep25V8pLZ8VrNDQJsvJObIAfORWRB9_go58WT2IIiY_MbW05qwbc9uA6ER0j-mCFmjE895bnXuh0CeGnQxYHQY97qFGdhAWLAR7Pt9eTPr_7EpqDvioWsqgCVJ8X2MLOFQ/s4032/IMG_4446.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgDl8bNHSrR-fwaBF5L1h54Np2QDcvvBdFPqZr7200XLaczDiHUzadsXyep25V8pLZ8VrNDQJsvJObIAfORWRB9_go58WT2IIiY_MbW05qwbc9uA6ER0j-mCFmjE895bnXuh0CeGnQxYHQY97qFGdhAWLAR7Pt9eTPr_7EpqDvioWsqgCVJ8X2MLOFQ/w640-h480/IMG_4446.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I definitely do not miss needing to walk super far for 500'-1000' of riding, but dang being outside in cold Montana sure is nice </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9G3vJFspcszcN4Q3n69HucpDJeRDv_5Fits2pfJXzNYDMexDq4Xl0IDg_L1Y6Q96JhpJX_wzvwrvAy81y_CepnEfNnImir4ES1Fx9aGnLqGfzAeHdrSthvHnMdzjcgIum5yUye-HtiB5tdtnN0exXhb1vLdc9G-1hO50e8g50v7oCc4bRagrFjRWyBQ/s4032/IMG_4455.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9G3vJFspcszcN4Q3n69HucpDJeRDv_5Fits2pfJXzNYDMexDq4Xl0IDg_L1Y6Q96JhpJX_wzvwrvAy81y_CepnEfNnImir4ES1Fx9aGnLqGfzAeHdrSthvHnMdzjcgIum5yUye-HtiB5tdtnN0exXhb1vLdc9G-1hO50e8g50v7oCc4bRagrFjRWyBQ/w640-h480/IMG_4455.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sunset over Peet's Hill. I spent a lot of time on this hill when I lived in Bozeman—both for work and for fun. That's another thing Bozeman has going for it over SLC: a singletrack trail network, right in town.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The next day Aden and I met up with Libby and Westy (who are now husband and wife!) to go climbing at Whiskey Gulch. I was impressed with the stone. It's seriously so good! I really miss igneous bouldering such as this, which reminded me a lot of the gneiss in Connecticut. But I won't speak too loudly—I don't want the LCC boulders to sense my fear. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9aQBcJrYzSpaHhX2icRr9RS2Axxrz8EeH5MiyYvcj5YZFql_YvQtbbPzb56aiwTBo-Wx5BE5s1sOSkISMgZ-NDGhrZtVbJgHPAXrQ0Z8lSmOLok98BJ3sTXol_8BP8yQY66brsONv6mUqLLsVCidScmHHoq5shMwyIEHZ1gkSDYEc3QEwa-fa6fxFLw/s3237/IMG_4458.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2590" data-original-width="3237" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9aQBcJrYzSpaHhX2icRr9RS2Axxrz8EeH5MiyYvcj5YZFql_YvQtbbPzb56aiwTBo-Wx5BE5s1sOSkISMgZ-NDGhrZtVbJgHPAXrQ0Z8lSmOLok98BJ3sTXol_8BP8yQY66brsONv6mUqLLsVCidScmHHoq5shMwyIEHZ1gkSDYEc3QEwa-fa6fxFLw/w640-h512/IMG_4458.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Libby pulling down on something hard in Whiskey</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I flashed a V4 that day and hopped on my first V7 since the injury I incurred in Joe's back in October. It felt great. I think it ignited the flame for hard climbing once again, and I've been bouldering more now than I ever have since leaving CT in 2018. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I finished off the short trip with a couple of laps up Flanders with Jerad and Peter. The last time Peter and I got together, we were deep in the Missouri Headwaters Relay, which was mostly a miserable experience bookended by a very fun picnic. It was great to hang with Peter and to get up in Hyalite. We eyed the entire 'Hyalite-Blackmore' traverse, and I'd love to come back one day with some fitness and get that done.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM4ZuMW29VNN_PvjgyA2LW8LFuzD59jZyWbNOLJfVEfMLlQqo7WcecpCf_4m_aMR6N1hfrGCne8VzbU404AtGv23rzD6RgSU2hSQrbnR4xBKiES9Du5qV7PR9zn4wZiJ6eJrpjzpRX9LFppmRb2RNjXIMqnvQ9iqLKockeRZQ7V0-u29SOnDB5aWQhPg/s4032/IMG_4054.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM4ZuMW29VNN_PvjgyA2LW8LFuzD59jZyWbNOLJfVEfMLlQqo7WcecpCf_4m_aMR6N1hfrGCne8VzbU404AtGv23rzD6RgSU2hSQrbnR4xBKiES9Du5qV7PR9zn4wZiJ6eJrpjzpRX9LFppmRb2RNjXIMqnvQ9iqLKockeRZQ7V0-u29SOnDB5aWQhPg/w640-h480/IMG_4054.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFD5ncOv4B_fJ60mayDbk1gTmpXQRhzKm5UgMC2rGf0Hp2En5G37297MJmUu5LGPGFrkV1xF2zCQ4iVUxZz4tr6z3xaQTOYs4Kz9jScAD0MnwZ_Jt4tfXZZMeGl5oPCvU8s0irCEMKMagmqft1DCB51JVhvRV2lS2CpyuOED1amPSLSsFQguMYCzWoOQ/s4032/IMG_4475.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFD5ncOv4B_fJ60mayDbk1gTmpXQRhzKm5UgMC2rGf0Hp2En5G37297MJmUu5LGPGFrkV1xF2zCQ4iVUxZz4tr6z3xaQTOYs4Kz9jScAD0MnwZ_Jt4tfXZZMeGl5oPCvU8s0irCEMKMagmqft1DCB51JVhvRV2lS2CpyuOED1amPSLSsFQguMYCzWoOQ/w640-h480/IMG_4475.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIoHRLxOmtFTSuZVlCere2287Nczd0Q1xc9-Ax1RjRQSLTMdwYvpk-woe_E6cyCUhopyI1qkhevXWi8830o8C27Cy9qJtSP56iXMvVhrlNiIAEdiERHp5Mxqt3XuAOrH2dfDgHySxRlFQtKsreHxb6YgEPaEUhUcYNkToKEkkFcVqRiiSumsRAu3zL0Q/s3439/IMG_4486.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2579" data-original-width="3439" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIoHRLxOmtFTSuZVlCere2287Nczd0Q1xc9-Ax1RjRQSLTMdwYvpk-woe_E6cyCUhopyI1qkhevXWi8830o8C27Cy9qJtSP56iXMvVhrlNiIAEdiERHp5Mxqt3XuAOrH2dfDgHySxRlFQtKsreHxb6YgEPaEUhUcYNkToKEkkFcVqRiiSumsRAu3zL0Q/w640-h480/IMG_4486.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>The exit was about as fun as any Hyalite exit, but I've vastly refined my splitskiing skills over the years and it went just about as smoothly as it could have. </div><div><br /></div><div>Until next time Bozeman. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><u><b>Blind Hollow Yurt Trip</b>, 2/6–2/9</u></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>It was time to return to the Blind Hollow Yurt. I knew it would be hard to be our 2020 trip, where we had maybe some of the best powder I've ever had the pleasure of riding. In fact, it hadn't snowed in the Bears in weeks and we had no idea what kind of snow we would be dealing with, but we did know that it wouldn't be very good. Anyway, we had a solid crew and we were all ready to hunker down with eachother in very confined quarters for a few days.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGUwYxDJe6Sjo3IQtte0UsJEQ1I6LiIrFXgZGRjzn2-vJ8CiWtII0cqBKTPGGQAiiU87lOkPJbkCZaz5hh8O7u4lMIa70gRsBOv5IgW3jprUudc-LImtBScQ-X_iM2yShCya13tr0zVPBQrGSwJ19ULyabdKr5GWA439vhG3khmxe7ZeoH0g8Irrz7fg/s4000/IMG_4542.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGUwYxDJe6Sjo3IQtte0UsJEQ1I6LiIrFXgZGRjzn2-vJ8CiWtII0cqBKTPGGQAiiU87lOkPJbkCZaz5hh8O7u4lMIa70gRsBOv5IgW3jprUudc-LImtBScQ-X_iM2yShCya13tr0zVPBQrGSwJ19ULyabdKr5GWA439vhG3khmxe7ZeoH0g8Irrz7fg/w640-h480/IMG_4542.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSGqmEgyzm43W114jU_BIYbLyeX2BDrOEc-luV2tmpbq8-vrlyB3SlgSX2IGqVs8plbASAjy5RJSF0kHfNhFmX-6SidbaLb2MiGCetHbjxqxcUL0UpSmagLlX7dMUWT0kescmeTvm5KWKWattj7RuqvcYZBXhYsJtYuvwypUMfNao2w8DTYNsRjdvmZw/s4000/IMG_4544.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSGqmEgyzm43W114jU_BIYbLyeX2BDrOEc-luV2tmpbq8-vrlyB3SlgSX2IGqVs8plbASAjy5RJSF0kHfNhFmX-6SidbaLb2MiGCetHbjxqxcUL0UpSmagLlX7dMUWT0kescmeTvm5KWKWattj7RuqvcYZBXhYsJtYuvwypUMfNao2w8DTYNsRjdvmZw/w640-h480/IMG_4544.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Atleast the sun shone for almost the entirety of the trip</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0OXp-KFczK_kzQ-UccscFX_wVrrrvVYfx1e1AcOErABgztfQSKaZwTquenrHfjQSQvon_mcpfvDGp8BBxpIdO2yUHDW1ehC8HEDXEF6zilsBTxCx9gxPSVhvgu2EEpG_A6J80mRzVDfv2N6pOBO_nceXiGG--WCWCgmnjEhf_66rYua9repPWEj7lJA/s4000/IMG_4545.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0OXp-KFczK_kzQ-UccscFX_wVrrrvVYfx1e1AcOErABgztfQSKaZwTquenrHfjQSQvon_mcpfvDGp8BBxpIdO2yUHDW1ehC8HEDXEF6zilsBTxCx9gxPSVhvgu2EEpG_A6J80mRzVDfv2N6pOBO_nceXiGG--WCWCgmnjEhf_66rYua9repPWEj7lJA/w640-h480/IMG_4545.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhws_WDW7be9Mh6_gTHzKCWY6YigeeUIhNT7udSt01hCNcVjNbUUB0SZZkgDcbCTXRizyUZxFDfPg4Nzv8Cw2FcWF6BeLHhrFYCdeOGDP2eOH-AJLyBCtBzHRM0kvGJszym-xE37rBh37i_HqJ9LiWGFN7rYJZs_eJTjMdWQGlgw-hipzvQL_XCrgBM-Q/s3111/IMG_4547.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3111" data-original-width="2333" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhws_WDW7be9Mh6_gTHzKCWY6YigeeUIhNT7udSt01hCNcVjNbUUB0SZZkgDcbCTXRizyUZxFDfPg4Nzv8Cw2FcWF6BeLHhrFYCdeOGDP2eOH-AJLyBCtBzHRM0kvGJszym-xE37rBh37i_HqJ9LiWGFN7rYJZs_eJTjMdWQGlgw-hipzvQL_XCrgBM-Q/w480-h640/IMG_4547.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy8leHcb_JfXx-4SHL-zt1MTJhUjh6V5L3E9VHloL0hwwlIfSXiBQRpP6dWJUpAoVaxoyJztos4OFXFXQiMUE1GPO_4mgGiu18DT3LeLp3WDu6EzLapR_eijgCcXZIr_wqgWWt7ysCcc9NctvE4oJgf9FF1liP4TkjKoUD279TCV-afI68pIpXExZKAg/s4000/IMG_4550.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy8leHcb_JfXx-4SHL-zt1MTJhUjh6V5L3E9VHloL0hwwlIfSXiBQRpP6dWJUpAoVaxoyJztos4OFXFXQiMUE1GPO_4mgGiu18DT3LeLp3WDu6EzLapR_eijgCcXZIr_wqgWWt7ysCcc9NctvE4oJgf9FF1liP4TkjKoUD279TCV-afI68pIpXExZKAg/w640-h480/IMG_4550.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlF0-Ht7AhXQoDFt8lliFakzmHPlJLhWiw_o0cyH4PT37QPT2YSSmuzKcY3ibbABYjObrlkZdd6s-bjOqtF7qx82v788CcsM3kxresGRVCKlXLoGwmRn_ZVyvEaI0BbnjYRSjOYHXa8ulmYQOKxtF8v0V0EGr-plWJGjiouaMufY0WT_jpgNrQLzVfw/s4000/IMG_4551.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlF0-Ht7AhXQoDFt8lliFakzmHPlJLhWiw_o0cyH4PT37QPT2YSSmuzKcY3ibbABYjObrlkZdd6s-bjOqtF7qx82v788CcsM3kxresGRVCKlXLoGwmRn_ZVyvEaI0BbnjYRSjOYHXa8ulmYQOKxtF8v0V0EGr-plWJGjiouaMufY0WT_jpgNrQLzVfw/w640-h480/IMG_4551.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>The snow and riding was quite unremarkable, but we got on top of the 'Sisters' each day and had fun catching up with each other and skiing with the hand we were dealt. </div><div><br /></div><div>Like most yurt trips I've been on, my favorite memories were goofing off at the Yurt. We packed the yurt to max capacity, and the spare cots provided to us were mostly broken. It took us a solid 45 drunken minutes to set one of them up. The unfortunate part was that they took up so much floorspace that we had to break them down every morning. Setting them back up was a drunken chore that haunted us for most of the trip.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUC-iVAa4oq5HBG4NyVxa6IeeoZr6eZYV8zbJpE91o5_lxpBYytePvJZ2eSkcetfPl9tLVaOhS8ixH9y6dOth2aU81-Td-ljgBgLBnMSNbwIG_4RbG1a0Al-4fr1D5XWB0BG4zhwc5LOq5bUzMX5y8bSrhWKmv49cOgkYnAKSbZsacpxAyVuSkqlWmg/s4032/IMG_4525.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUC-iVAa4oq5HBG4NyVxa6IeeoZr6eZYV8zbJpE91o5_lxpBYytePvJZ2eSkcetfPl9tLVaOhS8ixH9y6dOth2aU81-Td-ljgBgLBnMSNbwIG_4RbG1a0Al-4fr1D5XWB0BG4zhwc5LOq5bUzMX5y8bSrhWKmv49cOgkYnAKSbZsacpxAyVuSkqlWmg/w480-h640/IMG_4525.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXQjoDDxOpwE2oiOe2qUiesVrNqKTXAXGWlvKYlPUTLPHbaM56bOkWhadQYwon-kFxOH8KPrBCwxCQUGIup1eSspg_4JWJuIj_EgDP9J5k1UUZMTC7iXjPbJZQa6x1j7qqBPPPSzvZbbeMzGds6oS5GiVIPHXI-M-f53yFeazh36mYXWXRiJ0efg3JoQ/s4000/IMG_4556.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXQjoDDxOpwE2oiOe2qUiesVrNqKTXAXGWlvKYlPUTLPHbaM56bOkWhadQYwon-kFxOH8KPrBCwxCQUGIup1eSspg_4JWJuIj_EgDP9J5k1UUZMTC7iXjPbJZQa6x1j7qqBPPPSzvZbbeMzGds6oS5GiVIPHXI-M-f53yFeazh36mYXWXRiJ0efg3JoQ/w640-h480/IMG_4556.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>One morning Connor, Grace, Emma and I decided to break off and go check out some steeper north-facing stuff. Seeing small crowns on the exact same aspect one drainage over scared us away from our original plan, so we chose something more manageable and east facing. It was really fun. We called it the J-Tube. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjATd1_j17J8-FePAaLlgSnTvzbUQGCG3krSFe2lxQzevnLhCV-eiLCC_7FUrCJ1l_6l-wKqWvHjJ6rN0aacaMmHDkULrn9e8ZbYHBK_-IQi-jNvVMBJot89qKa2Y0P4CGgJnND8VJ04JCE1bVCZH21XC2JwQhfzwjK72-WBz9Ii6f3OOs0H8k7DF1ttA/s4000/IMG_4559.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2250" data-original-width="4000" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjATd1_j17J8-FePAaLlgSnTvzbUQGCG3krSFe2lxQzevnLhCV-eiLCC_7FUrCJ1l_6l-wKqWvHjJ6rN0aacaMmHDkULrn9e8ZbYHBK_-IQi-jNvVMBJot89qKa2Y0P4CGgJnND8VJ04JCE1bVCZH21XC2JwQhfzwjK72-WBz9Ii6f3OOs0H8k7DF1ttA/w640-h360/IMG_4559.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivnX6CqXH3LY4xCAccVOtTY894JP_oxHewe2JcBToqZaqmd0CY5S6YyC1YZpVLn9I5yl9JtfGE8RhpxAQlz_7jdwAgSgXeVHAv0OUdl35zJ6K0gIeuQ-pM0_7yRUKvW6JdkvRV-coI10MV9b-oLh8ecfTGWcNpohNUTUYDy_qDU7qf9fP1MBFlfFJCYw/s2965/IMG_4565.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2258" data-original-width="2965" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivnX6CqXH3LY4xCAccVOtTY894JP_oxHewe2JcBToqZaqmd0CY5S6YyC1YZpVLn9I5yl9JtfGE8RhpxAQlz_7jdwAgSgXeVHAv0OUdl35zJ6K0gIeuQ-pM0_7yRUKvW6JdkvRV-coI10MV9b-oLh8ecfTGWcNpohNUTUYDy_qDU7qf9fP1MBFlfFJCYw/w640-h488/IMG_4565.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Connor on the upper crux of the J-Tube</div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjks6juuYyipHtfjxjap8hua2RJJw53MOFXSxFYlgIWQBHaxIr17j_WSShcFzv3MaDd99BKwe90FiSyGqmMLpxoqM8fGKldrc-d1t_4sWKQOmAseWwGKW5xEXP3w4Ld3Cs-aH6HV1XFnvbQtMfto_Mi8A1avfibNF5kQwKU92tumPfnLrPyHDXeHNtqg/s4000/IMG_4571.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjks6juuYyipHtfjxjap8hua2RJJw53MOFXSxFYlgIWQBHaxIr17j_WSShcFzv3MaDd99BKwe90FiSyGqmMLpxoqM8fGKldrc-d1t_4sWKQOmAseWwGKW5xEXP3w4Ld3Cs-aH6HV1XFnvbQtMfto_Mi8A1avfibNF5kQwKU92tumPfnLrPyHDXeHNtqg/w640-h480/IMG_4571.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEbPP7m30Pq4UTKDevP8BNpjvale-gAGQgfo6xvXjrQeOuWywmnkP6m4XZbmODZaoVOXlILzwifRFF2XcVp9gvrjmSwUMWbWwEi1AkxcOK2_c-GCMNGBCupbxgJu_bqpkUNFHDTBXsxkWjexVHAYcrm7IWNm6HinJquphugOVPGJ-zc4mD_kHsaa3tUg/s4032/IMG_4526.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEbPP7m30Pq4UTKDevP8BNpjvale-gAGQgfo6xvXjrQeOuWywmnkP6m4XZbmODZaoVOXlILzwifRFF2XcVp9gvrjmSwUMWbWwEi1AkxcOK2_c-GCMNGBCupbxgJu_bqpkUNFHDTBXsxkWjexVHAYcrm7IWNm6HinJquphugOVPGJ-zc4mD_kHsaa3tUg/w640-h480/IMG_4526.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>When all was said and done we had a fair bit of skiing and a lot of working our way through our booze cache. Luckily every ounce of alcohol and most of the food had been accounted for, and we zipped out on the final day and said our goodbyes. I probably won't see Aden and Biz for another half a year or so (they're hiking the PCT), so the times spent with Bozeman pals are always to be cherished.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><u><b>Tri Chute, Birthday Chute, </b>2/19/22</u></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>I think Nick has had a hell of a time coaxing me out of my hole and getting me onto snow this season. Luckily I had been wanting to ride both Tri Chute and Birthday Chute in one single tour for a while now, and when Nick agreed to the plan I got excited for splitboarding again. </div><div><br /></div><div>We made pretty good time into White Pine proper and reached the top of Red Stack in about 3 hours. The skinning wasn't too bad and I didn't even feel like I needed ski crampons (but of course they would've been nice). </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhalFbLX7NsqqMzD7kg1bcE_CLJ166f64ccytEUMtmyi1txiQY8-xYLi_htzvPcA_68JzPlGM1AvNi7YbEivBBY4m9rwkt3oSqJEZhRm4ZmyifFwuclCgVE7TZSmPa5WOBYjB2qLVpUfwCeTM4UwRd4rFjIWSUCtSh112OLNQK3VTUAmM6j5qmkDfW--Q/s4032/IMG_4674.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhalFbLX7NsqqMzD7kg1bcE_CLJ166f64ccytEUMtmyi1txiQY8-xYLi_htzvPcA_68JzPlGM1AvNi7YbEivBBY4m9rwkt3oSqJEZhRm4ZmyifFwuclCgVE7TZSmPa5WOBYjB2qLVpUfwCeTM4UwRd4rFjIWSUCtSh112OLNQK3VTUAmM6j5qmkDfW--Q/w640-h480/IMG_4674.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>We hit Tri Chute in about the best conditions we could've asked for that day. It's a fairly cool run, but it seems like it's difficult to get it in good condition from the top because it's seemingly hammered by wind on a constant basis. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7dJu0NaRQlLrLo4nEvUpOaDWTVzwEmjoDSwhZOOXRHthkQDl6V025sQG0GZNB5NoNx8yBLxPBTSnyjD496Ij7ZGCo2LL22Ea8fDwaHcp8sj9zF8hL1_rQqr697hJK46m9UccfGkSBigivAgzgl_ryOH2AeX23jo79K-9Go49TCB10JtRwPVkHGf3_A/s4032/IMG_4679.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7dJu0NaRQlLrLo4nEvUpOaDWTVzwEmjoDSwhZOOXRHthkQDl6V025sQG0GZNB5NoNx8yBLxPBTSnyjD496Ij7ZGCo2LL22Ea8fDwaHcp8sj9zF8hL1_rQqr697hJK46m9UccfGkSBigivAgzgl_ryOH2AeX23jo79K-9Go49TCB10JtRwPVkHGf3_A/w480-h640/IMG_4679.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>After Tri Chute we made the long climb back up to the top of Red Stack about 5 hours into the day. I felt like I was moving really well that day despite touring very little this season. We chose the Birthday Chute that I believe was the furthest looker's left. It was fun, hardpacked dry snow. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRffWPK97GD5V6wElzSKr_UuHOv3ii409Cu6makNFy62Q5vKMr3EFUBuuXw59nTRyiQK84vPkieIvc6mJ9Ze7JlzMDAqvPI2z4MxBG5eznrelCNDkqFQ5NpmeG07Lh0KLziPFQex6zbnNkgwYF1Wsuqo3kS2JMAEMmas6QTDq7vBQqR4mK7MKXX2XMmg/s4032/IMG_4681.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRffWPK97GD5V6wElzSKr_UuHOv3ii409Cu6makNFy62Q5vKMr3EFUBuuXw59nTRyiQK84vPkieIvc6mJ9Ze7JlzMDAqvPI2z4MxBG5eznrelCNDkqFQ5NpmeG07Lh0KLziPFQex6zbnNkgwYF1Wsuqo3kS2JMAEMmas6QTDq7vBQqR4mK7MKXX2XMmg/w640-h480/IMG_4681.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>We decided to exit out of Scottie's bowl, which I think was the right call. The north-facing shot easily had the best snow out of any of the runs we descended that day. Plus we avoided the low angle forest road exit. For White Pine tours, I'll probably exit out of Scottie's every time if conditions allow. </div><div><br /></div><div>I felt like this linkup was a very logical way to check out most of the good stuff off of Red Stack, with the Scottie's exit a nice bonus). About 6,500' total.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><u><b>Ankle Roll, </b>2/21/2022</u></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>I can't sit still so on a crummy winter day I decided to go check out some spots in downtown SLC. I wasn't super warmed up but felt like my BS noseslides were on lock so I tried one on the Gallivan brick ledge. The first one I landed went well but I wanted to slide longer and pop out a bit more...</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibKil6VsQmI8FVFYoj5lwfBjMkGj9EBM6DcsfzEWQPo7p8wB2I9yjz2r1_uNpYy9dJG2PVB6r2sIYtXAbS0rleIgBr6N34ZivqPz4PzaQ1JDQ_5fQOZ8AKUrCTIHWUcy6F1TKgEaRbUxQ3caFLlvmVO6eW5TqE--baZlMUkG8kr2doK6tdMDlZ97KTbg/s974/IMG_4694.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="974" data-original-width="577" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibKil6VsQmI8FVFYoj5lwfBjMkGj9EBM6DcsfzEWQPo7p8wB2I9yjz2r1_uNpYy9dJG2PVB6r2sIYtXAbS0rleIgBr6N34ZivqPz4PzaQ1JDQ_5fQOZ8AKUrCTIHWUcy6F1TKgEaRbUxQ3caFLlvmVO6eW5TqE--baZlMUkG8kr2doK6tdMDlZ97KTbg/w380-h640/IMG_4694.PNG" width="380" /></a></div><div><br /></div>And then I rolled my ankle pretty hard; probably the hardest I have in a while. Urghhhh. I made a very slow limp back to my car, which was about 3/4 mile from Gallivan. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyddRilkUg5OK2vLl2rOdPpfzbPMFPJziNDyw-34JxUR71NvFwx5KRGDFs9GhV58EPV9EY1yyrt127nW07FiJ-uyag0ESFbTvo_zTO83mASnPUYKLB3zv10ndx-A5IDAVmCfkSgRfUUF7V5X2TWlP5XS8WDo0NTBqBQDbU3mSPAKrsRe_duqprkXAh6g/s1462/IMG_4695.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1462" data-original-width="828" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyddRilkUg5OK2vLl2rOdPpfzbPMFPJziNDyw-34JxUR71NvFwx5KRGDFs9GhV58EPV9EY1yyrt127nW07FiJ-uyag0ESFbTvo_zTO83mASnPUYKLB3zv10ndx-A5IDAVmCfkSgRfUUF7V5X2TWlP5XS8WDo0NTBqBQDbU3mSPAKrsRe_duqprkXAh6g/w362-h640/IMG_4695.PNG" width="362" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Kz7eEZwghUCt7pqofJG3IHzWeRPF-mlfSOkD0UWykw2CeAMwmTNOdzQs_mA-8n6FPkhrkjgoR8ALGOCf_vtnB3xKtRVji7ub-eQrF1gB3GyZRLEYByH4TTGeSfIADTfU3MuOmWNQrD8KAhFQafm2-vkOzwK_Xn6H5elBrSwLvQMYEDn7d45FzH5oLg/s4032/IMG_4699.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Kz7eEZwghUCt7pqofJG3IHzWeRPF-mlfSOkD0UWykw2CeAMwmTNOdzQs_mA-8n6FPkhrkjgoR8ALGOCf_vtnB3xKtRVji7ub-eQrF1gB3GyZRLEYByH4TTGeSfIADTfU3MuOmWNQrD8KAhFQafm2-vkOzwK_Xn6H5elBrSwLvQMYEDn7d45FzH5oLg/w480-h640/IMG_4699.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Light yoga for the foreseeable future!</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><u><b>Quick Desert Hit </b>w/ Libby, 3/4–3/6</u></div><div style="text-align: center;"><u><br /></u></div><div style="text-align: left;">With a bum ankle and some desire to head down to the desert, Libby and I set off for a quick weekend boondocking and poking around in the desert. Our first stop was a pulloff along Highway 24 south of I70. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">For some reason I love rolling into a place in the dark not knowing really what the views from camp will look like. I was intentional about backing the truck into the pulloff so it would face the Reef, which I knew would be lit up by the sun in the morning. I wasn't wrong, and it was a great view from bed.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdVZoDsVdHvdrPLPtpAL36NZJVZSDqg-HVuLppiEqZx2pS-F54j0lRnTAlkeg5ezX02r4bApL3MSfx4CFfc0T_D21GDeyEo09YPqHtBi1Cn40XHf3IasfNorJa8R46SEjnTb88EmzOmz2ZY3AUb6mRTZbEMtv7NV6W4i8-hmoAMIxjnZnXbCtVJ_9ZiA/s4032/IMG_4785.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdVZoDsVdHvdrPLPtpAL36NZJVZSDqg-HVuLppiEqZx2pS-F54j0lRnTAlkeg5ezX02r4bApL3MSfx4CFfc0T_D21GDeyEo09YPqHtBi1Cn40XHf3IasfNorJa8R46SEjnTb88EmzOmz2ZY3AUb6mRTZbEMtv7NV6W4i8-hmoAMIxjnZnXbCtVJ_9ZiA/w640-h480/IMG_4785.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Shortly after sunrise I fired up some coffee. Libby and I sat on a rock and enjoyed watching the weather move in around us. It looked like it was raining elsewhere, but we stayed dry.</div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjD4jmyKXHPIcagms7zfTyrA5uYUvZ7dq3vOVjG6GOMEexVGCH-AtbJnEa0TLkwB1iT2GeOAAoDNa2nlbxpJ6A1JTrh-JcGjgIvQeG8ZV_d64bBPbX0_fJ3Qw3V3IhrFK7keXRz072bPGX15wfAK07WWBi-0gdGpl4Byr6Ni2fyvU5Ztoq3lFKv92_Gw/s4032/IMG_4789.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjD4jmyKXHPIcagms7zfTyrA5uYUvZ7dq3vOVjG6GOMEexVGCH-AtbJnEa0TLkwB1iT2GeOAAoDNa2nlbxpJ6A1JTrh-JcGjgIvQeG8ZV_d64bBPbX0_fJ3Qw3V3IhrFK7keXRz072bPGX15wfAK07WWBi-0gdGpl4Byr6Ni2fyvU5Ztoq3lFKv92_Gw/w640-h480/IMG_4789.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>The plan after that was to point it south toward Hanksville and eventually to an overpass in the road that bisected our objective for the day: Maidenwater Canyon. Highway 24 is a cool highway, and I'd love to take it and Highway 95 all the way to Blanding one day. So far we've driven most of that route with the major gap being Hite to Natural Bridges. Driving is not always cool, but it typically is when you're surrounded by lonely red rock country. I love the desert!!! </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyhow, Maidenwater was a sweet, mellow canyon with mostly uneventful obstacles save for an invigorating hip-deep wade. We had fairly scant beta downloaded onto my phone, and while we wanted to climb out of the canyon via Trail Canyon and overland back to the car, it was taking us too long to find the exit. So we backtracked all of the way instead.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu3z9Mz9m-3kvh13o_vaqwpfNrKXQi2q-lu-iuXz2eGOLvvkw0nXT4Payzvw_qPyIY5STuBxmjeZASt88G3juO2mx5S6qEzZy_um_rOtmSy4JzDB9NaFM3oomogeFy8IbL5BVavc8JvO2Kfy321UoBSdlCoJRPi6i4ZTQ6FjFZtgtMsURQDaPZWKKsDA/s4032/IMG_4799.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu3z9Mz9m-3kvh13o_vaqwpfNrKXQi2q-lu-iuXz2eGOLvvkw0nXT4Payzvw_qPyIY5STuBxmjeZASt88G3juO2mx5S6qEzZy_um_rOtmSy4JzDB9NaFM3oomogeFy8IbL5BVavc8JvO2Kfy321UoBSdlCoJRPi6i4ZTQ6FjFZtgtMsURQDaPZWKKsDA/w480-h640/IMG_4799.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmbySerqXgbrHt4HQpolJCVCU1Y1u6zQLY3Qc5oI2KH5VK9MRC0ga46_x8A2o9AeRVCqiC6zOzzNujfuD97kPRLqwtezZjEM1--MXSH7EJSORw5pj7McwLQqrxqQIKTZC6Nmg6Z9TbWSGoKBP8jMFYJIv3cJEYs5nm7pnABzo77-yu5ZzfsxJC8jId_A/s4032/IMG_4800.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmbySerqXgbrHt4HQpolJCVCU1Y1u6zQLY3Qc5oI2KH5VK9MRC0ga46_x8A2o9AeRVCqiC6zOzzNujfuD97kPRLqwtezZjEM1--MXSH7EJSORw5pj7McwLQqrxqQIKTZC6Nmg6Z9TbWSGoKBP8jMFYJIv3cJEYs5nm7pnABzo77-yu5ZzfsxJC8jId_A/w480-h640/IMG_4800.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFN5vX8VrX7QEhyeTTYL3TEnIN3k61uH9vMlMicoWJ35yQD1oQW2TqQY0xvgRWF0TYj9UeLjCYioT1M_pJtwaj-DGUv8zF4E1wyKSEMrMJe-nJHv0RPwT5H6lLmdRc8QXjVoDWPbdnoNf9yQRchGc4HyF4ncqdwIaZ2IgO-8l85uIgrJ9crUKV3Reh_Q/s4032/IMG_4807.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFN5vX8VrX7QEhyeTTYL3TEnIN3k61uH9vMlMicoWJ35yQD1oQW2TqQY0xvgRWF0TYj9UeLjCYioT1M_pJtwaj-DGUv8zF4E1wyKSEMrMJe-nJHv0RPwT5H6lLmdRc8QXjVoDWPbdnoNf9yQRchGc4HyF4ncqdwIaZ2IgO-8l85uIgrJ9crUKV3Reh_Q/w480-h640/IMG_4807.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>We had a mellow evening at an empty Sandthrax Campground, playing chess and cooking. The next morning we contemplated descending Hogwarts Canyon, but the skies threatened rain so we returned home. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><u><b>Spaceshot Attempt, </b>Zion National Park, 3/11–3/12</u></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>At some point this spring I decided to buy atriers and start practicing aid climbing. I read thee aid climbing book, spent some time in the gym and at home dialing in systems, and practiced some aid leading in Little Cottonwood Canyon. When I told Greg that I was getting pysched on learning how to aid climb, he expressed interest in doing an introductory aid route with me.</div><div><br /></div><div>This was very nice of him; Greg is quite the accomplished mountain human. He's climbed El Cap a handful of times, he's aided many routes in Zion, and he's also logged some impressive Alaska ski descents. I knew that if there was ever a time to really learn aid climbing, it would be with someone like him.</div><div><br /></div><div>We decided on Spaceshot because it's a relatively short wall, and supposedly the aid climbing isn't <i>that </i>tricky at C2/C2+ (we were kind of wrong). To really achieve the full effect, Greg advocated that we climb it wall style rather than smash-and-grab, which is what a lot of parties do for Spaceshot. </div><div><br /></div><div>We get into Zion fairly early and headed up the wall mid-morning. I made a short Instagram story thing describing my experience on the route, so if you want the full details, go check it out there. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEIIj3WelTYRM2WzdqhQhA9iMSUTFtgoy6XcRkqBA6ovMlkM-Ws3J9au35hh-Q99LBxlS2fJEFIC9bWo8QnE-mgMerfAZp0BBHjQ3NNSre5PsO4EcHtXy0_DtBFZFq9c1TBux84D4x8_N6NYd6C0Gq1Tzy8bpXIvL0Fjie3StkcrEeJO5LPvp_qQnuWw/s4032/IMG_4838.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEIIj3WelTYRM2WzdqhQhA9iMSUTFtgoy6XcRkqBA6ovMlkM-Ws3J9au35hh-Q99LBxlS2fJEFIC9bWo8QnE-mgMerfAZp0BBHjQ3NNSre5PsO4EcHtXy0_DtBFZFq9c1TBux84D4x8_N6NYd6C0Gq1Tzy8bpXIvL0Fjie3StkcrEeJO5LPvp_qQnuWw/w480-h640/IMG_4838.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Whiskey turned out to be a critical item in the haul bag. It was there with me when I fired off my first aid lead, and it was there when we decided to bail and hang out on a large, open ledge. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisGt6VzWEqVhuVpusnQsK8FYsufokAdF_Xgk8ca4ucu8tquxUBtFybvL7eUf_-KOh3nmiGcpKE3CuAIW9lNwrugtMom0ARy_F3n_oesiUSt8TpxPjkuj2bNu3wzB1xJwoab6g3EBb2NyaoOy24RySBNFmXnv4kuEMhGbaty_2GY598h8n0NAvq1qxdnQ/s2960/IMG_4841.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2960" data-original-width="2220" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisGt6VzWEqVhuVpusnQsK8FYsufokAdF_Xgk8ca4ucu8tquxUBtFybvL7eUf_-KOh3nmiGcpKE3CuAIW9lNwrugtMom0ARy_F3n_oesiUSt8TpxPjkuj2bNu3wzB1xJwoab6g3EBb2NyaoOy24RySBNFmXnv4kuEMhGbaty_2GY598h8n0NAvq1qxdnQ/w480-h640/IMG_4841.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyMhMG5uU0AMbY2ANMkwK1jGriTnvQcLRh4onKCAgb-gbO0Ky4fe8TGWn_5yrLg3zl3ewWH1MOTi6YbvuoQ8gbWQtp8jlI1b3d0rwUF5IIfKEba4kIq4ci-1La6or6CtHMDvp6lzFBOnMEvp6INIMKT5iNQJHo3m6JrfHMGzD2eYwYC5diRmXiC_YrGw/s4032/IMG_2687_Original.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyMhMG5uU0AMbY2ANMkwK1jGriTnvQcLRh4onKCAgb-gbO0Ky4fe8TGWn_5yrLg3zl3ewWH1MOTi6YbvuoQ8gbWQtp8jlI1b3d0rwUF5IIfKEba4kIq4ci-1La6or6CtHMDvp6lzFBOnMEvp6INIMKT5iNQJHo3m6JrfHMGzD2eYwYC5diRmXiC_YrGw/w480-h640/IMG_2687_Original.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I now understand the difficulty of covering long distances with a haulbag. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyVI6rL3M6UGCvR14EAjcIjw6ojKZvXy-PiEaxDFFARsvlmDWoGL3QB9n0aTGzOixcRVAOe7wkcHFfcI33CeCc519C1yS5FzST3BfmWMIv6hm94e-Frfa6bK6ukvnbCcHxX_krpw5b95hki-pb-NmaLyK1UeUlsF34DE4G5fPMYxgAnFnJOi_2piYjtQ/s4000/IMG_4876.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyVI6rL3M6UGCvR14EAjcIjw6ojKZvXy-PiEaxDFFARsvlmDWoGL3QB9n0aTGzOixcRVAOe7wkcHFfcI33CeCc519C1yS5FzST3BfmWMIv6hm94e-Frfa6bK6ukvnbCcHxX_krpw5b95hki-pb-NmaLyK1UeUlsF34DE4G5fPMYxgAnFnJOi_2piYjtQ/w640-h480/IMG_4876.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHegtAIh7NIwtcvuUDapwd145c7WLVurhJGsrOutvvj6qmgFm44uYp9Miyian5jbVYFce6ISfGHqEu_6WpDlcSsawBziVAGPFoAnA28JiNFaPmYZh-o-6qQCwEolf0ZXEtHFZaLkOhHUvHISTUp8_xqbBJ0ymwpGvxwDBhv0rw1mW0yODWO_ElJCFhGQ/s4000/IMG_4879.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHegtAIh7NIwtcvuUDapwd145c7WLVurhJGsrOutvvj6qmgFm44uYp9Miyian5jbVYFce6ISfGHqEu_6WpDlcSsawBziVAGPFoAnA28JiNFaPmYZh-o-6qQCwEolf0ZXEtHFZaLkOhHUvHISTUp8_xqbBJ0ymwpGvxwDBhv0rw1mW0yODWO_ElJCFhGQ/w640-h480/IMG_4879.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Our haulbag got stuck on the low-angle approach pitches. I was bone thirsty throughout this whole endeavor, and it was really fun working with Greg and using my knowledge of ropes/anchors to problem solve our way out of things. That was actually my favorite part of the whole experience. There would be a constant back and forth about how to optimize certain plans. Greg would suggest one thing, I would counter-suggest another thing, and eventually we would decide on a plan of action that we deemed the most efficient.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkE_Tzdc1VhtjVAlf7sg7j4h9pQj6OJXZQ4lUonrtOrYV01G5loJ2vqqOoD0FwWhN8av8Er8LnTFd1GPrkjyyvjzzcm7usNFF_Whn350Mc7-WemDU55vdzXWou5DU6f7Yp4RaQuMkZEbyDBwmkAi4xDiKBLRzQeSPKU9kmakBpzgk-pdezocWz3Kn2Kw/s4032/IMG_2705_Original.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkE_Tzdc1VhtjVAlf7sg7j4h9pQj6OJXZQ4lUonrtOrYV01G5loJ2vqqOoD0FwWhN8av8Er8LnTFd1GPrkjyyvjzzcm7usNFF_Whn350Mc7-WemDU55vdzXWou5DU6f7Yp4RaQuMkZEbyDBwmkAi4xDiKBLRzQeSPKU9kmakBpzgk-pdezocWz3Kn2Kw/w640-h480/IMG_2705_Original.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Eventually we got to our bivy ledge and I fired off the bolt ladder lead. Turns out C1 is no indication of how 'easy' the pitch would feel. Stepping in the top rung of my atriers was very strenuous, and it took me a while to make progress. Greg played music to encourage me, and he also managed to set up camp while belaying me. Wall climbing was starting to feel like a lot of work. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXV8COM2kEr40wTOGTM0LPhDilf1csGrP3kNdmKyxQPF-37esGlMwKpGGKyuO_akwsu7fZTW62Q6OJ79UtHzie3jUGM2VeV4iXtE0X-GmFVUjZXroWXVjyfY-fQ4aJ97edkJkyPZ1mdhAtDV2Z4xlxz3EjFLcX1XQghhXSs9GG_GB8U8PilZ8FWF1byw/s4032/IMG_2710_Original.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXV8COM2kEr40wTOGTM0LPhDilf1csGrP3kNdmKyxQPF-37esGlMwKpGGKyuO_akwsu7fZTW62Q6OJ79UtHzie3jUGM2VeV4iXtE0X-GmFVUjZXroWXVjyfY-fQ4aJ97edkJkyPZ1mdhAtDV2Z4xlxz3EjFLcX1XQghhXSs9GG_GB8U8PilZ8FWF1byw/w640-h480/IMG_2710_Original.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRogV_kQIlzpU6f8DSZr-RwxFLvqQokfpegXi57HMtQcLur6VB9uT4x0yOON2wICAPUNvft332tMUGM4_mvpoilfVFfqnzdtHocpQcIRbjSIrJ2HrXOBVD2SbJwTWWKLtR_bDHXVMdXAVv1GXZyLsBRkCuVo5urBb60km5BDstnQ_JPDD7Ir5NstJxqQ/s4032/IMG_4849.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRogV_kQIlzpU6f8DSZr-RwxFLvqQokfpegXi57HMtQcLur6VB9uT4x0yOON2wICAPUNvft332tMUGM4_mvpoilfVFfqnzdtHocpQcIRbjSIrJ2HrXOBVD2SbJwTWWKLtR_bDHXVMdXAVv1GXZyLsBRkCuVo5urBb60km5BDstnQ_JPDD7Ir5NstJxqQ/w480-h640/IMG_4849.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">For some reason I could NOT stomach the canned chili despite being hungry, so I duct-taped it shut hoping that I would regain some hunger. I knew this was a bad sign. Before too long we were in the portaledge trying to go to sleep, but my stomach felt way off. At one point I was sitting up with my head hanging off the side of the portaledge, ready to puke. Luckily it passed. I was not excited at the prospect of getting sick during my first portaledge experience. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCfN3AJtNVGVCaExP9nl4NLdrZzPiz-2A0TVxmgBily5xgu0VrZvh0hzDVQ_2EfjvCQav7TKcqtRwdOJP0YfaIw9Ymr76DWgMnbz-WndV8qmj0vt8RO0oBJ4HGkCIAZVHlUBtJORPM-zPLLq_5zBXWa0mNV_I1cM0A1VZkiC9z8VlS5Od7_Y4qxNjY1g/s4032/IMG_4855.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCfN3AJtNVGVCaExP9nl4NLdrZzPiz-2A0TVxmgBily5xgu0VrZvh0hzDVQ_2EfjvCQav7TKcqtRwdOJP0YfaIw9Ymr76DWgMnbz-WndV8qmj0vt8RO0oBJ4HGkCIAZVHlUBtJORPM-zPLLq_5zBXWa0mNV_I1cM0A1VZkiC9z8VlS5Od7_Y4qxNjY1g/w640-h480/IMG_4855.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>The next morning Greg ascending to my high point and fired off the rest of the pitch. He hung around for maybe 1.5 hours below one specific placement. Luckily we brought my tricams and the pitch just barely went.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuosb42PWhHe_LBkeYMHAowLOqNWq8b7D_kOiRbQ-gRgobMDTAzbh_AYZ0PFShbon8hVwkwM8OXWcj9cOD9oDxpAVFAs-Q-IqQquCWA0CTFA_vLM-36e_QIgPBNqrz-ciKvy8rM2yOQtOfkuZhRCWohC6T6c6n2qJIrAgk5Zyz5eLNuYRg_RT1hm4TaQ/s4032/IMG_4856.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuosb42PWhHe_LBkeYMHAowLOqNWq8b7D_kOiRbQ-gRgobMDTAzbh_AYZ0PFShbon8hVwkwM8OXWcj9cOD9oDxpAVFAs-Q-IqQquCWA0CTFA_vLM-36e_QIgPBNqrz-ciKvy8rM2yOQtOfkuZhRCWohC6T6c6n2qJIrAgk5Zyz5eLNuYRg_RT1hm4TaQ/w480-h640/IMG_4856.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht2kQzgqTjePhAHhoPGJkdYI68eSUU4iQl1jQPPUZ8Mc402EQBD4OwvzKGj0zc7wfYxZ67eL7QtJu9JbIkrdXzVR6FgqspufKjQP48tJzDdfaAoRcL1saFuvjDG5KgC0DqJlhkZ_lQdnjSX-bTK5MW-RkXbdImMU1DTXIjo2lu9YB3JGq4ox_HxM5inA/s4032/IMG_4858.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht2kQzgqTjePhAHhoPGJkdYI68eSUU4iQl1jQPPUZ8Mc402EQBD4OwvzKGj0zc7wfYxZ67eL7QtJu9JbIkrdXzVR6FgqspufKjQP48tJzDdfaAoRcL1saFuvjDG5KgC0DqJlhkZ_lQdnjSX-bTK5MW-RkXbdImMU1DTXIjo2lu9YB3JGq4ox_HxM5inA/w640-h480/IMG_4858.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I belayed Greg for about 2.5 hours, maybe more. This required a lot of patience. I listened to music and podcasts on my phone while I waited. The jugging went quick, and I made it to our first hanging belay of the day. The next pitch is supposed to be the hardest, and I was not the most excited about hanging out on an exposed belay for another 2.5, 3 hours. </div></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaq0jhoGsk08cVDJ4dqblXRWHISn55HOfge7QXb07OauDx03N6Bz50E5OWVKk8c1rbzQVgShB254SsQWfAeKMFEDe1NhpW6vbPlGHICPvqLLXP9aJRN97CdX4EKDk_98WLDT2u6dTTUny0-qnIKLXOb4opNFM8KpNQVLkfg-xolnO7gySu8z2jfGancQ/s4032/IMG_4859.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaq0jhoGsk08cVDJ4dqblXRWHISn55HOfge7QXb07OauDx03N6Bz50E5OWVKk8c1rbzQVgShB254SsQWfAeKMFEDe1NhpW6vbPlGHICPvqLLXP9aJRN97CdX4EKDk_98WLDT2u6dTTUny0-qnIKLXOb4opNFM8KpNQVLkfg-xolnO7gySu8z2jfGancQ/w640-h480/IMG_4859.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOIsBMTmYHt_dwc-QcXy8h2oG7i_RecLGB5lS9HSx5fpLFRj1VHvamiAU8r8NwXBGwRnrXEBBC5qffPLWbnXEMQYYHQDeVHpvkn6rCtzGe0GJazpFQ47P79pjlfVjUV8Y5myDXmoaJx2EIj2XPLyvf9XUHnx3qVm3kTjVbA7EnVHMHojnrDKDqd1u6YA/s4032/IMG_4860.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOIsBMTmYHt_dwc-QcXy8h2oG7i_RecLGB5lS9HSx5fpLFRj1VHvamiAU8r8NwXBGwRnrXEBBC5qffPLWbnXEMQYYHQDeVHpvkn6rCtzGe0GJazpFQ47P79pjlfVjUV8Y5myDXmoaJx2EIj2XPLyvf9XUHnx3qVm3kTjVbA7EnVHMHojnrDKDqd1u6YA/w480-h640/IMG_4860.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Greg and I discussed how indeed we were going quite slow, and it was questionable whether we'd even make it to the Earth Orbit Ledge by nightfall. After some deliberation, we decided to 'soft' bail. We could've kept going, but I lacked the motivation. It was a great lesson in just how gnarly wall climbing can be. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMsm20sqtNSE_Ww26Uyd7wCEsbd9c4MLod3zlpYdegxH9BQ14ElyNl_CCArFKCHnykDa1AOjx7aYcsjjOuHAF33x1rUMtPR4MiyJvoidNc2c-Vb37TRSlCNyGLxFr2CvhhQwWDFNBJXBDkJvLzGuhw6C0U5r2a8rNdvnpqjtLjQOU9NAIhxLKafjScEw/s4032/IMG_4861.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMsm20sqtNSE_Ww26Uyd7wCEsbd9c4MLod3zlpYdegxH9BQ14ElyNl_CCArFKCHnykDa1AOjx7aYcsjjOuHAF33x1rUMtPR4MiyJvoidNc2c-Vb37TRSlCNyGLxFr2CvhhQwWDFNBJXBDkJvLzGuhw6C0U5r2a8rNdvnpqjtLjQOU9NAIhxLKafjScEw/w480-h640/IMG_4861.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I have no distinct desire to go back to Zion and attempt Spaceshot again. I'm not sure if and when the psych for aid climbing will return, but it was a meaningful experience for me and I'm glad Greg humored me in giving it a go. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><u><b>Wheeler Peak</b>, Great Basin National Park, 3/26</u></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>After getting shut down on Spaceshot, weeks later I threw out the idea to Greg that we should go ski Wheeler Peak in GBNP. </div><div><br /></div><div>There was something alluring about the Snake Range of Nevada, which lies plumb dead in the middle of barren Great Basin country. It's such a strange national park; there's not a ton of access points, there's little pretense in the surrounding towns (there's barely any towns, come to think of it), and there's a stark lack of the hubbub you find at other national parks. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was eerie rolling up to the empty trailhead late at night, with warm air and the winds howling high overhead. </div><div><br /></div><div>We awoke proper early and started the long, low-angle skin into the drainage.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT7UXxF3decDXYlAex1X0PddM83uPwb5m0Ybq2elxHWJhUCx5lQP5ni15Bx0vF8aJtVlMw8QtEe5xzVwl8tbuudmlt6iwqnL6cwqNzQ2BIBk99taH7DliVjAYoqCKoWvESxBrDptxs2ngqG4FZB2_R5JndDVqSPfoq3xt5zZp7VtwEqs1L3eRhXmn92A/s4032/IMG_4968.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT7UXxF3decDXYlAex1X0PddM83uPwb5m0Ybq2elxHWJhUCx5lQP5ni15Bx0vF8aJtVlMw8QtEe5xzVwl8tbuudmlt6iwqnL6cwqNzQ2BIBk99taH7DliVjAYoqCKoWvESxBrDptxs2ngqG4FZB2_R5JndDVqSPfoq3xt5zZp7VtwEqs1L3eRhXmn92A/w640-h480/IMG_4968.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Despite very warm feeling air, the clouds remained overhead, the wind continued to blow, and the snow on the ascent stayed firm. We knew we'd have to dial back our original plans a little bit. </div><div><br /></div><div>Evidently Wheeler Peak gets hammered by wind from all directions. The ascent was a mixture of hardpack skinning, to booting up loose talus, to walking along a dry summer trail.</div><div> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRXaJagb1RFYIxOPYCnbFEjUIDPS_gzXdMYf-4nA5Z45_nNxi-CjZGWgYYqghbFZhnQqrl-tH0m5b6zaNaWEw7ao9yZp1rWL7vKpEZ_F3-BkvUAvQzDtAzo0P8zrjyUbv8OMaD5ytuSdKW9HOe6iLgE2EeqUoK8sdfhP51-b6BYcCaL641rt3-VBll-Q/s4032/IMG_4971.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRXaJagb1RFYIxOPYCnbFEjUIDPS_gzXdMYf-4nA5Z45_nNxi-CjZGWgYYqghbFZhnQqrl-tH0m5b6zaNaWEw7ao9yZp1rWL7vKpEZ_F3-BkvUAvQzDtAzo0P8zrjyUbv8OMaD5ytuSdKW9HOe6iLgE2EeqUoK8sdfhP51-b6BYcCaL641rt3-VBll-Q/w640-h480/IMG_4971.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It was starting to feel like a proper old-guy mountaineering experience!</div></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRjRtiFaG8M34BRluKFCxKnfqsCdFwiXNNruc8gu-LY9QORXbKEnDKix3Q9D5s8EdVnT0xQZ3pUsmZzjcfW-2LEoWNfeUlnulhU7n-WNP_alZVGiCgIaRCuSMFRT6bPIBLZN-h4WjODDoxYKzH0qh6PpcrHAkJ6czC-zLDvhceusE8gX6x2O-g-vvIVQ/s4032/IMG_4975.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRjRtiFaG8M34BRluKFCxKnfqsCdFwiXNNruc8gu-LY9QORXbKEnDKix3Q9D5s8EdVnT0xQZ3pUsmZzjcfW-2LEoWNfeUlnulhU7n-WNP_alZVGiCgIaRCuSMFRT6bPIBLZN-h4WjODDoxYKzH0qh6PpcrHAkJ6czC-zLDvhceusE8gX6x2O-g-vvIVQ/w640-h480/IMG_4975.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE9LSFU-OfuME6Eb1lAfGYsuRWwZerRkolh3Da3UWIYP7Cwu7G7Ug_56x4x69qrS05Iolfu-3D0hX0GhmpibWGmuCOs69xn6ik9W4qtactXhKLkUfdjA7Yt8A0yz2-9FaD_p-EIqvQh3FXompCkxqk9aU5u8m65mZbRhbHRCt1FYgtdQW4-lHLtpSPRA/s3215/IMG_4979.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2411" data-original-width="3215" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE9LSFU-OfuME6Eb1lAfGYsuRWwZerRkolh3Da3UWIYP7Cwu7G7Ug_56x4x69qrS05Iolfu-3D0hX0GhmpibWGmuCOs69xn6ik9W4qtactXhKLkUfdjA7Yt8A0yz2-9FaD_p-EIqvQh3FXompCkxqk9aU5u8m65mZbRhbHRCt1FYgtdQW4-lHLtpSPRA/w640-h480/IMG_4979.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The last 1000' were a slog; the altitude certainly slowed me down. We stopped at the top for about 30 minutes to take everything in, and we realized there's definitely a lot of skiing to be had here. I'd love to come back and access from the drainage to the south and get some of those fine-looking corn runs. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3vq1C9bDxszKOLf5iaMS5tFLrZG1wd_iy61ANvXZpZVnmyxREVhxuphojyJ4XFbPJK5U6WEdr11uRVi1pslxkFWpM5dc1ukD_NSbbTT_UrcGgApUDjb1lbKZRFx4cMrKRWz7tMHZII6kTprEDGExWl5QaFIvrFVqMYNZ8HX8onWGxrSeDQK8hTjtk6Q/s4032/IMG_4980.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3vq1C9bDxszKOLf5iaMS5tFLrZG1wd_iy61ANvXZpZVnmyxREVhxuphojyJ4XFbPJK5U6WEdr11uRVi1pslxkFWpM5dc1ukD_NSbbTT_UrcGgApUDjb1lbKZRFx4cMrKRWz7tMHZII6kTprEDGExWl5QaFIvrFVqMYNZ8HX8onWGxrSeDQK8hTjtk6Q/w640-h480/IMG_4980.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The skiing down was quite marginal but at least the clouds started to part. There was one 600' ribbon of nice windbuffed snow that afforded some fun turns. Very quickly we entered into the land of schmoo, and the descent back to the trailhead was slow and arduous. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmieu9JXe_-cHCSJBps-NKkQ4LsZLHkVNYvorrzmqUGRtwJaMD08DjAtolDRzyoguLIS_h5QkxkXC2Qfs1FB5p5bT0qccKgN7ynbuREpNCoYUGq2lr1NOk6EeGea4QRqVDyp84REOvB_gKbz37bs3ZXNWzKLu_2jq9597kG-pbtPWlAzpluUBAFp4-ug/s4032/IMG_4984.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmieu9JXe_-cHCSJBps-NKkQ4LsZLHkVNYvorrzmqUGRtwJaMD08DjAtolDRzyoguLIS_h5QkxkXC2Qfs1FB5p5bT0qccKgN7ynbuREpNCoYUGq2lr1NOk6EeGea4QRqVDyp84REOvB_gKbz37bs3ZXNWzKLu_2jq9597kG-pbtPWlAzpluUBAFp4-ug/w480-h640/IMG_4984.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyjMj2FarH2r8qcFBCn7hCo09msSkOEHKt_ZVoJjGgmpX028kPZ5kbP0pDLj2r9s1ObvnPUKPIiloF59Rq3fcQlaK6lVyV4J4IjjOFIsltCejsf2OcQsyDcDbQ9fwkP1BiXjjWwgdufWU_ggk8HWqNNES-tVWGvhkCEDr2rXR2aWo1-NdCepchYny-Pw/s1473/IMG_4986.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="828" data-original-width="1473" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyjMj2FarH2r8qcFBCn7hCo09msSkOEHKt_ZVoJjGgmpX028kPZ5kbP0pDLj2r9s1ObvnPUKPIiloF59Rq3fcQlaK6lVyV4J4IjjOFIsltCejsf2OcQsyDcDbQ9fwkP1BiXjjWwgdufWU_ggk8HWqNNES-tVWGvhkCEDr2rXR2aWo1-NdCepchYny-Pw/w640-h360/IMG_4986.PNG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The riding conditions were nothing to write home about, but it was fun summiting Wheeler Peak with my splitboard. It felt like more of a mountaineering experience than a ski mountaineering experience, but that was fine with me. </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><u><b>Spring has Sprung in the Wasatch</b>, 3/27</u></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Not really much to report on this fun outing in LCC aside from a gnarly wet slide coming off of Perla's Ridge that sounded like a freight train moving through the canyon. Impressive stuff. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEcKAromHiIoRbprOpj6KqVzlQ9ZOhEdg6iunSqd7NEf94ZtjDgIzPxTxHNXnAWXRHGaqM_ToW3uaUQIEPlkcHsNMEQZUzOKm39hZGwanO9EIs2wDCJZyBfw66YsKojjDMcFxV7EXt6TLJ34B6VPCQNQb8Tz79Pigw5z2uiC5FiPZffcIckdfY94MZ6g/s4032/IMG_4998.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEcKAromHiIoRbprOpj6KqVzlQ9ZOhEdg6iunSqd7NEf94ZtjDgIzPxTxHNXnAWXRHGaqM_ToW3uaUQIEPlkcHsNMEQZUzOKm39hZGwanO9EIs2wDCJZyBfw66YsKojjDMcFxV7EXt6TLJ34B6VPCQNQb8Tz79Pigw5z2uiC5FiPZffcIckdfY94MZ6g/w640-h480/IMG_4998.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOdKI6ITMGU-H7l48eZ8Q_PTfDb705wUKD6s2G8BmFOWRMDZHiOUgMb6XaBvhPB8HlTA50TeH6kBUKV5_W5WyMET00q0ofDc9FH1RF5KkGH2NJo1bLSi_57WbvOwStOlFojdwBAhivtXVVNa_nqWNYe3M1PPsywwsUYAJ_gL7Ka7o9vB5pxccsFR_-Aw/s4032/67011146000__5B578E14-6F18-4364-9190-A22732E084E8.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOdKI6ITMGU-H7l48eZ8Q_PTfDb705wUKD6s2G8BmFOWRMDZHiOUgMb6XaBvhPB8HlTA50TeH6kBUKV5_W5WyMET00q0ofDc9FH1RF5KkGH2NJo1bLSi_57WbvOwStOlFojdwBAhivtXVVNa_nqWNYe3M1PPsywwsUYAJ_gL7Ka7o9vB5pxccsFR_-Aw/w480-h640/67011146000__5B578E14-6F18-4364-9190-A22732E084E8.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis7vhfi_FpPD4iq_fKgR_rjvY_R-xC83kB8Bt4DBrbDrE-nvlm0GdohfPVQeun-dVDSRF1yNNsvUUDM_cheweXnqgZeViwXjCROcbhVMqrjBp7ypZyHBqr_ieTQ_4hEl5ee5GvFpv_p5wMBedz5N5aZ4TX230jrJN5A46RpWMH3mlWv2TFHM8yOzOy0w/s2200/IMG_4995.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2200" data-original-width="1650" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis7vhfi_FpPD4iq_fKgR_rjvY_R-xC83kB8Bt4DBrbDrE-nvlm0GdohfPVQeun-dVDSRF1yNNsvUUDM_cheweXnqgZeViwXjCROcbhVMqrjBp7ypZyHBqr_ieTQ_4hEl5ee5GvFpv_p5wMBedz5N5aZ4TX230jrJN5A46RpWMH3mlWv2TFHM8yOzOy0w/w480-h640/IMG_4995.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Nick and I were very glad to be on the other side of the canyon when this happened. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><u><b>Icefall</b>, 4/3</u></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Icefall remained an enticing line ever since I walked away from it last May. Luckily things lined up on this day and Nick and I scored it in excellent corn conditions. Probably some of the best corn I've ridden in a long, long time.</div><div> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixkvoQC41GwYfEHeA1dGdcBC30WKJi2OlE5K1CTFje9snfJ7ju30Rx3cIV5iH5oWbhm3sn-A9DMW0WfN1RCLmjMaqiEXT-of6b4welj_7GwlJNvt1g6iaKZiJ0Kwa673E0dR6u8_ZBSPzssfTcmV0RrFO80wrr5bj4R8hutKDHK4XEkIg4XaycPeAL_w/s4032/IMG_5073.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixkvoQC41GwYfEHeA1dGdcBC30WKJi2OlE5K1CTFje9snfJ7ju30Rx3cIV5iH5oWbhm3sn-A9DMW0WfN1RCLmjMaqiEXT-of6b4welj_7GwlJNvt1g6iaKZiJ0Kwa673E0dR6u8_ZBSPzssfTcmV0RrFO80wrr5bj4R8hutKDHK4XEkIg4XaycPeAL_w/w640-h480/IMG_5073.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc-ghnldkxRMod8qeMb7KlHPZtCTz7KZM6ziICRBsRkE8KSaEDVo5latDbCYoxNE6tWaCqoxjo0dz2vfzD_KEKxsPdhh22TQcOSnvs1nocLMEgIwNB3YOhqznIc3GRY25QJUp0TVTOAt0ub2rk2FCwdDPJNyoDXnIlOFweYN0LSlnkmTLDKfRJOIFKgg/s4032/IMG_5074.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc-ghnldkxRMod8qeMb7KlHPZtCTz7KZM6ziICRBsRkE8KSaEDVo5latDbCYoxNE6tWaCqoxjo0dz2vfzD_KEKxsPdhh22TQcOSnvs1nocLMEgIwNB3YOhqznIc3GRY25QJUp0TVTOAt0ub2rk2FCwdDPJNyoDXnIlOFweYN0LSlnkmTLDKfRJOIFKgg/w640-h480/IMG_5074.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Nick and I chose to drop in from the steep skier's left entrance (maybe 45-50 deg?). Conditions were perfect for this angle. I took the first turns down and hooted and hollered as the corn was soft yet supportable. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We both ripped it pretty fast to the bottom of the run, and made the very warm and exposed skin back up to East Pass. Shards of quartzite talus reigned down on us on the lower portions of the exit, and we tried moving as quickly as possible. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Icefall is a very high quality corn descent; it has a little bit of everything. This was probably my favorite run of the season, which isn't saying a ton because this past season I didn't really splitboard anything major. Still, I'd ride Icefall again in a heartbeat. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><u><b>North Chimney</b>, Castletown Tower, 4/15</u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ben told me to clear my calendar for this weekend because we both wanted to get some desert tower climbing in. Desert tower climbing felt a lot like a rite of passage for the adventure climber. I had been climbing fairly well leading up to this weekend and I was ready for whatever Castleton would have to throw at us.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'd never climbed with Ben, although I had spent plenty of time with him, so I didn't know exactly what I was getting into. He ended up being a great partner and I'm psyched to share a rope with him again. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_muVa-VJJztsuk4gcg6yf0OH9XNARB64v_QylVahXzfpSo4kfSiXx0V0Wl-Ov2F5TxCu6qNMcX10giLNM4lPD8cFXqCNsly6u2jGwxLYBKaWzW2Gajsis84rCsCYIOVmQiC5A4GVAfIv3uCXiZ6QBCsjNsI4fNoQHx-xSdooSMsshWNCMS1jCnyaqqQ/s4032/IMG_4913.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_muVa-VJJztsuk4gcg6yf0OH9XNARB64v_QylVahXzfpSo4kfSiXx0V0Wl-Ov2F5TxCu6qNMcX10giLNM4lPD8cFXqCNsly6u2jGwxLYBKaWzW2Gajsis84rCsCYIOVmQiC5A4GVAfIv3uCXiZ6QBCsjNsI4fNoQHx-xSdooSMsshWNCMS1jCnyaqqQ/w480-h640/IMG_4913.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The tower of all desert towers</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUhybqrCB77UCrEryZNQ8JtGn3AxKV-crk5jmiF_VLKACwAgjmmRAxR4tEMgxO5s7IlA-d2dr_bFhxnHYFJN083d-8ZS_1UTNwhtv11k1VKjH9dRtWZPXuNXFfJZuzLPEkek2Fg6M1Yj87Xr_OPvW8WX5EuyWpsipHL_fZQz_oQZ15uwZqVAqIlg2gxw/s4032/IMG_5130.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUhybqrCB77UCrEryZNQ8JtGn3AxKV-crk5jmiF_VLKACwAgjmmRAxR4tEMgxO5s7IlA-d2dr_bFhxnHYFJN083d-8ZS_1UTNwhtv11k1VKjH9dRtWZPXuNXFfJZuzLPEkek2Fg6M1Yj87Xr_OPvW8WX5EuyWpsipHL_fZQz_oQZ15uwZqVAqIlg2gxw/w640-h480/IMG_5130.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The approach to any of the climbs on Castleton is non-trivial</div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We were prepared to climb either the Kor Ingalls or the North Chimney depending on wind and crowds. We turned the corner from the North Chimney to the KI and winds were practically unbearable. We had to yell to eachother and our wind layers fluttered like flimsy sails in stormy seas. North Chimney it is.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">After waiting behind a guided party with a client who was just learning how to crack climb (probably 1.5 hours of waiting), Ben set off on the first pitch, which (I thought) was a physical double crack dihedral on vertical rock. I think this would be a 5.9+ or even a 10 considering the start anywhere else in the desert, but we were on Castleton where tradition rules the day.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzJtWL4Xsx7PLSeMRjYmEyWu7moyiNAKb8fr18EFt3qxypPJsh1A1gRnfFbIxkd26T3ph7Z4zoA5Rcmy9sdhsNEHOBUS2LhLrUnA8kfFJsk173SrZz6tcRxow5CSs_OUYp0TF4u94kIveibWDmFVZB03JeeptzyWc9L5MXz-xrSs3AxVLsYbAXeQGBEA/s4032/IMG_5131.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzJtWL4Xsx7PLSeMRjYmEyWu7moyiNAKb8fr18EFt3qxypPJsh1A1gRnfFbIxkd26T3ph7Z4zoA5Rcmy9sdhsNEHOBUS2LhLrUnA8kfFJsk173SrZz6tcRxow5CSs_OUYp0TF4u94kIveibWDmFVZB03JeeptzyWc9L5MXz-xrSs3AxVLsYbAXeQGBEA/w480-h640/IMG_5131.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>I followed the pitch and felt like my back was soaked in water. It turns out that I forgot to fully screw on the cap for the bladder. Oops.</div><div><br /></div><div>We made a speedy changeover on the top of pitch 1, and perhaps to not make Ben think I was a total chuffer, I was very deliberate in starting up the offwidth pitch with little hesitation. </div><div><br /></div><div>The first couple of bodylengths were very easy, and then came the offwidth which protected splendidly with a 6. I walked it up a few few from a good stance and fired off the true offwidth section, using feet out left. This was a pretty difficult section of climbing. I had to catch my breath for a minute or two afterwards. </div><div><br /></div><div>The climb does not really let up either. I continued up the chimney, climbing past several refrigerator-sized chockstones that either require classic chimneying, delicate stemming, or boulder-y layback sequences. All of the X'ed chockstones/flakes add to the excitement and make the movement much more interesting. It was an excellent pitch and I'm glad I led it. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLRKRTmXAeFUjmUs2zGBLYAgSFPhvlIAmd0kmyBVvW6sCrBuuHajDUAXwzIlJWnv0_MN8DPT9HDpDXicvG7unn0sf4cVDAzjjCgSSONufEKvmhNVogG--By7NTAhG5WZ1xc5sFvixJRRbpvFAO82zWofu2xKQeLlE8A17zddC0n2YLpEX9PAlT77ahXQ/s4032/IMG_5135.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLRKRTmXAeFUjmUs2zGBLYAgSFPhvlIAmd0kmyBVvW6sCrBuuHajDUAXwzIlJWnv0_MN8DPT9HDpDXicvG7unn0sf4cVDAzjjCgSSONufEKvmhNVogG--By7NTAhG5WZ1xc5sFvixJRRbpvFAO82zWofu2xKQeLlE8A17zddC0n2YLpEX9PAlT77ahXQ/w480-h640/IMG_5135.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">One can probably climb the North Chimney in the dead summer and feel fairly comfortable. It was a seasonably warm day in the desert, but I stayed cold as I belayed Ben up the pitch. </div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtglcp7-56H9lmcYRCiOMPiDkEoAiDTqL2Bqcw_mfSA8pQ7CR_jhYyi2O9tNOEGHQ5Syg8DEvxjBRoS6uiqQ_2GZCTvAUXf2oSD3tOY2Ljdju2FMriuktfJDOV0c6XUi3ydTnOmrJwXRRQUpzex4aJga90InkMrJxj3ijA1mUZRGi9e27piD_g7kux9A/s3088/IMG_4923.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtglcp7-56H9lmcYRCiOMPiDkEoAiDTqL2Bqcw_mfSA8pQ7CR_jhYyi2O9tNOEGHQ5Syg8DEvxjBRoS6uiqQ_2GZCTvAUXf2oSD3tOY2Ljdju2FMriuktfJDOV0c6XUi3ydTnOmrJwXRRQUpzex4aJga90InkMrJxj3ijA1mUZRGi9e27piD_g7kux9A/w480-h640/IMG_4923.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Ben took the last two pitches, linking them together. The third pitch starts with some attention-grabbing stem moves off of the belay and then eases up once you exit the chimney and into a gulley with easier climbing. However, this gulley is terrifying because it's filled with evidently loose blocks. </div><div><br /></div><div>The fourth pitch is very short but offers some interesting face climbing to the summit. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzSVdQM6oPIP_22TeOY9mjMW46xwiCUGjtSs0BkraDWL51Wy9mutzKT2mnFuFJhkZZ0DVQAAwD3E0Yg2rR3LNOCu2lkCcF33pjcAUWHhviHbdDouTL7qABEaOqE5tPDoW-gJSQoP-qxEPNHiBPBUC28skU4FP-fckI4vDQCaLqiIqut1W__-hZoREC4g/s4032/IMG_5139.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzSVdQM6oPIP_22TeOY9mjMW46xwiCUGjtSs0BkraDWL51Wy9mutzKT2mnFuFJhkZZ0DVQAAwD3E0Yg2rR3LNOCu2lkCcF33pjcAUWHhviHbdDouTL7qABEaOqE5tPDoW-gJSQoP-qxEPNHiBPBUC28skU4FP-fckI4vDQCaLqiIqut1W__-hZoREC4g/w640-h480/IMG_5139.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The summit super impressive! I don't think I've ever been on top of a formation with sheer 360 degree views. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkRX3bL-Dy8aO3Qogbgighy1eEZZIVxilKYxcKoCL4HXPDYkPoZAZXHC0bbiB1SMlpFRqjHWQdUNemGhOWkW7lK0Oh7MhkvWvvLGgbFzxTRIipWUZmo4Jy-ohxT1Xmvkygxfvd6cC9NfMOXW2mq4lgcjqT4P2WLMABB1m1uY0U78EQyqD75eoh0pZkew/s4032/IMG_5142.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkRX3bL-Dy8aO3Qogbgighy1eEZZIVxilKYxcKoCL4HXPDYkPoZAZXHC0bbiB1SMlpFRqjHWQdUNemGhOWkW7lK0Oh7MhkvWvvLGgbFzxTRIipWUZmo4Jy-ohxT1Xmvkygxfvd6cC9NfMOXW2mq4lgcjqT4P2WLMABB1m1uY0U78EQyqD75eoh0pZkew/w640-h480/IMG_5142.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisvAOqYEeJGX6aTHSATyA8YkonlHLagr4TJrN96yjY7TgT9p0jN8o_DEWW0xvWwTaC2BX6-sdndeIR8iBG-4q2FpiaXAmR3Avy_GsMwTM-uBj0VfNOIb6FVik72HVPoOt1AKXTRxM5dpsDzjncLFW-V2c5M-1BCr4E7hwY2fJS8oSdaqi2ZlSTC7pbVA/s4032/IMG_5145.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisvAOqYEeJGX6aTHSATyA8YkonlHLagr4TJrN96yjY7TgT9p0jN8o_DEWW0xvWwTaC2BX6-sdndeIR8iBG-4q2FpiaXAmR3Avy_GsMwTM-uBj0VfNOIb6FVik72HVPoOt1AKXTRxM5dpsDzjncLFW-V2c5M-1BCr4E7hwY2fJS8oSdaqi2ZlSTC7pbVA/w640-h480/IMG_5145.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipGey-mTMFc9sBByYvgbkttWheMPim-wJvVGdBVDZp4t5Dwugnar1ivYS4VVQIOCjt6ihaZ5EW6h07QwRh6hNtxt75flev5OrDhX0n67BWqlvb9C5ZEIsXwzYpF16Ds3VQiMv4DAsKuzl_-ch-teZ57x7jnpWIW9PEgjlxyI9BAhuHp0pQdHZ_MysEMA/s4032/IMG_5148.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipGey-mTMFc9sBByYvgbkttWheMPim-wJvVGdBVDZp4t5Dwugnar1ivYS4VVQIOCjt6ihaZ5EW6h07QwRh6hNtxt75flev5OrDhX0n67BWqlvb9C5ZEIsXwzYpF16Ds3VQiMv4DAsKuzl_-ch-teZ57x7jnpWIW9PEgjlxyI9BAhuHp0pQdHZ_MysEMA/w480-h640/IMG_5148.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>We hung out at the top of the summit for a bit and enjoyed rifling through the summit register, which is a bit of a freak scene. </div><div><br /></div><div>We decided to rap the North Face, which had one of the scarier rappels I've ever done. It's a sheer drop with lots of exposure, and the fact that you kind of need to just commit and fall back into your rappel rig is a bit puckering. Luckily there's a tiny ledge for your feet that you can down mantle to and gather your bearings. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihkBam0HUW9XZgw-jdYldZdT9Xz5EbR9JC15oN4v-UfCRTLL-anO3z3Kkt4TtxuD0b08sI9qduPUNpBBvKdWT6dKDMPCDwcc1wd2bNxiyiwnovY24jtwpqu1na6x51QskjYDVPE3y1GLPTf2uNggDYPUve831pGYxB74cog_VHfjMtQpvT7uF3auqaiQ/s4032/IMG_5150.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihkBam0HUW9XZgw-jdYldZdT9Xz5EbR9JC15oN4v-UfCRTLL-anO3z3Kkt4TtxuD0b08sI9qduPUNpBBvKdWT6dKDMPCDwcc1wd2bNxiyiwnovY24jtwpqu1na6x51QskjYDVPE3y1GLPTf2uNggDYPUve831pGYxB74cog_VHfjMtQpvT7uF3auqaiQ/w640-h480/IMG_5150.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Luckily we brought two ropes, because one of our ropes got stuck on the first rappel. Weird, because the rap rings are the size of grapefruits.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhqy5K2_fBODncJYSrirQ8yY1dajZETy-Xx32ZbbxYG5-WFd9bBvEr9D7bcWzViV5thmASQqMss8oFBB5YtThTRiqKJOsEbL1drMTd4EgT9NqT0nJzLUsbbtYOG9cUPfjyVL6r6u0i-ljntXPANJH9Br_kS3_4RhrT5f9OWVLj0hqNPPSan1XYpDGmw/s4032/IMG_4935.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhqy5K2_fBODncJYSrirQ8yY1dajZETy-Xx32ZbbxYG5-WFd9bBvEr9D7bcWzViV5thmASQqMss8oFBB5YtThTRiqKJOsEbL1drMTd4EgT9NqT0nJzLUsbbtYOG9cUPfjyVL6r6u0i-ljntXPANJH9Br_kS3_4RhrT5f9OWVLj0hqNPPSan1XYpDGmw/w640-h480/IMG_4935.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>This was Ben's brand spanking new rope that got stuck, so we spent an hour trying to free it but with little luck. We made the final two rappels somewhat defeated. </div><div><br /></div><div>When all was said and done we climbed the tower in around 3 hours. The rappels would have went lightning fast had we not got our rope stuck.</div><div><br /></div><div>Next time I'm in the adventure/alpine climbing mood but the high mountains are shut down with snow, I certainly will consider going down to the desert and checking out more towers. They're adventurous indeed.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY5dqCwFRZvKsxdEtvZ6eULKnwzqJUGt8gwJ7n7HIDY_xdrtFSOto0k6ppxd7J_sRTcih66_9td8k0qEOuRYQ5fAhjA19nN8cGrvP3G0L2b0MHg22uc8rIhFspA8i8C8-qJsVAK4KGXAVsBZ1qX4hIg5urfmJIvrj2EKip2oerXVGQFKMve-yxCYdfSw/s4032/IMG_5151.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY5dqCwFRZvKsxdEtvZ6eULKnwzqJUGt8gwJ7n7HIDY_xdrtFSOto0k6ppxd7J_sRTcih66_9td8k0qEOuRYQ5fAhjA19nN8cGrvP3G0L2b0MHg22uc8rIhFspA8i8C8-qJsVAK4KGXAVsBZ1qX4hIg5urfmJIvrj2EKip2oerXVGQFKMve-yxCYdfSw/w640-h480/IMG_5151.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>As we hiked down the trail, we noticed another party rapping down the North Face. Surprisingly enough they heard our yells from below. They told us that they would be happy to retrieve our rope, which was a super solid move on their part. We were informed that our rope somehow wound itself into a figure-eight on a bight, which then got caught up in one of the rap chains. WTF? I guess we somehow managed to fix our rope from the bottom. Weird stuff. This was a good lesson in bringing two ropes on climbs such as these, because sometimes you just can't help from getting your rope stuck even if you do seemingly everything right.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAcPDFetowgLiSqS93QzzVkP4u7lRkDErv28BliWFacW3gTjw046Y80vGeCQSI3zleHvTlh6LbqlHB__gtzf7QI8xLgD3NZq1JIqejaPPVQ1jajTJQUZUGZto6HA8tTX7BXebnHQDzohTQ18bUMYRb6dsvKB4N0j3d8Fj-P3zlkBkqtQxgR1rOCfWH3g/s3136/IMG_5154.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2352" data-original-width="3136" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAcPDFetowgLiSqS93QzzVkP4u7lRkDErv28BliWFacW3gTjw046Y80vGeCQSI3zleHvTlh6LbqlHB__gtzf7QI8xLgD3NZq1JIqejaPPVQ1jajTJQUZUGZto6HA8tTX7BXebnHQDzohTQ18bUMYRb6dsvKB4N0j3d8Fj-P3zlkBkqtQxgR1rOCfWH3g/w640-h480/IMG_5154.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>The forecast for the next days called for harrowing winds, and while we wanted to climb Lonely Vigil on the Lighthouse Tower, we settled for lowlier pursuits and went bouldering in Big Bend. I managed to get Brown Power on the second go, which gets my vote as the best moderate in the area. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>That day we drove all the way to Joe's. It rained on the drive up, and we hoped it would be dry enough the following morning. That night we drank some beers at the Right Fork campground and enjoyed a beautiful moonrise over the canyon. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thankfully the windy clear night helped the drying process and we spent a few hours in the Mansize area the following morning. I managed to nab a send of Great White, a climb I worked back in October. The key was switching up the beta from a scrunchy toe hook to a powerful dyno, which admittedly is more my style. It paid off! Bouldering in Joe's is thee best.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Z8sSxLuGfVc" width="320" youtube-src-id="Z8sSxLuGfVc"></iframe></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-66360274381405890352021-10-24T08:45:00.004-07:002021-10-24T08:54:05.171-07:00San Rafael Swell Scrambling <p>With injured fingers but with plenty of stoke for rock climbing, Vitor and I headed down to the Swell to tick off some climbs I’ve had my eye on for as long as I’ve known about the area. We left SLC at around 7 Friday night and climbed both climbs within half a day, arriving back in SLC around 7 Saturday night. The rock on 1200’ is laughably bad and there is virtually no way to protect some of the pitches. You can practically see through some of those holds. 1000’ on the other hand has good rock and makes for a great scramble. I’d do it again and probably without a rope, as it seems more like a liability than anything.</p><p><br /></p><p>Anyhow, it was a great 24 hours in the Swell with a good homie. Here’s a video: </p><p><a href="https://youtu.be/LvBJzo5MDyQ">https://youtu.be/LvBJzo5MDyQ</a></p>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-46590115222961966852021-10-19T20:34:00.003-07:002021-10-19T20:34:31.244-07:00First Turns: Main Baldy<p> Well, I went snowboarding tonight, and y'know what? It was pretty good. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhllzhrxAH3fsYoTCsBqWbBvmIKhGGFX5NSpeEM1wfC-jvlZUrzaW6GL9eEI31pJ77UPrbpoyQ4lUHnOhh_uHqBJJ8pMWaTUts6sTcu4jiS0rIv4z7SVmVN8cUnDb3CXC_tM-TBqjKtt2EheIaHqx55uxvgNnmwFwjUl-YGu7UR2ZuD6KwQh66TxlouvQ=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhllzhrxAH3fsYoTCsBqWbBvmIKhGGFX5NSpeEM1wfC-jvlZUrzaW6GL9eEI31pJ77UPrbpoyQ4lUHnOhh_uHqBJJ8pMWaTUts6sTcu4jiS0rIv4z7SVmVN8cUnDb3CXC_tM-TBqjKtt2EheIaHqx55uxvgNnmwFwjUl-YGu7UR2ZuD6KwQh66TxlouvQ=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Lane and I started up from the Alta parking lot in a ping pong ball at around 4 PM with 60 of our best friends. Oh god, another early season tour up Collin's Gulch. How good could this be? Although I had been bouldering like a madman recently, my ambitions had been cut short due to a strained pulley while working a problem in Joe's—my first trip of the supposed 'season.' That put an early end to hard climbing.</p><p>But with several early October storms, I knew the skiing could be decent... and the prospects of sitting around moping and climbing easy stuff in the gym didn't seem that fun. Plus, Lane had been out skiing quite a bit, and he said it was good—though he skis more than anyone I know, and it's tough to fully take his word when he says that there's good skiing to be had. </p><p>On our way up, Lane asked whether we wanted to go for a warmup/schuss lap before hitting Main Baldy. I probably only had one lap in me (my fitness was nonexistent due to said bouldering), so I thought, Nah, let's just go for it. This would be the second year where my first turns of the season were made on one of the classic lines in the revered Chuting Galley. It's fun to try to keep this tradition alive. </p><p>The clouds parted as we climbed, which afforded spectacular, dramatic views down into LCC and beyond. It's rare that we get an 'above the clouds' perspective in the Wasatch. Pictures were taken. Tears were shed.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjDkebOEQ5-nPny9kazH9fK0enTDUb7CoSBHGfTnPzTVAVDfv21IK2kdChBdW0qFZ9DcUQ8VIGfeuaHu_L7TNWSu9FZTNzY7DTS5iTz1FlQSEdh7or-ZVAQ4AKZJmKLvbByAYxfBwQ_E36J_Cp6yf-26b7N-QYev09JFr3zOnQr-NJ2Imf9ri-FjEHf5A=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjDkebOEQ5-nPny9kazH9fK0enTDUb7CoSBHGfTnPzTVAVDfv21IK2kdChBdW0qFZ9DcUQ8VIGfeuaHu_L7TNWSu9FZTNzY7DTS5iTz1FlQSEdh7or-ZVAQ4AKZJmKLvbByAYxfBwQ_E36J_Cp6yf-26b7N-QYev09JFr3zOnQr-NJ2Imf9ri-FjEHf5A=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimM2JecalVRKy6jb7vBHcWBhMXUCoIhURmAkBoJlFCcmqVvbC0sKcyRIPxQne7yyWhJvYXs6Hj9bIWF-R-rAUd_Z1VmkVeWBAZ3XJrpE_Pi__NuH3fCj6OlZB-VVtkoNayOM3VumybJRjxd9P6gjlpb8gOj0YY1P5E8Z9acyXARUd2ZIcezGCypNDNLA=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimM2JecalVRKy6jb7vBHcWBhMXUCoIhURmAkBoJlFCcmqVvbC0sKcyRIPxQne7yyWhJvYXs6Hj9bIWF-R-rAUd_Z1VmkVeWBAZ3XJrpE_Pi__NuH3fCj6OlZB-VVtkoNayOM3VumybJRjxd9P6gjlpb8gOj0YY1P5E8Z9acyXARUd2ZIcezGCypNDNLA=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>We summited (every foot counts when you're working with a spreadsheet!) and skied back down to Main Baldy entrance. Despite my rockboard being fractured width-wise (clinically speaking the board is broken in half), it rode surprisingly well and I was making zippy little hop turns on wind-affected summit snow. Splitboarding is just like riding a bike!</p><p>We had Main Baldy all to ourselves despite the hordes skinning up Collins. As a cherry on top, Lane let me have the first turns. My rockboard inspired confidence. Turns out, it wasn't that boney and there was even some dense powder left over on the flanks of the chute. Yeehaw!</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlGRXF-K02N-TnKrdd34f_ohR27f1wwQEKG1AxWe8W3emwYftXCUQ56Elj-Ky0IoHguOjSgmhtXqAmW5VbayXoz3WYtZ0ZWQ8TCW6NpjRgxBjhTHEyW2TKH2EU9zYQv3gfFU8ffS1L-psy2_9CkDk0I2AxF_mmEL8d60QuPgg2Zjb6RuLAevBNp2y1FA=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlGRXF-K02N-TnKrdd34f_ohR27f1wwQEKG1AxWe8W3emwYftXCUQ56Elj-Ky0IoHguOjSgmhtXqAmW5VbayXoz3WYtZ0ZWQ8TCW6NpjRgxBjhTHEyW2TKH2EU9zYQv3gfFU8ffS1L-psy2_9CkDk0I2AxF_mmEL8d60QuPgg2Zjb6RuLAevBNp2y1FA=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>These were some of the more fun turns I've made this early in the season. Certainly conditions are very good for mid-October. Normally I would lament this early season snow, but with next week's potential weather system, I'm not counting out high north-facing as a powder provider through the early season and into winter proper. </p><p>If it keeps snowing, I think 21/22 will shape up to be a good season in the Wasatch. </p>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-12009046380318533702021-09-19T12:16:00.007-07:002021-09-19T12:18:15.984-07:00Seasonal Transitions Vol. 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHR7LJwQPqrSLoPdFAz7atJoLO9qHBW8PczqcehDIMPXj0a2u6BtcmAFzAtI4NmoFFoCCFnA_SAEGHuzF9chLGWWsbCnldOozyO6VYLaD-2xFXOr_wNon8AxfSnS80Ecdi4CXC4iHjGuQ/s3277/IMG_3233.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1843" data-original-width="3277" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHR7LJwQPqrSLoPdFAz7atJoLO9qHBW8PczqcehDIMPXj0a2u6BtcmAFzAtI4NmoFFoCCFnA_SAEGHuzF9chLGWWsbCnldOozyO6VYLaD-2xFXOr_wNon8AxfSnS80Ecdi4CXC4iHjGuQ/w640-h360/IMG_3233.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>Today I went on a hike in the rain, up White Pine, to retrieve a Wal-Mart sleeping bag that I left on West Pass while I was doing the WURL.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhywI2eitYTToszMkTRJFPrlnh0riYBxZ2tcBrJDKZj5Ia9OekCGaor1JUfjBPBrlMkLgxdyDY4lQjj8FZ8aCALTq8c0q04se2UhGeUW6ZKcfDloQ7FstLiX-tDthBHZn9WgsGG4Xo9_zDM/s4032/IMG_3227.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhywI2eitYTToszMkTRJFPrlnh0riYBxZ2tcBrJDKZj5Ia9OekCGaor1JUfjBPBrlMkLgxdyDY4lQjj8FZ8aCALTq8c0q04se2UhGeUW6ZKcfDloQ7FstLiX-tDthBHZn9WgsGG4Xo9_zDM/w640-h480/IMG_3227.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>The rain came down hard at times and I watched it fall its hardest while standing under the shelter of three pines. I made it to the ridgeline as clouds moved in from the south, making the mountaintop and my surroundings disappear. I found my bag. Turns out snafflehounds (as Lane would say) didn’t eat it. I wouldn't really care if they did, though; I needed a good, cold soaking.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiks4hZQspVoRyxbfY_4syPM6gbJEIetBN_MDQRsAtOB9VaUVYkX3o745KOFZe4sKXr_G_-go6mmxn4-trskTXUTX_jgcBQwTt6C6vdPA5OEkWLhyphenhyphen0yKgGF6EaB-aoUWFU38qnEiUUeU9sc/s3610/IMG_3239.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2031" data-original-width="3610" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiks4hZQspVoRyxbfY_4syPM6gbJEIetBN_MDQRsAtOB9VaUVYkX3o745KOFZe4sKXr_G_-go6mmxn4-trskTXUTX_jgcBQwTt6C6vdPA5OEkWLhyphenhyphen0yKgGF6EaB-aoUWFU38qnEiUUeU9sc/w640-h360/IMG_3239.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>It felt like fall and so I went home and drank beer and tuned my snowboards. I listened to an incredible Warren Zevon album with a bunch of his unreleased tracks and some demos. It’s called ‘Preludes’ and its very, very good. He's most known for 'Werewolves of London,' which is a catchy and fun record, but most of his lesser known songs are beautiful and rather dark. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzBbtDeRYfdnP_HrD9_1jALM7gdo7_qE5Cy71yXFC3kTTs-cj6kdO_z5mA4vvtA8tGaRpo3ezdNo-gyyMgucM5FjU06K7RsNgd5A-jkjWi1G8nLnEsKGku-pT0l8gF4VtMLKyl1pjozh6B/s4032/IMG_3277.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzBbtDeRYfdnP_HrD9_1jALM7gdo7_qE5Cy71yXFC3kTTs-cj6kdO_z5mA4vvtA8tGaRpo3ezdNo-gyyMgucM5FjU06K7RsNgd5A-jkjWi1G8nLnEsKGku-pT0l8gF4VtMLKyl1pjozh6B/w480-h640/IMG_3277.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>I’ve decided that I’m going to ride my Prior split to start off the season. It’s broken. I don’t remember what term the guy at the shop used—something about the wood core snapping in half. Fine. But the edges are still in tact and the board hasn’t fully fallen apart, so a rock board it will be.</p><p>I’m also setting up a park board; my trusty old Ride, the first one I ever owned. The guy who sold it to me let it go for the price of a tattoo ($80). I can’t believe I still have that thing. But here I am, dusting it off and probably setting myself up for a season of soft-tissue injuries. I suppose that's the price I pay for doing tricks. I can't seem to get enough of them, probably because park snowboarding leaves me with the same sense of satisfaction as does skateboarding, and even bouldering to some extent. It's grounding, and afterwards I usually feel better connected with those intangible things like my soul. </p>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-14858439983569790332021-09-06T15:54:00.002-07:002021-09-06T15:54:20.846-07:00An Injury Story<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQM0Nu3CPawu1HSAWNI8qR9DyvOkegJjJ05v5VB_e3Q-uHP9Y8mLr2LKHnsGoQtxcfGJTp7BSoT_XHUYSacinpKc7pr4N6DvQxRbYW9w-rGrxE88C5wjNzD0KKzaehaBRfA_Y-Von8FEOv/s4032/IMG_3171.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQM0Nu3CPawu1HSAWNI8qR9DyvOkegJjJ05v5VB_e3Q-uHP9Y8mLr2LKHnsGoQtxcfGJTp7BSoT_XHUYSacinpKc7pr4N6DvQxRbYW9w-rGrxE88C5wjNzD0KKzaehaBRfA_Y-Von8FEOv/w640-h480/IMG_3171.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><p>I ate a lot of wild raspberries this past weekend. This was unusual for me, as I don't often stop to forage on wild fruits—even in peak season. I'll notice them, feel good about their existence, and continue on. Perhaps I'm jaded from an entire summer of working on a blueberry farm. Or perhaps I'm too "on the go," always heads down ambling toward the day's objective.</p><p>But on this day in the Uintas my knee had been hurting, and as my feet pruned in the cold water cascading through Shingle Creek, these wild raspberries beckoned, almost every one of them ripe, bruised red, and nearly falling from the branch. </p><p>I cleared the whole bush. I even spent time recovering the ones that fell to the ground to hide among tall stalks of meadow grass.</p><p>Now that I think about it... </p><p>When I was a loud and energetic child, I would go to the gigantic berry bush in my family's backyard and pick and eat for a long time. It was probably late summer, and probably before a baseball practice I didn't want to go to. </p><p>And now it's late summer again and I want to go to baseball practice more than anything, but my knee would scream at any hard stop or change in direction. No taking off from home plate nor crashing back into it.</p><p>And so I'm backing off, slowing down and eating wild raspberries.</p>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-53165245251870651302021-08-28T10:42:00.003-07:002021-08-28T13:26:36.517-07:00Irene's Arete<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkJL8AWNOJ7Jm_wS0ZPRdru_Sx9DEz40VH33kZJSzFiiKB9p8t68tP9wyTXrhUoNpIRcStJVC9G8Ku7N3MRlA5Ejx2tjiaw6bO58YjR1bLD2beT-OwbpmSrBVgf3pE8aynYFlxzs0ocKg/s2048/IMG_0033.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkJL8AWNOJ7Jm_wS0ZPRdru_Sx9DEz40VH33kZJSzFiiKB9p8t68tP9wyTXrhUoNpIRcStJVC9G8Ku7N3MRlA5Ejx2tjiaw6bO58YjR1bLD2beT-OwbpmSrBVgf3pE8aynYFlxzs0ocKg/w640-h480/IMG_0033.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><p>In August, the Tetons weigh heavy on my mind. </p><p>My fixation probably began some time around early 2017, when I was finishing up my undergraduate degree in Florida. I discovered the instagram of a fellow named Jimmy Chin (who had <i>only </i>tens of thousands of followers at the time). One of my buddies would go to Jackson regularly, and he talked my ear off about the time his friend took him and his dad up a climb in the Park. I saw a photo of him bearing ropes with the Grand behind him. I thought it looked and sounded so cool. When I moved to Bozeman in 2018, I met Nick, who became my go-to climbing partner that summer. He and I cut our teeth at Practice Rock and in Gallatin Canyon, dialing our multipitch systems and getting into the groove of climbing with eachother. One morning we met for coffee and decided that we wanted to climb something in the Tetons; something fairly straightforward and easy, as both of us had yet to climb anything technical in the Park (I hadn't even visited). We decided on the East Ridge of Disappointment. I remember feeling so anxious in the Lupine Meadows parking lot as I went to sleep that night, waiting for my 4 AM alarm. As the day progressed, it was clear that Nick and I had sufficiently prepared for this climb and we both cruised it. Personally, I felt as though we could've gotten away with something harder, but I've since grown accustomed to the practice of going into mountains, like the Tetons, feeling over-prepared and in control, rather than under-prepared and swimming. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-U5qeeXKrFfQVm3pPZBzOmj9HXEXa4UbaoOf3xpR7xfpH2r-BeMwqZkLFdLQVqLPqtJeu8p8cTpsNLIU7DPUaQy0Kr42G5bU7fJ4UDSzl2U8WD8pe1e2HnNuORSQTn-ErZfhgVovN_0Xt/s3145/IMG_4317.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3145" data-original-width="2357" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-U5qeeXKrFfQVm3pPZBzOmj9HXEXa4UbaoOf3xpR7xfpH2r-BeMwqZkLFdLQVqLPqtJeu8p8cTpsNLIU7DPUaQy0Kr42G5bU7fJ4UDSzl2U8WD8pe1e2HnNuORSQTn-ErZfhgVovN_0Xt/w480-h640/IMG_4317.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Belaying Nick up the last pitch of our first technical Teton climb (E Ridge, Disappointment Pk)</div><p>Over the past couple of years, law school duties and some long-for-me Wind River backpacking trips have kept me out of the Tetons during prime climbing season. I had finished up the WURL in July and, while passing through the Lone Peak Cirque on the egress, I was reminded that there's beautiful rock everywhere in the high country; 'tis the season. </p><p>Evidently, Teton adventures demand lots of respect and I didn't want to go on a climbing mission cold, so I got on rock for the first time of the summer in the lovely City of Rocks, where I felt really good on 5.8 off the couch (Carol's Crack felt way more casual than it did last summer) and managed to one-hang a pretty burly 5.9+ (Z Cracks). Game on.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg51pg6Kqob1w2LYQIkYSltadA2w8rFlGZhhPjjnhbf4YcaUytlv8jSr6CatqkovjvTiId1hIQqG_AjviljoMKk5qx1EcoedwMzIduw0OsyXENKiXauicLpsd3QAeJz1nuk9XPhU_IqWqu7/s938/IMG_2882.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="938" data-original-width="703" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg51pg6Kqob1w2LYQIkYSltadA2w8rFlGZhhPjjnhbf4YcaUytlv8jSr6CatqkovjvTiId1hIQqG_AjviljoMKk5qx1EcoedwMzIduw0OsyXENKiXauicLpsd3QAeJz1nuk9XPhU_IqWqu7/w480-h640/IMG_2882.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Carol Cracks, CoR</div><div><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1s1PaCb7nuPWS4rD-DxzrgH398UqUUcMqeyKA_ULsdT5sJHcS4zE8JQJC46MS9uN6ldeNANrirV5w8JvsV4cI-e7yg3khfJsw9Fak74dS_cK4sx4gDqJv-9wURCLwqOYo8L6bb4fJvOpE/s2543/20210801_113150_Original.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2543" data-original-width="1236" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1s1PaCb7nuPWS4rD-DxzrgH398UqUUcMqeyKA_ULsdT5sJHcS4zE8JQJC46MS9uN6ldeNANrirV5w8JvsV4cI-e7yg3khfJsw9Fak74dS_cK4sx4gDqJv-9wURCLwqOYo8L6bb4fJvOpE/w312-h640/20210801_113150_Original.jpg" width="312" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Z Cracks, CoR</div><br /><div>I hit Vitor up a few weeks before and he was stoked to climb Irene's. I was happy to have him as a partner—it's been great to live near and climb with Vitor, who is probably the first person to ever tell me what trad climbing is, way back in 2016 at Tallahassee Rock Gym.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyhow, we left Ogden at around 4:30 PM to some of the gnarliest smoke I've seen this summer. The drive felt apocalyptic, especially as night fell over the Star Valley. I hoped that the smoke wouldn't be as bad in Jackson Hole...</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzMi-lI-g6acDoGNIxcMCXpfsvHO-eqATnJv-hk4_rDW1miPg_mX5Tajil5ebLx2fGOHa3wu_hXHUM2WH9pnjYHoQXEaL10oEMINvlahY7x6EFVwmrv1YkRFho4ZGQVFvBFATt3IgYiDL8/s2048/9F501204-5BD8-4B52-B233-1F144BF2A06C.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzMi-lI-g6acDoGNIxcMCXpfsvHO-eqATnJv-hk4_rDW1miPg_mX5Tajil5ebLx2fGOHa3wu_hXHUM2WH9pnjYHoQXEaL10oEMINvlahY7x6EFVwmrv1YkRFho4ZGQVFvBFATt3IgYiDL8/w640-h480/9F501204-5BD8-4B52-B233-1F144BF2A06C.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Malad rest stop, with ugly, thick smoke filling the sky</div><div><br /></div>We arrived at the Lupine Meadows trailhead shortly before midnight and found Nick in his rat-mobile with his headlamp on, probably pawing through the guidebook. That's another thing: Nick and our buddy Jake had planned to climb the same route that Saturday morning. It would be all the fun of a party of four, without the rope faff and logistics associated with climbing a route with a party of that size.<div><br /></div><div>The Lupine Meadows overnight scene is turning into a bit of a zoo, as cars and climbers file in through all hours of the night. Luckily I had brought some earplugs and a buff to cover my eyes...</div><div><br /></div><div>The alarm sounded at 4:30 AM. I sucked down some cold brew, ate some Aussie bites, and we were off to the races, making good time to the Meadows in 2:00, where we filled our bladders before heading up to the base of Irene's. There's a lot of attractive spires shooting out of Garnet Canyon's north side, so make sure you've got good photos of Irene's before you pick the one to amble towards. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0C53vuYdxh9kajF9ZgkswNEy6_-Y2G61aJfk2z1PqjgidNyBzyFC4uBlna4LriKTIjoy-aQGLzmhClsXyFHmsbIKZB-zQ9lnA9oC3K8nvEm_gc6WHq3aeHAxbGmVdRTz_PnBqjj7NYvRA/s2048/PXL_20210807_130045300.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0C53vuYdxh9kajF9ZgkswNEy6_-Y2G61aJfk2z1PqjgidNyBzyFC4uBlna4LriKTIjoy-aQGLzmhClsXyFHmsbIKZB-zQ9lnA9oC3K8nvEm_gc6WHq3aeHAxbGmVdRTz_PnBqjj7NYvRA/w480-h640/PXL_20210807_130045300.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Middle Teton from the Meadows, with some dreamy clouds obscuring its summit</div><br /><div>After gaining the Meadows, we stayed on the left side of the creek which required some trivial bushwhacking to put us back on track for Irene's. After some deliberation, we decided to stay low below the treed ledges leading up to Irene's. A faint climbers trail came into sights, and we followed that onto mellow 4th-class terrain with the occasional 4th-classs+ down climb. </div><div><br /></div><div>To our delight, Nick and Jake had only just started up Irene's, as Nick was belaying Jake up the first pitch. This was going to be a really fun day sharing this Teton classic with several friends.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was feeling good and took the first lead. It was cold, and smoke obscured much of the valley below. The first few moves to gain the face felt thin and insecure, and I took more time than I would've liked to commit to the face and start moving. Teton rock is pretty unusual, and the first pitches flaring grooves with cryptic protection took some getting used to. Once I had a few pieces of gear in, I felt better and moved quickly to the belay station. The sun broke through the smoke and clouds, I removed a layer, and belayed Vitor up to me.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHE-acJ9B6PgN2ZjfDMGxX5g5g9Wxc83PW8lpFVXIxgM3vatX7vgsR4hMiAfIF1mv1rtHwTOzUJSrwDYtRh-RcHKXICPVJq7gtR8MI8qdDrpPDJ7v5aJYVu05MVcjiD8zHbi61b7qz0KyZ/s2048/E18C243D-D23B-4B9A-8A1D-F0C8C6C3AF41.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHE-acJ9B6PgN2ZjfDMGxX5g5g9Wxc83PW8lpFVXIxgM3vatX7vgsR4hMiAfIF1mv1rtHwTOzUJSrwDYtRh-RcHKXICPVJq7gtR8MI8qdDrpPDJ7v5aJYVu05MVcjiD8zHbi61b7qz0KyZ/w480-h640/E18C243D-D23B-4B9A-8A1D-F0C8C6C3AF41.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Vitor following P1</div><br /><div>It was a blast to share the comfy belay ledges with Nick, Vitor, and Jake, as we all bantered and talked a bunch of crap about whomever was leading. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ2K79IDhyphenhyphenQQElLKVHgAPJO3j1bT9BJJTfVUaUr7T0bcXP7opdKQFA6XAO9rn1novGBUBadwLeFIKqXHrpCl2sTukosEi3e5Eipy6NHRqj9iw3dzMFtTZYi8WWukaHvANB229be-nvYe9p/s4032/IMG_2937.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ2K79IDhyphenhyphenQQElLKVHgAPJO3j1bT9BJJTfVUaUr7T0bcXP7opdKQFA6XAO9rn1novGBUBadwLeFIKqXHrpCl2sTukosEi3e5Eipy6NHRqj9iw3dzMFtTZYi8WWukaHvANB229be-nvYe9p/w640-h480/IMG_2937.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Vitor putting on his game face for the next lead, with the Cloudveil and Nez Perce in the background</div><br /><div><div>Soon enough, Vitor headed up the 2nd pitch, which I thought had one distinct section of full-value 5.8. Get ready for a steep finger crack with some awkward bear hugging. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was becoming clear to me that my 45+L Cilogear pack was just too big a pack for the job. I kept adjusting the shoulder straps—they either felt too tight, restricting motion, or too loose, throwing my pack weight all over the place as I pulled some delicate moves. Plus, I think it was one of those situations where my larger volume pack allowed me to pack more than I needed. Oh well. </div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWG-aSAB1-lQKWZJPgkSJaetRysoEa26dhD7_-JLD9hjdB_MIwX3YcgsMuYkX3BZtVRB2bTfX0qiV4Et_NzINrRFeteKY2jcarh8mk7rbPDj2fSDYJl7ogZyZOPEYZx9DiGM6CbIFwmzNv/s2048/IMG_2938.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWG-aSAB1-lQKWZJPgkSJaetRysoEa26dhD7_-JLD9hjdB_MIwX3YcgsMuYkX3BZtVRB2bTfX0qiV4Et_NzINrRFeteKY2jcarh8mk7rbPDj2fSDYJl7ogZyZOPEYZx9DiGM6CbIFwmzNv/w640-h480/IMG_2938.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Jake following Nick's lead, on the tricky section of P2</div><br /><div>I led P3, which required starting off on the left side of the arete with marginal gear, and then pulling somewhat of a delicate and committing step onto the right side of the arete. I plugged some mental pro, did a little do-si-do onto the face, and got a nice .75 a little bit higher. Ahh. The rest of the climbing on P3 was super fun 5.7 climbing up a left-facing with dihedral with several cracks to choose from. This was probably my favorite section of the climb: easy and well-protected, but interesting enough to feel engaging.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikhwlaluvJrrX_FM3uR-y-Dmea5vsusl8ns2TizYAiIS-XjnP8YzBQ3YDKJbMn8ujZoMGTAno4aeiuvefd1bumfc1H9t_W4I8sQ8KGF48_ZSh3HlOFeRPnfKkRTsRKRth0eH_sWqyvruo0/s2048/IMG_0044.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikhwlaluvJrrX_FM3uR-y-Dmea5vsusl8ns2TizYAiIS-XjnP8YzBQ3YDKJbMn8ujZoMGTAno4aeiuvefd1bumfc1H9t_W4I8sQ8KGF48_ZSh3HlOFeRPnfKkRTsRKRth0eH_sWqyvruo0/w640-h480/IMG_0044.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Pulling the corner on P3. Don't blow it here. A great pitch. The left-facing dihedral seen above me (black rock) was a blast.</div><br /><div>About 3/4 of the way up P3, rope drag became quite bad (in hindsight, I should've continued up the right side of the arete rather than sneaking around to the left), so I set up and intermediate belay station and belayed Vitor up. He finished on the short section of rock to the base of P4, where we waited for quite a while due to some route finding issues. Good on Nick for putting down that harder P4 variation though! Don't go too far right on this pitch, apparently. </div><div><br /></div><div>From here, Vitor led up to a committing and thin move off of the deck on the left. Apparently, he also got off route (went too far left) and ended up on some pretty hard mid-5.10 climbing, so it took him a while too. We couldn't communicate with eachother once he pulled around the left side of the arete and this was a bit frustrating. I'll probably bring a pair of walkies on a climb like this next time. I followed his lead, which was pumpy hands/thin hands on slightly overhanging terrain with terrible feet. Nice work, Vitor!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi235dV789gZLBv_kBWx0_7UqzrhyphenhyphenNMBARLECTf1TbI4EG5HrUF30Pw9uNEKF3Ge1M0Ir2jdCBCInTpFrwZEatrtTAf1kLpEDGs-D-8VRuFEmudlo9nDz4wQX_dvvhKfWlrGaXLz6yW-nRY/s2048/IMG_0052.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi235dV789gZLBv_kBWx0_7UqzrhyphenhyphenNMBARLECTf1TbI4EG5HrUF30Pw9uNEKF3Ge1M0Ir2jdCBCInTpFrwZEatrtTAf1kLpEDGs-D-8VRuFEmudlo9nDz4wQX_dvvhKfWlrGaXLz6yW-nRY/w480-h640/IMG_0052.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Following some steep and pumpy moves on Vitor's P4 alternate</div><br /><div>I had planned to climb the original P5 (5.7), but the 5.9 stem variation was calling Vitor's name, so I gave it to him. This is a sweet section of rock, with great protection and slightly polished rock. It's not very sustained and feels more like a boulder problem because you top out of the 5.9 section with a mantel on a large ledge.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkC_t1cY_iIIAFPbtnRC-UqUmWG7HuFMHFHoIklTc_1iMidoKrNO0zENXPpfP7g80hPbYbP0xxTMAgbuLgBrD5foq2JVrCSqPA7ypBN40Id4dX0FbBdg5QiDbw6CtRdhTM3jmmCoersfDu/s2048/56694D55-DF00-4453-AC9B-E5159E22A4FF.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkC_t1cY_iIIAFPbtnRC-UqUmWG7HuFMHFHoIklTc_1iMidoKrNO0zENXPpfP7g80hPbYbP0xxTMAgbuLgBrD5foq2JVrCSqPA7ypBN40Id4dX0FbBdg5QiDbw6CtRdhTM3jmmCoersfDu/w480-h640/56694D55-DF00-4453-AC9B-E5159E22A4FF.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The P5 5.9 stem variation is a must-do for the leader feeling comfortable at the grade</div><div><br /></div>Vitor gained the knife edge and belayed me up. The sustained climbing was over (so we thought), and it looked like some weather was coming in, so we were glad to have most of the climb behind us. <div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrOx6IaEJlRzhK2Ae3D2gwXVorP__KhLTaH3BGLyHGEgvQ_Jmd0XG43k7oiGRlp2jOeM6xsDWTkyjQcdOx94h4Tko-cQqkWCip51MeERH97JxSbAHxpUHXUBCdnCaF7XvoY8VN2mtpG2uC/s2048/IMG_0059.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrOx6IaEJlRzhK2Ae3D2gwXVorP__KhLTaH3BGLyHGEgvQ_Jmd0XG43k7oiGRlp2jOeM6xsDWTkyjQcdOx94h4Tko-cQqkWCip51MeERH97JxSbAHxpUHXUBCdnCaF7XvoY8VN2mtpG2uC/w480-h640/IMG_0059.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">P5's knife-edge section offered very casual climbing with perhaps one of the best positions on the entire climb</div><br /><div>I solo'd down P6 to the large, grassy notch in the ridge and saw Jake belaying Nick up a pitch that looked quite hard. Uh oh. Wasn't this supposed to be easy 5.5–5.7?</div><div><br /></div><div>The easier climbing on P7 was really hard to find (at least it was for us), so our options were the 5.10 finish or the greasy "5.8+" Vedauwoo-style fist crack. I wasn't up for leading 5.10 in the Tetons, so I reluctantly started up the fist crack. After plugging a few cams and climbing like a garbageman, I down climbed and told Vitor that either we would have to find some easier terrain, or he would have to take this lead. Vitor was apparently feeling strong, so he took the lead once again and thrutched up the fist-crack. Thanks, Vitor! I felt this was properly strenuous climbing (probably the hardest on the route), and I'm curious to know where the easier climbing is located. </div><div><br /></div><div>In any event, Vitor arrived at the top of P7, belayed me up, and I passed him and remained tied in, but solo'd the rest of the climb to where it levels out with the Disappointment plateau. We'd completed the climb, with two of our homies to boot! Summit bubbles to celebrate. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Q-5s340NKuw" width="320" youtube-src-id="Q-5s340NKuw"></iframe></div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwiJq4isUhFz6hqe-JAAUUuq89qNChalQNPz12J-UO8dCgCkmKTeagR0Wwto3CFslj2aO2tVJhFq12qlXN-AjaIcqmzZ2zNEb4kdHdyPB5K3e0n0wjZ0geGqLpd3inQd6alX49EkTH7meF/s2048/FF2FA4BE-D0F8-4FC5-BDA3-AF152B4E165C.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwiJq4isUhFz6hqe-JAAUUuq89qNChalQNPz12J-UO8dCgCkmKTeagR0Wwto3CFslj2aO2tVJhFq12qlXN-AjaIcqmzZ2zNEb4kdHdyPB5K3e0n0wjZ0geGqLpd3inQd6alX49EkTH7meF/w640-h480/FF2FA4BE-D0F8-4FC5-BDA3-AF152B4E165C.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwhjrZJlYZWg3ukp5gO8ppaArTInheCTBt_SZFpoRh2cXqeKDTIhfvnFn5oeIy5j88tldUJxAXJO4c-d0SGJWgSXu1_4wbRJaI3ir7rlRRd26G7ZJyj64Btrz-n52p2ou-gDqVR1d1P5Q5/s2048/C76A3736-D707-403B-9C5C-06BD16DB2914.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwhjrZJlYZWg3ukp5gO8ppaArTInheCTBt_SZFpoRh2cXqeKDTIhfvnFn5oeIy5j88tldUJxAXJO4c-d0SGJWgSXu1_4wbRJaI3ir7rlRRd26G7ZJyj64Btrz-n52p2ou-gDqVR1d1P5Q5/w480-h640/C76A3736-D707-403B-9C5C-06BD16DB2914.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Vitor Chies, the MVP of the day</div><div><div><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIfSWsiy0aOYoVSgaFTp8VCv4sSIn8WrfPcibmoL3nJi-KBs6BUPta5XXpr42xn_G7LBtdRMu3U8EiDMlThowH-lKnj9ckNFmTL1z3bDdlh7_ShDuVsao621jDHx5U6KFFLo2LQaTJw08H/s2048/PXL_20210807_233249569.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIfSWsiy0aOYoVSgaFTp8VCv4sSIn8WrfPcibmoL3nJi-KBs6BUPta5XXpr42xn_G7LBtdRMu3U8EiDMlThowH-lKnj9ckNFmTL1z3bDdlh7_ShDuVsao621jDHx5U6KFFLo2LQaTJw08H/w640-h480/PXL_20210807_233249569.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I remember this descent...</div><div><br /></div><div>We opted against topping out on Disappointment Peak proper because of some thick clouds that looked like they were about 1,500-2,000ft overhead and approaching from the west. </div><div><br /></div><div>Not sure what the official name of our descent was, but we headed SE off of the summit plateau (it was called the Disappointment Peak Trail on Gaia), and did some 4th-class down climbing to a hole in the slope that required some goofy squeeze moves.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_9we7OV3WB3tAW_iJX2lMi8CrrnjocL1iWWW9eoZjWkP5MwmnmGGKF0Sh2nLLxB752o6pqpeW-haGprM_AAPbcD2R6BUSxeRGWB3z0YfTpPrHpi9OXI7HBPXdbFBcafQyXjmGbr4hBfd3/s2048/IMG_0066.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_9we7OV3WB3tAW_iJX2lMi8CrrnjocL1iWWW9eoZjWkP5MwmnmGGKF0Sh2nLLxB752o6pqpeW-haGprM_AAPbcD2R6BUSxeRGWB3z0YfTpPrHpi9OXI7HBPXdbFBcafQyXjmGbr4hBfd3/w640-h480/IMG_0066.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Nick in the dignity crux of the day</div><div><br /></div>We saw a few black bears on the trail and I really wished I had brought bear spray. Luckily, Nick dates a forest service ranger who specializes in telling people to be smarter in bear country (sorry, Casey!), so he typically has a can (sorry, Nick!). <div><br /></div><div>We prayed to sweet baby Jesus that an eatery in Jackson would be open by the time we arrived back in town. Luckily, Snake River Brewing was open, so we gorged on fried food, drank a lot of beer, and watched a woefully unsatisfied Jake dip his fries into the brewery's version of fry sauce (some fancy Jackson-like aioli with sage or something).</div><div><br /></div><div>All in all, the adventure took us something like 14.5 hours. We moved at a steady pace, and if any of us go back to Irene's, we definitely would shave off the time we spent figuring out the approach and some of the variations. </div><div><br /></div><div>Stats:</div><div>- 15.6 mi</div><div>- 4,110 ft</div><div>- Climbing difficulty: 5.10 C0 (w/ hard P4 alternate)</div><div>- Way too much food</div><div>- 1.5L of water (only drank about .5 on the climb</div><div>- Elapsed time: 14.5 hrs</div><div><br /></div><div>Thoughts:</div><div>- 5.8 in the Tetons definitely feels harder than 5.8 cragging. Not sure if it's the uniqueness of Teton rock, the austere setting, or the fact that I'm miles away from the trailhead. Probably a combination of those things. It could also be the heavier-than-necessary pack I carried. It's not the easiest thing to execute polished 5.9 moves while also trying to adjust your pack straps. </div><div>- The window for high-elevation climbing in the Tetons is pretty small—though this year a very hot and dry summer opened that window well into July... As such, any climb I get to complete in the Tetons is one to be cherished. I probably have only so many of them in my lifetime... </div><div>- I'm satisfied that I was able to get up this route while having only one weekend of cragging behind me. I think my scrambling throughout the early summer increased my confidence moving quickly over easier terrain. With these bigger routes in the alpine, it seems that confidence begets a lot of advantages, the main one being comfort on harder-to-protect rock (of which there is plenty on this route). I'm not sure if I'll ever muster the necessary enthusiasm or motivation to climb harder/more sustained routes in the Tetons, but I feel good knowing that I can get a classic moderate such as Irene’s and feel comfortable. When I got into trad climbing a few years ago, I said that I would automatically position myself into the "moderate trad-dad" stereotype, and I feel like I am there. Indeed, I am most fulfilled when climbing long, moderate routes in stellar settings such as Garnet Canyon.</div>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-88608330049386728722021-08-18T09:42:00.003-07:002021-08-18T13:05:03.184-07:00July 2021 Meditations<p>Why do I keep this blog? The tagline is that it's my account for high country travel. Sure, but I could do that all the same in a notebook that lives in my nightstand. </p><p>And for whom do I keep these reports? Is it for me? For the anonymous beta-seekers? For family?</p><p>I don't really know. What I do know is that I like to write, and sometimes I <i>need</i> to write. And I don't care if anyone reads any of this, as much as I imagine (and even hope) people do. </p><p>And here's another thing: I think things happening in my life outside of the high country are important to and worth writing about. But they're probably less fun to read. Fine. </p><p>Anyhow, July was fucking awesome because I did a hard thing and then did a not so hard thing when I traveled back East and relaxed, no, melted, melted hard. Like, really hard. Like, drink expensive beers on a beach with my brothers and my girlfriend and watch big weather move over the Cape Cod bay while admiring the incoming tide, how it's controlled by the moon and how it inched toward our feet and made everything feel cool and wet and distinctly North Atlantic. In Utah, I can't keep a shirt wet if I want to and the opposite is true in the Cape—even if that shirt is hanging on a clothesline in the sun for an entire day.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRn49MIgffC1j9UTLHVWBmmmHymTaAjVBo__1oBodXIksfhaXeodh0EpUEM9fUDG_ySiGsLZEn3eW9S5Ew2O1XEFfDbINacsKizfj8kxHrI-mYgy1cof9YzIbSZbOdDPte16-OTNe3jZ7k/s3677/IMG_2804.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2068" data-original-width="3677" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRn49MIgffC1j9UTLHVWBmmmHymTaAjVBo__1oBodXIksfhaXeodh0EpUEM9fUDG_ySiGsLZEn3eW9S5Ew2O1XEFfDbINacsKizfj8kxHrI-mYgy1cof9YzIbSZbOdDPte16-OTNe3jZ7k/w640-h360/IMG_2804.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><p>There's a place in Dennis Port near my granny's cottage that we would walk to, a jetty, past the private beaches and to the fisherman (whom I've never seen catch a fish, ever) balancing on the weathered rocks and throwing chum into the sea. My Pops liked it there and fished there, too, and I never did see him catch a fish either, but one time when the tide was low and the sky dark with cumulonimbus clouds we walked along the jetty in ankle deep water into which he sunk his hand and picked out a fat brown crab, which pinched him and made him bleed. The blood was deep red and dripped into the water and I thought my Pops was brave and stoic as he held onto the crab and made me look at it. It moved and wriggled and I looked at its beady black eyes and wanted nothing to do with it. My Pops died some time in 2020 but never had a funeral nor a memorial service due in part to the pandemic, but that summer my brothers and I brought his ashes to Dennis Port and to the jetty and, as my granny and parents watched, threw handfuls of them into the cracks of the slippery rocks and some of mine picked up with the wind and blew into Eddie's thick black hair, as he was downwind of me and having his little goodbye Pops moment. </p><p>This summer Libby, Mick and I returned to the jetty at high tide and watched those fat brown crabs float in the current close to the jetty walls. It was hard to tell whether they were fishing or simply getting sucked up and carried in the current out of control. They floated like ghosts below the surface and disappeared in and out of the murky water. We dove in with them and floated on our backs like otters, letting the tide carry us inland until we reached the only flat rock far inside the jetty that lacked scores of skin-thrashing barnacles.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDp77YwsuuT5LrcPM3ePO6H6ngyWQeDRm_NtNMkXL8uCJCwatWygbO6JUMGpGbg5Bg0rcA-aJ2bnSnXVQ4BL2jMRniSbHlIeGE0iliViCa3ULYC1ZFpni_RaqY73zNR6zTmS7QDCYnd_N3/s4032/IMG_2827.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDp77YwsuuT5LrcPM3ePO6H6ngyWQeDRm_NtNMkXL8uCJCwatWygbO6JUMGpGbg5Bg0rcA-aJ2bnSnXVQ4BL2jMRniSbHlIeGE0iliViCa3ULYC1ZFpni_RaqY73zNR6zTmS7QDCYnd_N3/w640-h480/IMG_2827.HEIC" width="640" /></a></p><p>Every summer I have to visit Provincetown, which is an unabashedly queer place and I love that, and I really wanted Libby to love it, too (and I think she did). Maybe some time in 2015 I was there with friends and it was Bear Week and I thought, "Wow, there are a lot of big, hairy gay men all around me and I don't know if I'm supposed to feel uncomfortable," really feeling mostly comfortable but only slightly discomforted by the fact that I was a supposedly straight man surrounded by my supposedly straight friends who probably thought that I felt uncomfortable, because that was what they felt in that moment too. One night, we were deliberating whether to visit this basement bar and had some heteronormative conversation about whether it was actually a gay bar, and whether it would be alright for us supposedly straight men to enter. Somebody overheard our conversation and remarked, coolly, "It's a fuckin' gay bar," and walked right in. We went elsewhere, probably because we didn't want to come across as gay. </p><p>But this time around, Libby and I visited a queer gallery right when we got into town, and there was a blown up image of a big, hairy bear butt. It was right there on the main level directly across from the entrance, greeting me like a welcome mat. It wasn't what I'd call Great Art, but at least it conveyed to me a message. What was it? Get comfortable or get over it. </p><p>We continued throughout the gallery, past other large pictures of bear butts, and then walked down Commercial Street, seeing mostly men. I suppose it's still a man's world, even when you're queer. </p><p>And then there's Commercial Street with all of its quiet side streets and cute Victorian townhomes with inviting porches and steel spiral staircases and window tchotchkes that make me feel this powerful, forward-looking form of nostalgia—I believe it's referred to as "saudade" in Portuguese. There's only a few places that make me feel such a way; Provincetown being one of them, Greenwich Village being another, and El Carmen in Valencia the last that comes to mind.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp40lWtwYnaA4NKWpn1VZUnSlPTcwXx4jvcoJznHhN0qGqwNfCxZZVTPAfE5qrB3oboIJXk3Pq26iu4iPYiWS_qvTLwx5GjuXFZTFNm3pTd2Y20b631ZWUtAXROeIO8-A5sfhHuxa0VIjc/s4032/IMG_2793.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp40lWtwYnaA4NKWpn1VZUnSlPTcwXx4jvcoJznHhN0qGqwNfCxZZVTPAfE5qrB3oboIJXk3Pq26iu4iPYiWS_qvTLwx5GjuXFZTFNm3pTd2Y20b631ZWUtAXROeIO8-A5sfhHuxa0VIjc/w480-h640/IMG_2793.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>One day on a whim Mick and I bought fancy bodyboards and took them to Marconi Beach, where we dodged surf schoolers and other foam-bearing tourists. We were kids again in small waves, thrilled at what the ocean could do. The seals came closer to the shore than I'd ever seen them, giving off an old-can-of-tuna-in-the-sink-type odor. For some reason we always found ourselves on the Atlantic side of the Cape during the late afternoon, when the ranger station closes and most of the beachgoers leave. I thought about how dreamy it would be to visit this seashore in the dead of the winter, when opaque slushy waves peak overhead and the air stings your cheeks. We swam over to a clean-looking spot in the beach break, where knee high sets peeled for fifty or so meters before mushing out above deeper water. We sponged around among a couple of longboarders and one shortboarder with an earring who wasn't really good but somehow rode every wave that came to him. He stood up on his board with a certain rigid grace, his back stiff and erect, his legs locked and angular like a digitized trapezoid, but hey, the kid was catching fucking <i>everything</i>, and I wanted some, too. Days later we'd rent a monstrous plastic longboard and Mick would stand up on the first waves of his life, and I don't know whether I've hooted harder at anything Mick's ever done. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ADsRhmxPB03tlSAQR9u4f43B3J_34axGs0n6TqoS_Hbe88TLV5RYZr-nMJxDHR1HtWsRaDP1KUvgRQpfkwbZaB__W2BHPFsi2osyImgDlNBlNZSH48cb3RBDx2npkX1TqP5ubES5csKH/s4032/IMG_2816.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ADsRhmxPB03tlSAQR9u4f43B3J_34axGs0n6TqoS_Hbe88TLV5RYZr-nMJxDHR1HtWsRaDP1KUvgRQpfkwbZaB__W2BHPFsi2osyImgDlNBlNZSH48cb3RBDx2npkX1TqP5ubES5csKH/w640-h480/IMG_2816.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">I'm convinced that you could put me anywhere in the country and I'd find something fun to do. If you were to put me back within an hour's drive from the coast, I assuredly would become a waterman. Breathing underwater seems like the greatest super power to have. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh35OgC0LoPRe9qyxgpn9a8-fWs1RhRbQ7XP6i0wZQCye0lc-Hx1w5nLbloJt8pB_crgbRmGQ8Ena1QfrycUoVZ2zC1umOIaJ00IFp1125rPfFmUFznU06hh-DUQfPt7x9vYYdb3hDv5Unn/s4032/IMG_2822.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh35OgC0LoPRe9qyxgpn9a8-fWs1RhRbQ7XP6i0wZQCye0lc-Hx1w5nLbloJt8pB_crgbRmGQ8Ena1QfrycUoVZ2zC1umOIaJ00IFp1125rPfFmUFznU06hh-DUQfPt7x9vYYdb3hDv5Unn/w640-h480/IMG_2822.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">One morning when the sun was hot, the wind still, and the water textureless, I had coffee and just started out over the Nantucket Sound. I didn’t feel like there was anything in particular to think about, nor anywhere else I needed to be. It might have been the closest I’ve come to pure contentedness in a long time—perhaps even ever.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQscRF9W5aWa39SLO7U1y4Wb7eaBsB92DsTI-FajSidE75V6K_IsAaZD2FYulDpajtRCEcjNXWxds53UBAvSeG9UE_1NPU03RG_s_LSrJQkP1ncj9xMIftIn9y_M5bFO8Yr3xuEpzjvAsL/s4032/IMG_2830.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQscRF9W5aWa39SLO7U1y4Wb7eaBsB92DsTI-FajSidE75V6K_IsAaZD2FYulDpajtRCEcjNXWxds53UBAvSeG9UE_1NPU03RG_s_LSrJQkP1ncj9xMIftIn9y_M5bFO8Yr3xuEpzjvAsL/w640-h480/IMG_2830.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And then we returned back to the house where I grew up, and I snuck out to to go climbing at one of my favorite spots that overlooks the Naugatuck Valley: the Whitestone Cliffs. I rope solo’d the high quality Dreadlock (5.8) and immediately reinvigorated my excitement for rock climbing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I had a conversation with my brother one time about the Naugatuck River. He's lived in the post-industrial northeast his whole life, and perhaps hasn't developed an appreciation for the idea of a river as the lifeblood of a community. To him, the Naugatuck seems like an afterthought. But I know it could be so much more (it was once host to the southernmost Atlantic salmon migration), and it breaks my heart that people in the area quickly dismiss it as another polluted river with little to offer. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGZUe0H6tvftfh7KCkauHM40Jv3mc7ZhQX4IdCOpdhKHU4XXIGYT6ahs51v_DS-qpVcoOLVV_sQlAKDI3BVW2Tfzy1zGWSaCsTJAnwGtxJKlv0dqPzJ3XnJlNTBbs0ntRYBto5pekA9qg-/s4032/IMG_2831.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGZUe0H6tvftfh7KCkauHM40Jv3mc7ZhQX4IdCOpdhKHU4XXIGYT6ahs51v_DS-qpVcoOLVV_sQlAKDI3BVW2Tfzy1zGWSaCsTJAnwGtxJKlv0dqPzJ3XnJlNTBbs0ntRYBto5pekA9qg-/w640-h480/IMG_2831.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The last day in Connecticut, my dad’s side of the family visited. We all played lots of chess, drank some great New England beers, and hopped around to bluegrass.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And before I was even ready, I found myself back in Utah, land of snow, rock, dust, and dry, dry heat. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">People ask me whether I'll ever return to New England. I usually tell them no, and that there's just too many places to explore here out West to justify returning back to scrappy ol' New England. But then I think of the Naugatuck, the Atlantic, Nonnewaug Falls, and the fifty foot cliffs that I used to amble under when I knew very little about what I could accomplish on ones ten times their size. It's all important and exciting. It's all very, very beautiful. </div>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-5674368803546761612021-07-12T12:17:00.004-07:002021-07-12T13:31:38.467-07:00Wasatch Ultimate Ridge Linkup<p>I knew about the Wasatch Ultimate Ridge Linkup ever since I moved to Salt Lake City in the late summer of 2019. I began "trail running" the year before in Bozeman and very quickly took to the "light & fast" style of alpine and high country travel. As such, the WURL seemed like a logical objective on which to set my sights, and I completed small sections of the route during the next year and a half— either on splitboard or on foot. </p><p>If you live near the Wasatch and spend time in these mountains, then the WURL needs no introduction. This fine ridgeline hosts some of the most magnificent terrain the Central Wasatch, and as Jared Campbell accurately states, the route upon it is obvious and non-contrived. </p><p>Up until my WURL attempt, I had spent time in every drainage in both Big and Little Cottonwood Canyons. Closer to my attempt, I was putting up fast-for-me times on the South Ridge of Superior and logging the occasional 18,000' week of climbing. Moreover, a remote work schedule allowed for maximum flexibility in scheduling. If there was any time to attempt the WURL, it would be July of 2021. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0SOs0ttR74YNon9hzObe6z0tYkQZ2RmwH5PcPbMV_cIWwZgNaf2cMUnjbSAMuXOZscsFF1E_dGmhu0tlOhW6Dh8sUKSwnTpYtWB7zAKyCO0hFIWrR3vZqfc7ouAl8JXenlfxKo29HdB9H/s4032/IMG_2602.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0SOs0ttR74YNon9hzObe6z0tYkQZ2RmwH5PcPbMV_cIWwZgNaf2cMUnjbSAMuXOZscsFF1E_dGmhu0tlOhW6Dh8sUKSwnTpYtWB7zAKyCO0hFIWrR3vZqfc7ouAl8JXenlfxKo29HdB9H/w480-h640/IMG_2602.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">Libby cruising the S Ridge of Superior, which makes for good training for the type of scrambling found on the WURL</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p>And so I committed to giving it a go and practically obsessed over the route and logistics, reading every trip report and harvesting beta from friends who already completed the route. "The MC crux is easy when compared to S Ridge of Superior"... "Take advantage of fresh legs and Albion Basin"... "The Baldys are the crux" ... "The Notch sucks"... Noted. </p><p>I scoped the last section of the route—the Beat Out— a couple weeks prior with Vitor and Lane and felt really good afterwards; like I had more steam in the tank to keep going once the day was over. We spent around 6 hours of moving on the ridgeline proper. Would I have enough steam to theoretically complete that section 5 times back-to-back? I wasn't sure, and that was part of the appeal. </p><p>After a very mellow week of yoga, resting, sleeping, and placing caches, I got into bed at around 8:30 PM on Friday, July 2nd. I wouldn't get to sleep until at least 11:30 PM, but that was okay given I had slept an average of 9.5 hours each night the week before. </p><p>My watch alarm vibrated maddeningly on my wrist, and for a hopeful second I felt that none of this was real and that I could go back to bed. The reality was that the weather was good, the night was calm, and the WURL would be waiting regardless of whether I slept in. I forced down a bagel and some cold brew coffee and was off to Ferguson by 2:30 AM, blasting "John the Fisherman" and getting psyched for the first—and biggest— climb of the day up to Twin. I began walking at 3 AM.</p><p>Ferguson was eery. I clapped loudly as I climbed to alert any large mammals, which were seen quite often near the mouths of the surrounding canyons according to several trustworthy sources. The claps resonated only briefly and were consumed by the dense canopy and towering rock walls of lower Ferguson. These moments were perhaps some of the quietest and most peaceful I've ever experienced this close to the city. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCGG3qlSyaGdKjUXYxyujDxPxjWfCLnCKoMVLw2ecnxCE0FLAPvdCoJ9M13i-INP3Tv1pbxS3XZO7cPYUqPqRZBFwl4sr0uyRJ3nVRfc__J5Lh6Afe1AozIB__W5uGXwHCaQpdBLIRhY__/s4032/IMG_2704.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCGG3qlSyaGdKjUXYxyujDxPxjWfCLnCKoMVLw2ecnxCE0FLAPvdCoJ9M13i-INP3Tv1pbxS3XZO7cPYUqPqRZBFwl4sr0uyRJ3nVRfc__J5Lh6Afe1AozIB__W5uGXwHCaQpdBLIRhY__/w640-h480/IMG_2704.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">Climbing in a dream-like state out of Ferguson with the city lights below</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">I was passed by a very fast duo, one of whom was going for a sub-20 WURL time. One of them asked me if I saw the "cougs" down canyon, just above the rock walls. I had not, and shuddered knowing that such large and dangerous mammals were watching me so closely from above. Before passing, one of them told me they would yell very loudly if they saw any more "cougs" up canyon. I held my breath waiting for their yells, and sure enough they came. I turned the headlamp to high beam mode and minutes later saw several sets of eyes on the peripheries of the upper-Ferguson meadow. I'm no expert, but these looked like deer's eyes. In any event, there were lots of them and I didn't spend much time hanging around to investigate. I continued upwards, cautiously scanning the meadow with my headlamp.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I mostly nailed the climb out of Ferguson except for the last section leading up to the ridgeline, where I went a little far right and was forced onto some bonus ridgeline bw Pk. 9645 and Pk. 10350. It wear near sunrise and I turned my headlamp off. Feeling a bit paranoid, every little rattle and rumble of a loose boulder jolted me into alertness. I was ready to be done with Ferguson and on familiar terrain. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Ambling along the ridgeline above Stairs, I enjoyed a wonderful sunrise that illuminated the drainage's quartzite.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3SS5fMqQ74vKjSxpo1HgFXkoH-cqSrtjv1UOqZ44sRO9N5502cPjA4KiU-Emy2r3NO5ayLoDNRs8QtwU7GdeIEwdnK5xr3thot5Fw8So0UmHwnNpj6AnSYr8uKSmDrzMzQ56Xij40eKq6/s4032/IMG_2705.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3SS5fMqQ74vKjSxpo1HgFXkoH-cqSrtjv1UOqZ44sRO9N5502cPjA4KiU-Emy2r3NO5ayLoDNRs8QtwU7GdeIEwdnK5xr3thot5Fw8So0UmHwnNpj6AnSYr8uKSmDrzMzQ56Xij40eKq6/w640-h480/IMG_2705.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">The climb up to Twin was uneventful. I had been listening to the classic 'Acid Rap' (comfort music) on my way up Twin and believe "Pusha Man" was playing while I topped out. Great energy. I ate some bars, sucked down some water, applied sunscreen, and texted Libby that I would be at the top of Monte Cristo in 4-4.5 hours.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1sGq2fFfWw6KXG-hi-rBIqKb6ZzsYBA6jo7yAJ3jUlsFVlvFDibqp1zIsHrIZQ-LfNyKjycADojj0_LrO3tBSF-LtguLuofO08G_Z57CjgtqM7S9pz8Yg8bVhuiOkR4cr1UxKCY8-p9G1/s3716/IMG_2706.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2787" data-original-width="3716" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1sGq2fFfWw6KXG-hi-rBIqKb6ZzsYBA6jo7yAJ3jUlsFVlvFDibqp1zIsHrIZQ-LfNyKjycADojj0_LrO3tBSF-LtguLuofO08G_Z57CjgtqM7S9pz8Yg8bVhuiOkR4cr1UxKCY8-p9G1/w640-h480/IMG_2706.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">The Cottonwood Ridge Traverse is excellent and makes a fine outing, whether preparing for the WURL or just looking to have a great day on the ridge</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">The Cottonwood Ridge Traverse was a lot of fun and I was in the shade for the first half of it. After Drom, I started to feel the high summer sun's power as it shone from above and reflected from the shiny quartzite. I knew I needed to cool down if I wanted to continue in high spirits. Luckily, I came across a snow patch and filled my bladder and gatorade bottle with snow, as well as my shirt and hat. This was a huge morale booster and I made great time to Pk. 11,033</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9y2_GLntlOX_wkfKDjXuddACjqvkiWTX6tGeJVqZCHy8ymGXR1c6M10y8Eu27S93B8-g6TZUtkDiNV2qu6mgdYb44W5R0_z3cDf8dLYpmxjLJS6v_sI8I87m0JbkmIO-nY3mUO6IRo53m/s4032/IMG_2707.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9y2_GLntlOX_wkfKDjXuddACjqvkiWTX6tGeJVqZCHy8ymGXR1c6M10y8Eu27S93B8-g6TZUtkDiNV2qu6mgdYb44W5R0_z3cDf8dLYpmxjLJS6v_sI8I87m0JbkmIO-nY3mUO6IRo53m/w640-h480/IMG_2707.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Trying not to think too hard about how long it might take me to get all the way over there</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_O2EO6sEevAMWFPMI3MkEYMAn1LzQFAy51f8Y3omSuKAsmpQBLnw4XyXV6Lu2oIgfs0mb-icrwFxO_QiWHcbLAirCozI4MB-EjQ6JgiSCewMeqBLZOdID-4_fYVB8SMF7brSMbXk-MJD/s3534/IMG_2708.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3534" data-original-width="2650" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_O2EO6sEevAMWFPMI3MkEYMAn1LzQFAy51f8Y3omSuKAsmpQBLnw4XyXV6Lu2oIgfs0mb-icrwFxO_QiWHcbLAirCozI4MB-EjQ6JgiSCewMeqBLZOdID-4_fYVB8SMF7brSMbXk-MJD/w480-h640/IMG_2708.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Hot dogs or legs? I wrote the words 'lucky' and 'love' to remind me that attempting the WURL is an act of self-love, and that I'm lucky to temporarily put life on hold and enjoy outings such as these</div><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">I would be onsighting Pk. 11,033 to Monte Cristo (I completed a Twin-11,033 traverse last summer with a Mill B exit). I was nervous about the Monte Cristo "crux," but as it came into my sights, I realized it was very straightforward and I climbed it with ease, hooting and hollering with the exposure. Worrying about this crux took up a bit of a mental energy, and I should have taken friends' words to heart: this is considerably easier than any of the 'crux' moves on the South Ridge of Superior. </p><p style="text-align: left;">I was making great time and topped out on Monte Cristo around 8 hours after I began. I actually beat Libby and Grace to the summit of Superior (they planned on scrambling the South Ridge and bringing me "real" food on the summit). I waited on the summit of Superior for about 20 minutes, sucking down some Gu and applying KT tape on fledgling blisters. Seeing Grace and Libby only boosted my morale. I was feeling amazing, and we all agreed to take a more substantial rest down at my resupply near Cardiff Pass. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-_OZV4MS32CL6BI87M1wqKuolC5NHtf-BflTTWZnBcjdrW0FKUpdalXK7bD8YepCJIaxUTng0CZFqXhrMiH70oL2j63WOIFAYwEX9iDw4LKoGfedOpPFHR0hGXZYuyFhbVfBdhPLMb38D/s4032/IMG_2713.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-_OZV4MS32CL6BI87M1wqKuolC5NHtf-BflTTWZnBcjdrW0FKUpdalXK7bD8YepCJIaxUTng0CZFqXhrMiH70oL2j63WOIFAYwEX9iDw4LKoGfedOpPFHR0hGXZYuyFhbVfBdhPLMb38D/w640-h480/IMG_2713.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Looking forward to the mid-day cruise around Albion Basin</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QRIOmuamgtm1HO7QZb69ujpk-lHINDAnmG0eR2-nhx_vkRyF-XKwrh0wu73q-i3SnMnd2t1RRKxBv819FdMv07dGBVWeHfpTJt1FLOoG98Vv0G_lw8xu1RoIzpObBCfpedjBCfn_UH_i/s4032/IMG_2714.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QRIOmuamgtm1HO7QZb69ujpk-lHINDAnmG0eR2-nhx_vkRyF-XKwrh0wu73q-i3SnMnd2t1RRKxBv819FdMv07dGBVWeHfpTJt1FLOoG98Vv0G_lw8xu1RoIzpObBCfpedjBCfn_UH_i/w640-h480/IMG_2714.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Grace and Libby providing much needed company and hummus</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I stuffed down as much food as I could—mostly junk food and Coca Cola— without getting "full." I said goodbye to Libby and Grace, tackled the small bit of scrambling on Flagstaff, and then cruised up and over each of the smaller summits above Albion Basin. It was comforting to walk along tame terrain in good weather. I relaxed a little, listened to some Office Hours w/ Tim Heidecker, and contemplated my strategy for the impending night. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I enjoyed wildflowers all the way through the Albion Basin section and reveled in the fact that valley temps were likely much hotter. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiep97E2sqrglhDdtY8vzU65xCAA5rQiGKaQEsZ47mhyG8EVVTWGnSef7PKRABtYMdrItSqQzpEGTuV8_K10pBKavJd8vh0JM0KezRo9X9SlWrAF_WIZwLnB5c69txtMOdW8fJTsembTmv/s4032/IMG_2718.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiep97E2sqrglhDdtY8vzU65xCAA5rQiGKaQEsZ47mhyG8EVVTWGnSef7PKRABtYMdrItSqQzpEGTuV8_K10pBKavJd8vh0JM0KezRo9X9SlWrAF_WIZwLnB5c69txtMOdW8fJTsembTmv/w640-h480/IMG_2718.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">All smiles on Wolverine; everything firing right and feeling good</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As I approached the Point Supreme lift, I saw rain clouds boiling overhead and checked the forecast. It looked like a chance of rain about 60 minutes out—just in time for Devil's Castle, which poses some of the more challenging scrambling on the route. I texted Greg who told me about a potential exit right around Devil's Castle East in case the weather turned. I decided I would just take things as they came.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The ridgeline between Point Supreme and Devil's Castle was very annoying and loose, and I was excited to get on the relatively solid rock that Devil's Castle offers ("relative" being the operative word here). I topped out at 5:30, very ahead of schedule and wondering what the heck I would do when the night came and I needed to onsight Bullion Divide, solo and in a presumably exhausted state.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiBG4u7yiZpsLXnHNUIpS2wjeEAECsl5mrnG_3oW_u9wcI-fUgQ0rlmdg_LlpKln5ZP56hTW4e1Zcu3Vg33nl6idvyTr0kIEZjIaDX47c4e-GtDkykyGgrPbsc2kozzTDkfY5q804v1nwM/s4032/IMG_2720.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiBG4u7yiZpsLXnHNUIpS2wjeEAECsl5mrnG_3oW_u9wcI-fUgQ0rlmdg_LlpKln5ZP56hTW4e1Zcu3Vg33nl6idvyTr0kIEZjIaDX47c4e-GtDkykyGgrPbsc2kozzTDkfY5q804v1nwM/w640-h480/IMG_2720.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It seems like Devil's Castle can be casual or less-than-casual depending on how well one nails the route</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sugarloaf and Baldy were easy, and for the first time in the outing, I began to feel some fatigue on the uphills. Before setting out, I made a conservative estimate that I would arrive at Hidden Peak (and my second resupply) at 10 PM. Turns out that was quite conservative as I arrived two and a half hours ahead of schedule (arriving at around 16.5 hours). Along with food and water, I cached a small bivy pad and a cheap Walmart bag up there as a contingency plan. The Summit Lodge, which is located at the top of the tram on Hidden Peak, was open and I drank from the water fountain and washed up a bit in the bathroom. As I tended to blisters and stuffed my face with more junk food, people looked upon me like a vagrant. One asked where I was going and the only honest answer I could give them was "West along the ridgeline until it doesn't make sense anymore." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I made the choice to continue on—no sense in bivying here when there was still daylight and some energy left. I debated on whether I should leave the cumbersome (but compact) Walmart sleeping bag behind at Hidden Peak in favor of my small sit pad and space blanket for when I needed sleep (which I knew would happen; the only question was when and where). I chose to take the sleeping bag, which made the climb up AF Twins quite exhausting. At least there were some goats and a pretty sunset to provide some inspiration.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZLy9MGTw6ljMyocTLhKGgilKhkVo2JM7Ake8yEHvAvxuGY0tVQswoHxxKS0JpKMVKx6SpQisAvzIVqXKE0iSdDFVRgvpk1PB4mYAm73M-7TTuEQnLkjYN5nV13kAWeD8ZP4DtnS4EPOch/s4032/IMG_2725.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZLy9MGTw6ljMyocTLhKGgilKhkVo2JM7Ake8yEHvAvxuGY0tVQswoHxxKS0JpKMVKx6SpQisAvzIVqXKE0iSdDFVRgvpk1PB4mYAm73M-7TTuEQnLkjYN5nV13kAWeD8ZP4DtnS4EPOch/w640-h480/IMG_2725.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Daylight running away from me on AF Twins</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was getting tired, but there was no avoiding that. I made it most of the way down Red Stack before flicking on my headlamp. More than tired, I was stumbly and a bit cloudy of mind. The 3rd cl. trail down Red Stack felt challenging in my exhausted state, and I knew that if I wanted to complete the rest of the route in a safe, conservative style, I would need to stop somewhere and rest. Luckily, I found a bivy platform in between Red Stack and Red Baldy and made a comfortable-ish bed at around 10:15. I set the alarm for 4 AM and pulled my buff over my eyes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf1VyinL5StnXBR_bTMunBK57NkpbmzhFIPFAIFGP5CmVTio3J0WRWcOw6BadPR5vhRzV5hSbxsNrggtTtXsvZrL2Ak5MIsNbb_dW8ZJV-spbgt6kcFjWH13duvBLAXUnn-gpqYF3ri112/s4032/IMG_2728.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf1VyinL5StnXBR_bTMunBK57NkpbmzhFIPFAIFGP5CmVTio3J0WRWcOw6BadPR5vhRzV5hSbxsNrggtTtXsvZrL2Ak5MIsNbb_dW8ZJV-spbgt6kcFjWH13duvBLAXUnn-gpqYF3ri112/w640-h480/IMG_2728.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I couldn't sleep. I was over-caffeinated and mentally stimulated. My mind was in go mode but my body wanted to chill. When I tried to sleep, I saw weird shit behind my closed eyelids. For example, one second I was negotiating a car purchase contract with Pee Wee Herman and the next I was coordinating WURL logistics. My jaw clenched. It took deliberate effort to keep my eyes closed. In between attempts at sleep, I would remove my buff and stare down from my bivy at the city lights. I kept thinking that the longer I lay down, the longer I was prolonging the WURL. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I remember snoring when my alarm sounded at 4 AM, so I probably got some very light sleep. I turned off my alarm and tried regaining some of that sweet, sweet release, which I must have experienced but could not enjoy. I laid around for another hour and a half, then gathered my things, ate some breakfast bars, and was on the move shortly before 6 AM. That bivy was unproductive, and I don't think I got much meaningful rest despite laying around for the better part of 8 hours. Takeaway: if I had to do the WURL again, I'd beg a friend to tackle the night with me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">With the new day came the biggest mental and physical low of the effort. It was difficult to eat and drink, I was going at a tortoise's pace, and I had some gnarly GI issues that required perching over cliffsides in precarious pooping positions. I knew that White Baldy was some of the least enjoyable scrambling on the route, so I had that to look forward to on top of everything else. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_bArjMzavFbCC2MO-sKItBuAihW8pCS6ynD1JR05In9SFap__xhSPnRbiUMwWT-LCmTagsUOsktsNonDFAAe8-TyaCfKZsoupahlMHjvUjZWXbpV75838rra9tLWJpzHv7FLI5wgGQru/s3088/IMG_2729.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_bArjMzavFbCC2MO-sKItBuAihW8pCS6ynD1JR05In9SFap__xhSPnRbiUMwWT-LCmTagsUOsktsNonDFAAe8-TyaCfKZsoupahlMHjvUjZWXbpV75838rra9tLWJpzHv7FLI5wgGQru/w480-h640/IMG_2729.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Very drained on Red Baldy, but I knew that taking this picture would provide some perspective and give me something funny upon which to reflect</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Between Red and White Baldy I ditched the clunky Walmart bag, knowing that I'd need to come back to this hard-to-reach cache some time before the snow falls. Oh well. I still felt wrecked, and I gingerly sipped on some carbonated yerba mate while contemplating the route up White Baldy. I chose a loose but straightforward ascent looker's right, and as these things go, my spirits rose and my energy was restored. I remember reading an Anton Krupicka essay with the overall message something along the lines of "it never always get worse." This was the case here. With a little faith and a 'one foot in front of the other' attitude, I persevered through my low and found myself in cruising mode once again as I reached White Baldy's summit.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPKPVNXkgEC2_-amBN3vGmpbTyqe9VzAotuUV-lly8S1f2dgaBi-Ek31nlxTEqeCuO56F4NIgjlRjsOXnQjPxQydCDX-l_l4ddm5Ib-MeOv6KXCkuOKb3wMbq1UyVzV6rSWy3a0xKrf0bj/s4032/IMG_2732.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPKPVNXkgEC2_-amBN3vGmpbTyqe9VzAotuUV-lly8S1f2dgaBi-Ek31nlxTEqeCuO56F4NIgjlRjsOXnQjPxQydCDX-l_l4ddm5Ib-MeOv6KXCkuOKb3wMbq1UyVzV6rSWy3a0xKrf0bj/w640-h480/IMG_2732.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">All smiles on White Baldy. Compare with the last photo, only hours before</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">White Baldy took forever, and I found myself grateful for it to be over. The final stretch—from Pfieff to Lone— was all familiar and felt like an old friend. I ascended Pfieff with the crowds. It was Sunday and the 4th of July, so that was to be expected. I hung out at my cache for only a short amount of time, selected the foods that would join me to the finish, and drank as much water as I could stomach. Heading up the Pfieff, I chose the rockier section of trail on looker's right. To the left of me a hiker called over and said, "Hey! Have you ever done this before? It's easier over here." It was nice knowing that you could be in the finishing stages of the hardest outing of your life and you'll still have a hiker in a safari hat giving you routefinding pointers.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIgYovE_x0ELNzxuzm28Bk20R_-AIxh9exqsISwCXnEP_72TDK_ZKmA4QQxQCNgQOZf2YdbZovL5mfyluA3yl-CLerYaH-V5wB67m7zOpYami_EZvTjjzqRFyksIc0p-ASfCGtRVIL724Z/s4032/IMG_2735.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIgYovE_x0ELNzxuzm28Bk20R_-AIxh9exqsISwCXnEP_72TDK_ZKmA4QQxQCNgQOZf2YdbZovL5mfyluA3yl-CLerYaH-V5wB67m7zOpYami_EZvTjjzqRFyksIc0p-ASfCGtRVIL724Z/w640-h480/IMG_2735.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Pfieff is stunning and its East Ridge is probably one of my favorite hikes in the Central Wasatch</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was HOT, and there was no breeze whatsoever. The sea of granite upon which I navigated began to feel like a solar cooker, and I couldn't reapply sunscreen fast enough. What's more, I was getting thirsty and every uphill felt laborious. I don't remember South Thunder feeling so tedious when I did the Beat Out a couple of weeks ago. This time, it was plain torture. Bighorn and Lone appeared so close it felt like I could nearly touch them, yet I needed to detour north to tag South Thunder proper. Due to the scorching temps and my waning stoke, I listened to some upbeat music (see: The Black Seeds 'Into the Dojo') and frequently sipped from my bladder hose. This only did so much, and I got a little off route coming down South Thunder which required some backtracking. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The "speed bumps" went surprisingly fast and I was at the base of Bighorn, psyching myself up for the final climb of the day. I was on my last liter of water and I still had Bighorn, Lone, and all of Jacob's Ladder (which I was unsure had adequate water) to tackle. I took some conservative sips, ate a couple of Gu's and bags of chips, and fired off the steep and engaging climb up Bighorn. I think I nailed the descent off of Bighorn as best as one could (something like left-left-right-left-right-right-etc.)—the cairns only helped so much. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This was it—the final climb to Lone, the final peak! I heard some water babbling at the head of one of the drainages on the south side of Lone, and found plenty of snowmelt trickles. I was stoked and took about 15 minutes to re-hydrate and fill my water storage up with cold, clear snow meltwater. Lone was uneventful in the best possible way, and I summited at 4 PM with some other climbers who had been spending the weekend in the Cirque.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDPUNYzlQoYkRbvw5ghcNekuB2oCYWmZo1GQN9SnrKto5unPq_QI2kgl8hyphenhyphenJERynQGpO0KaK66UK9NhIDDv5S9kdOEt6hIJbJ4OixJ0NvZUR8Q1z06OpZNZ-Acn1nVxFQ7SY5n9YQvhWA/s4032/IMG_2736.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDPUNYzlQoYkRbvw5ghcNekuB2oCYWmZo1GQN9SnrKto5unPq_QI2kgl8hyphenhyphenJERynQGpO0KaK66UK9NhIDDv5S9kdOEt6hIJbJ4OixJ0NvZUR8Q1z06OpZNZ-Acn1nVxFQ7SY5n9YQvhWA/w480-h640/IMG_2736.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Was Ferguson yesterday? Last week? In a past life?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I had exited via the Notch and Bells a couple weeks prior, and although the Bells descent was tempting, I did not want to deal with the Notch again so I chose Jacob's Ladder. I asked Libby if she could shuttle my truck to the Jacob's Ladder trailhead, which she so kindly did. Well, sort of. I made a bit of a research SNAFU and failed to discover that Jacob's Ladder TH had been closed, and that parking was a few miles further down canyon at Orson Smith. I wouldn't discover that until nearly at the Jacob's Ladder TH where I thought my adventure would end. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I gawked at all of the pretty rock in the Lone Peak Cirque (my first time in here) and felt like I had had enough ridgeline scrambling for the summer and that it was time to get on some more vertical rock. The blisters on my feet were practically unbearable at this point, so I ate a few Ibuprofen and resolved to powerhike all the way back to the truck with little complaint. Thankfully, my joints and muscles all felt great. I winced in pain with each step downward on the moondust trail that is Jacob's Ladder, but I was happy to let my guard down and enjoy watching some of the interesting weather that was passing over Draper. Turns out, Jacob's Ladder isn't the most straightforward trail from the Cirque, and I spent more time backtracking than I would have liked.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw0QHCrjIkOVNL0clQH2KwI3QF-jaRfhQGr3K9qCYVkiDnR5MN1kq-PdBBto_YP2FSm5eaTTU6S8bz8K29IpIdg2wp6qKUb1NyN3wN3hvYPdUKkxZyhHjZKA1-h-SzqL-XOqJvlJ5Rttrh/s4032/IMG_2739.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw0QHCrjIkOVNL0clQH2KwI3QF-jaRfhQGr3K9qCYVkiDnR5MN1kq-PdBBto_YP2FSm5eaTTU6S8bz8K29IpIdg2wp6qKUb1NyN3wN3hvYPdUKkxZyhHjZKA1-h-SzqL-XOqJvlJ5Rttrh/w640-h480/IMG_2739.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Moments like these I find myself asking why I choose to attempt things like the WURL instead of going rock climbing</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">About 3,000 feet down and nearing the Jacob's Ladder TH, I decided to turn my phone off of airplane mode and check my texts. I had just completed the WURL! To my chagrin, Libby informed me about the Jacbob's Ladder TH closure, and after some Google mapping, I realized that my adventure would be 1.5 hours longer than I originally anticipated. This was slightly soul crushing, and I began to regret not going down the Notch and out of Bells, where there was water and shade. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I made it to the Jacob's Ladder TH at 6 PM, and sure enough, there were no cars nor people. To add insult to injury, the gusty weather created dust/sand drifts and I was running out of water. I alternated between jogging and power hiking back to the car at Orson Smith, nearly stepping on a rattlesnake and hoping to avoid any cougars. I arrived at the truck at 7:45 with the entire adventure behind me and a potluck with friends to look forward to. I was surprisingly coherent at dinner, and went home to sleep the sleep of the just; the just plain tired. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thoughts:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- The WURL certainly is my hardest and longest outing to date, and definitely will be thee adventure of the summer. The WURL has a lot of things going for it in terms of a reasonable objective on which to to set one's sights: lots of bail points, quick access to certain sections of ridgeline for caching, and easy access in general which makes forerunning sections a no-brainer. Moreover, all of the scrambling is approachable and common mountain sense should get you through the looser and harder to navigate sections. I consider myself having a substantial climbing background and felt very comfortable moving at a relatively steady pace over any terrain the route could throw at me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- I spent roughly two or more weeks obsessing over the WURL, turning down some fun plans and events in favor of resting and getting in the right mental state for my attempt. It was a lot of work—both mentally and emotionally. I could see attempting an objective like this once every few years; there's no way I'd want to incorporate such an outing into my adventure itinerary on a seasonal basis.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- I was drawn to the WURL because I felt uncertain that I had the physical or mental strength to complete the route, even though I had completed almost every section. I knew I wouldn't do it fast, and thus I set out to prove to myself that I could remain focused and on my feet in the mountains for upwards of 30 hours. Turns out I am capable of doing that and then some. Some sections were fun, some sections were not. Ultimately, I learned that I could complete seemingly unachievable goals if I resolve to getting them done. It's a simply idea in theory, but it means a lot more when testing it on such an excellent traverse.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- Right after completing the route, I felt like a bit of an imposter; like I didn't actually 'earn' my finish and somehow scraped by or got lucky. Now that I've had some time to process, I'm satisfied with my finish and know that an adventure like the WURL has gotten me that much closer to my limits. I think knowing where this threshold lies is important and will help me in ways that are useful not only in the high country but also in life. </div>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-16090788088985095822021-06-06T12:19:00.005-07:002021-06-06T12:23:35.841-07:00Awaxaawapìa Pìa Skiing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="399" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/2NItgBhbe2o" width="480" youtube-src-id="2NItgBhbe2o"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-1979886770637426242021-06-04T09:07:00.003-07:002021-06-04T09:14:49.156-07:00Dark Canyon Wilderness Loop<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_PVeCyf2q5UYm8JiZ2G9HAugavmJX1MX1stpR0aOnYP63wFmQYZv-sJK7YFGXdH1huZ3gDlcIExur6eSNFa3T0yMglAs-xhDW3KM_T2p9bXVWVAlLZKOCgb4QNWH4a8AmEgNnaKnYNqy-/s4032/IMG_2215.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_PVeCyf2q5UYm8JiZ2G9HAugavmJX1MX1stpR0aOnYP63wFmQYZv-sJK7YFGXdH1huZ3gDlcIExur6eSNFa3T0yMglAs-xhDW3KM_T2p9bXVWVAlLZKOCgb4QNWH4a8AmEgNnaKnYNqy-/w640-h480/IMG_2215.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>On the second week of May, Libby and I set out for our annual spring desert backpacking trip. Although we love the Swell, we chose to venture further south to Bears Ears. On this trip, we traveled through all types of desert terrain and saw some of the most intact dwellings/ancient structures that we've ever seen. On top of that, we spent the entirety of each day moving and got stoked for more remote adventures in the upcoming warm months. Backpacking continues to be a great way for Libby and I to press the reset button on our lives and reconnect with ourselves and each other. </div><div><br /></div><div>As Utah residents, we are incredibly fortunate to live only a short drive from some of the finest desert country in the world. These areas are vital for our wellbeing and their intactness preserves a heritage that Europeans spent years nearly eradicating. I always leave these trips feeling a tremendous amount of respect for the desert and whomever made it work for themselves in this unforgiving environment. Moreover, each trip into the desert makes me feel like this "public land" is not ours even though we as citizens technically own it. Indeed, I feel much smaller within the backdrop of the Intermountain West and know that I'm only a visitor in spaces such as these. </div><div><br /></div><div>Travel was from the Woodenshoe Canyon, up Dark Canyon, and out Peavine Canyon. I didn't record our track, but I estimate the total stats to be around 4,000-5,000 feet of gain and anywhere between 45-50 miles. We completed the trip in roughly 3 days and we felt we moved quickly. With trips like these, we always wish we had more time to stop and explore. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqe2xZ2KVX_MbxpZ8ZVCOuQ7WVWdbYcURWVnP8rjbJP8OcNq9YlAOTFCyykyc6I1Jz4zRzBGZwnjfTZys_TOjg8wrQYVuVbA4nFpzHfuDFzlqflevX-2_1sjXnG9ecR7opIRUR9nB3N7r/s2048/1bigpine.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqe2xZ2KVX_MbxpZ8ZVCOuQ7WVWdbYcURWVnP8rjbJP8OcNq9YlAOTFCyykyc6I1Jz4zRzBGZwnjfTZys_TOjg8wrQYVuVbA4nFpzHfuDFzlqflevX-2_1sjXnG9ecR7opIRUR9nB3N7r/w480-h640/1bigpine.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Albeit a bit late due to a trailhead snafu, we started down Woodenshoe Canyon, which was dense and had some massive ponderosa pines. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPNSznt8BrIngR2t0JQeJoufbrSfgIp0hMThe6HSRjcFcaUNFlCKapBZS-KGsjytevnxiVOB7au1jxgvJB5DD1S0ANIQSIVH33anfkuggJKbn6N1aYeNXtiZUfQDWJAquBMiu0_dUxUgiw/s2048/2cherrycanyon.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPNSznt8BrIngR2t0JQeJoufbrSfgIp0hMThe6HSRjcFcaUNFlCKapBZS-KGsjytevnxiVOB7au1jxgvJB5DD1S0ANIQSIVH33anfkuggJKbn6N1aYeNXtiZUfQDWJAquBMiu0_dUxUgiw/w640-h480/2cherrycanyon.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">We had lunch during the heat of the day at the confluence of Cherry and Woodenshoe. After eating I poked around looking for dwellings but couldn't find anything. We were out of the dense pine stands at this point. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCRB3Xhe5HJhxlf7d7N9O6pNFr4RSLigiHBxmv2071Y53PGyUSI6DQZf5voU0_euDYrssqPsmGueDqeUDiGO1mBWwKNdEfJa6kULJBRBx4HGcnPvgXMroMIwEckFCkW_zoMaMxbjrKgG1c/s2048/3dwelling.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCRB3Xhe5HJhxlf7d7N9O6pNFr4RSLigiHBxmv2071Y53PGyUSI6DQZf5voU0_euDYrssqPsmGueDqeUDiGO1mBWwKNdEfJa6kULJBRBx4HGcnPvgXMroMIwEckFCkW_zoMaMxbjrKgG1c/w640-h480/3dwelling.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Libby spotted this dwelling from the trail a ways between the Wates Pond area and Cherry Canyon.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfwpcy3FF4_RAc65Rriv6j4AxduSfTuFExYwcTtaDJc7bdoWDbx1eUj-1iuAoFSQ289fvx4zgvpeiljMOBxqLJ5po3qDhABbeJq1bw5dG7V6acxOb_PkFVxKttV5PpC8oUwfzx27ic7DR-/s4032/IMG_2225.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfwpcy3FF4_RAc65Rriv6j4AxduSfTuFExYwcTtaDJc7bdoWDbx1eUj-1iuAoFSQ289fvx4zgvpeiljMOBxqLJ5po3qDhABbeJq1bw5dG7V6acxOb_PkFVxKttV5PpC8oUwfzx27ic7DR-/w640-h480/IMG_2225.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Note the wooden beams and the windows. Incredibly intact.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidj2UJuuJbmCxt8FaeZlJj1zZJDiaHVNAN1WzvTL5Xb-wuOwBEBpN6XhqR_EOPmnkToBm70UqOtJ-Fdh0Rh7eJNYIoDGX7xncVI1kzdLywRmLgorpX53zjRIifg44qRYygpClO5CZWNZgp/s2048/4rain.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidj2UJuuJbmCxt8FaeZlJj1zZJDiaHVNAN1WzvTL5Xb-wuOwBEBpN6XhqR_EOPmnkToBm70UqOtJ-Fdh0Rh7eJNYIoDGX7xncVI1kzdLywRmLgorpX53zjRIifg44qRYygpClO5CZWNZgp/w640-h480/4rain.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I had never experienced rain in the desert until this trip. Luckily I brought my pancho. It looked like a weak system so we waited most of it out under a little overhang. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXup1LvNlLTzwx4KFU4q0dJBCrrlYXeOYQIGVpbVzdCIPrS5ux7vI19MfCJTM2flYP0uGC_WlbgjSeAkG8lwNBwaHtHg6iMPw15NcyWkXHLB6GxZHmfJDZ9as1sQjeuKoRDS7I4hV6fqKZ/s2048/5wattspond.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXup1LvNlLTzwx4KFU4q0dJBCrrlYXeOYQIGVpbVzdCIPrS5ux7vI19MfCJTM2flYP0uGC_WlbgjSeAkG8lwNBwaHtHg6iMPw15NcyWkXHLB6GxZHmfJDZ9as1sQjeuKoRDS7I4hV6fqKZ/w640-h480/5wattspond.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">The dirtiest part of the water source at Wates Pond, where we set up Camp 1. A really lovely area.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBqQ7Q-0Yu6JnfIFO-c-ilLtb94q2I2bBheZoL47eVxqoDx-0SxZWmn0ERy4TEHBE2EVhT3cmbH80PG8BeC7T0zfwKkCMqzoS47GhJLnhvNxS7ij6twivyg7J0PTW1UnrkGY25u8-LbJXp/s2048/6woodenshoeconfluence.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBqQ7Q-0Yu6JnfIFO-c-ilLtb94q2I2bBheZoL47eVxqoDx-0SxZWmn0ERy4TEHBE2EVhT3cmbH80PG8BeC7T0zfwKkCMqzoS47GhJLnhvNxS7ij6twivyg7J0PTW1UnrkGY25u8-LbJXp/w640-h480/6woodenshoeconfluence.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Toward the confluence of Dark Canyon, the lowest elevation of the hike. Hot, dry, sandy, and eroded, wave-like rock. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip-pkiHv6pdbtZ68tTqrmEI3r7E3F6LgN0kOP0_jY1xmB4ggHR7ALzbCpo5Z5fM9SSC_mlgCej4s2PPzxkeQvzyG4tWKmzhyphenhyphen-TPvDdsA_5W3ZBAeeqPeAJc5QS_jTKGkjfH3v_teBEFCWO/s2048/7collaredlizard.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip-pkiHv6pdbtZ68tTqrmEI3r7E3F6LgN0kOP0_jY1xmB4ggHR7ALzbCpo5Z5fM9SSC_mlgCej4s2PPzxkeQvzyG4tWKmzhyphenhyphen-TPvDdsA_5W3ZBAeeqPeAJc5QS_jTKGkjfH3v_teBEFCWO/w640-h360/7collaredlizard.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Collared Lizard</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiCAyu4DSPGnIDS9vHPUoBKXHegP36k8cEJdvhNG3rA1vbjbdmbNfDNWaiIUmXNCmGsR89kpCO6D2SQS7jLzibhY94YEohBPTGrC5k-AOKnh20Ng3R821VoKohJercCgJhouDK01m1rNC/s2048/8darkcanyon.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiCAyu4DSPGnIDS9vHPUoBKXHegP36k8cEJdvhNG3rA1vbjbdmbNfDNWaiIUmXNCmGsR89kpCO6D2SQS7jLzibhY94YEohBPTGrC5k-AOKnh20Ng3R821VoKohJercCgJhouDK01m1rNC/w640-h480/8darkcanyon.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Dark Canyon is DEEP! We looked up at some of the massive sandstone headwalls and daydreamed about coming back here with a rack and rope for some deserteering.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif33XxvwTFcNOfQstwEC-OZ7i1hXFy9irTjsVTjWa5LJxDRa7LCP4QpK6VompXeAw6-fPvkxhmBNBGNr4rvOKqMGQ4A7CuT3xGKFkEttR2-1kKh6L04iuN2Zao2rtbDQ1nHAj6yWnPxYQ6/s2048/9darkcanyongranary.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif33XxvwTFcNOfQstwEC-OZ7i1hXFy9irTjsVTjWa5LJxDRa7LCP4QpK6VompXeAw6-fPvkxhmBNBGNr4rvOKqMGQ4A7CuT3xGKFkEttR2-1kKh6L04iuN2Zao2rtbDQ1nHAj6yWnPxYQ6/w640-h480/9darkcanyongranary.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">A granary used to store grains, seeds, and other forage. We looked around and thought about how collecting grains (let alone building storage) would be a massive project. No wonder why the ancestral people who collected them also wanted to protect them. Were these canyons wetter when ancestral peoples lived here?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4DSUsSDnezFokDaWbP4s8IDWbYPnjhR0oOEMxL0vhsQcKQaOUEIyw3AQwNy0UvvrBIqR54tgbLIf2SmblAc-ZbYknMWcdI9Z_SprByuzkVEDQYJUIkV2NsL1iSjpmivmey6A2vRxS_nd/s2048/10trailcanyon.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4DSUsSDnezFokDaWbP4s8IDWbYPnjhR0oOEMxL0vhsQcKQaOUEIyw3AQwNy0UvvrBIqR54tgbLIf2SmblAc-ZbYknMWcdI9Z_SprByuzkVEDQYJUIkV2NsL1iSjpmivmey6A2vRxS_nd/w640-h480/10trailcanyon.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Camp 2, a bit up-canyon from Trail Canyon. The established campsites were taken by a party of three who decided to spread out, so we had to find our own. We cowboy camped that night, and it was surprisingly cold. Waking up throughout the night and gazing at the stars sweetens the deal. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxUujqua6BUZASL8gT6jFNYNf3FUGe2vR4QUv3udMQJ41FHO8RQtmAIM2inqrZM0_TPt7jutmNIU7hHsex2stLlQDRAPDtfFxylvaFqArubDHtlzCcqf_FUCGMmJDQ-wRSPLj06FkdhrRL/s2048/11peavinecanyon.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxUujqua6BUZASL8gT6jFNYNf3FUGe2vR4QUv3udMQJ41FHO8RQtmAIM2inqrZM0_TPt7jutmNIU7hHsex2stLlQDRAPDtfFxylvaFqArubDHtlzCcqf_FUCGMmJDQ-wRSPLj06FkdhrRL/w640-h480/11peavinecanyon.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">It started to feel more like 'forest' land once in Peavine Canyon. I wish we could've set up camp in one of the lovely, flat meadows. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitrKcErlJPz_icMapV5EWUfSQ7YRlNGoJm6TpP6XV6paLTR2zkgpBrFNTfD1r3asoRNgoS3Lmugtdy-IjaP8MuD_A7zGryNYBYwgBjnba8ZEFSYDu2tuuYEuCd7XhvizCBHrJwcGPKJ1Sb/s2048/12peavinecanyonwater.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitrKcErlJPz_icMapV5EWUfSQ7YRlNGoJm6TpP6XV6paLTR2zkgpBrFNTfD1r3asoRNgoS3Lmugtdy-IjaP8MuD_A7zGryNYBYwgBjnba8ZEFSYDu2tuuYEuCd7XhvizCBHrJwcGPKJ1Sb/w640-h480/12peavinecanyonwater.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Water was scarce on this trip and especially in Peavine Canyon. We sucked from some pretty nasty puddles. It tasted about as good as it looked. Unbeknownst to us, there was cleaner and more abundant water a bit further up-canyon. This was our last planned water refill until the cattle trough that we mistakenly thought was only a handful of miles ahead. </div><div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUFatrvmDItodssjHjnv1gKrBzQO1RuHDpsQsbqotZrF2bB87AGru7Wx4IUZzUdRGIMKkKUCFTH7ZmJOfB50EkdpDZmiAH6NnKsZ9Fmth-k8-vLhCucOswceOTEIPPdxUPG6_YKyc_6sZ9/s2048/13peavinecanyon.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUFatrvmDItodssjHjnv1gKrBzQO1RuHDpsQsbqotZrF2bB87AGru7Wx4IUZzUdRGIMKkKUCFTH7ZmJOfB50EkdpDZmiAH6NnKsZ9Fmth-k8-vLhCucOswceOTEIPPdxUPG6_YKyc_6sZ9/w640-h480/13peavinecanyon.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">We boogied on sandy FS road under the hot sun through much of lower Peavine Canyon.</div><div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div><div style="text-align: left;">After some miles, we had little water left and were excited to set up camp in a spacious, shady pine grove. We realized that we misread the map and mistook a corral for the cattle trough filled with cool, clear water. This meant hiking up canyon until we reached the cattle trough, which could've been anywhere from 1 to 4 miles. We only had 1 liter of water apiece, which was insufficient for camp and the following morning, so we continued up canyon. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Q8xL4QJH9SEdE_Jt-uvDESSCcKlF2rRds5pk9Qajgh9IBGa-o1lX0i7qMJaGcm9wTKgiOuJWIJ46RTu2mGfaphQkPvI3XUcTXJGOCSQ6QDNEdeWxKDisne0LgWaDW5szyqSu8gSjwgT4/s2048/14upperpeavine.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Q8xL4QJH9SEdE_Jt-uvDESSCcKlF2rRds5pk9Qajgh9IBGa-o1lX0i7qMJaGcm9wTKgiOuJWIJ46RTu2mGfaphQkPvI3XUcTXJGOCSQ6QDNEdeWxKDisne0LgWaDW5szyqSu8gSjwgT4/w640-h480/14upperpeavine.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Libby was dealing with some gnarly blisters, so she told me to go ahead and set up up camp once I found the trough. I moved heads down until I could find the cattle trough, but I did periodically look up and appreciate the airy aspen groves in upper Peavine. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyvr3E4IJ6RyDd8EyKHM1azHhv5lxwkVVvlJaRFIgBT-o_Z2jbKoApY39VMSbboBuqjfTTjCgn01kNhxQRJd2Pohi1E_WEV2NV7m16ALsRZL47T2HjW8bKKjzx0NxSaoau07O7ETjRW45j/s2048/15upperpeavinecamp.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyvr3E4IJ6RyDd8EyKHM1azHhv5lxwkVVvlJaRFIgBT-o_Z2jbKoApY39VMSbboBuqjfTTjCgn01kNhxQRJd2Pohi1E_WEV2NV7m16ALsRZL47T2HjW8bKKjzx0NxSaoau07O7ETjRW45j/w640-h480/15upperpeavinecamp.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Water! And some level space for camp! In my opinion it's poor form to camp this close to a water source, but it was late enough in the evening to assume that no one else would drop by.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We built a small fire and listened to a couple of great Snap Judgment stories before heading off to the tent. We wanted to soak in as much of Peavine Canyon before returning back to civilization.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsUL-eRIh0JMxcZYerwp3j6z1-pFPJrR_evhlCf_iR2TQrNnhe4_ypj-nVWaE1ezN5vLuc7pdY9EZFjbx-1MVgxhKr3SVCVlDDGipFKCwT1cSnU7U7_v-m8g51Q-Oo2Eirpde1NZmGZAxk/s2048/16campshoes.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsUL-eRIh0JMxcZYerwp3j6z1-pFPJrR_evhlCf_iR2TQrNnhe4_ypj-nVWaE1ezN5vLuc7pdY9EZFjbx-1MVgxhKr3SVCVlDDGipFKCwT1cSnU7U7_v-m8g51Q-Oo2Eirpde1NZmGZAxk/w480-h640/16campshoes.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">On the final day, we anticipated easy trail for the entire way back to the trailhead. I was breaking in my new shoes (dumb thing to do on a trip) and wanted some respite, so Libby and I both hiked in our camp shoes. I've got some goofy (but light!) water shoes, and Libby's got some plastic composite Birkenstocks. Nice one. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQg_4MdfmFkDV6s5xhu_IW7u8CnnlMbfSEpBdWjzC9aU9u7sLz2xLdUoyG2CAQ1su5xTTVXQ9wbXRFS2nm0stvrvcBl7IXW-nsc9oICeVcQm9Pjauk8JRdp3ePpMR-2RhujnFWPieDTv73/s2048/17upperpeavine.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQg_4MdfmFkDV6s5xhu_IW7u8CnnlMbfSEpBdWjzC9aU9u7sLz2xLdUoyG2CAQ1su5xTTVXQ9wbXRFS2nm0stvrvcBl7IXW-nsc9oICeVcQm9Pjauk8JRdp3ePpMR-2RhujnFWPieDTv73/w640-h480/17upperpeavine.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Upper Peavine was such a treat. Very fine high elevation wooded mesa. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJyH76PDt1Tk4OGcuqPDQKgDzva9HbWPId6VlOBdDOWYEpVfB7AgQL61DfguYhtLlHbfKT6-ir9aAqkP1ma7aPoZee-sCrQrpk63HxsNVUY_Te0HtMAYLLAjtceiwCAIYxmaimaUhmJbOV/s2048/18upperpeavineflowers.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJyH76PDt1Tk4OGcuqPDQKgDzva9HbWPId6VlOBdDOWYEpVfB7AgQL61DfguYhtLlHbfKT6-ir9aAqkP1ma7aPoZee-sCrQrpk63HxsNVUY_Te0HtMAYLLAjtceiwCAIYxmaimaUhmJbOV/w640-h480/18upperpeavineflowers.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">More of the same. Note all of the beautiful lupine. A trail runner's dream.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKEH9uLX2bOwxfnXE1msqNKLEEgyyxKXt6idvCk-89Xu3C48wqQglRQvrdrY7BCS2xBMh0tC-Z6ZtitM94nv1SpuunYgI_qNVkfCRv1Q9VoTyuF5_O5Dhymu1EDZtZ9RfYNNwT4E9l76bk/s2048/19upperpeavineaspens.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKEH9uLX2bOwxfnXE1msqNKLEEgyyxKXt6idvCk-89Xu3C48wqQglRQvrdrY7BCS2xBMh0tC-Z6ZtitM94nv1SpuunYgI_qNVkfCRv1Q9VoTyuF5_O5Dhymu1EDZtZ9RfYNNwT4E9l76bk/w640-h480/19upperpeavineaspens.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Aspens in upper Peavine.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We finished up the trip cruising the few miles of the well-bladed FS road back to the Woodenshoe Canyon TH. Spirits were high, but we knew that we would either need to break my car window or figure out a way to unlock the car from the outside. That trailhead snafu I mentioned before? I locked my keys in my truck. I spent a lot of time on the hike thinking about what a dumb mistake that was. Thanks to the inReach, we found out that we were in way too remote of a location to expect the FS or AAA to help us out for cheap. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I really did not want to break my window (we still had lots of traveling to do, including a drive to the Front Range), so we decided to spend a few more minutes devising a way to get into the truck without breaking anything.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Those few minutes were some of the more dramatic in recent memory. After some deliberation, we unlocked the car from the outside! I won't go into detail, but it turns out that all you need is some wire (in our case, cattle fence wire) and a pot scraper. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQgc2T2X1gACs3VhAj0hb6QguMFpH9jZZD7RoaSVKXZVE6b1ZHpUbuKkVl5mZWXsGsRr4WcMoe7Wrdw5UHFGgBjeLrl-t3792iCtzRz8cF47VzFkEMKHcbMAAZ1SgtXYvq4UUke3bFJ9L/s2048/20carbreakin.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQgc2T2X1gACs3VhAj0hb6QguMFpH9jZZD7RoaSVKXZVE6b1ZHpUbuKkVl5mZWXsGsRr4WcMoe7Wrdw5UHFGgBjeLrl-t3792iCtzRz8cF47VzFkEMKHcbMAAZ1SgtXYvq4UUke3bFJ9L/w480-h640/20carbreakin.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Victory!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp_zOZMxk_dw66cb8ALB0dKbkTUc1AWoKVMpr_lA6lrAIb2a8M-Ze_sPLwUyXr0gAdTdXHZXxqebTq03IP5InLir6Sf3_kZNc8KNk6pZLi5fI8eoF6Y5nbcrc0j4RaE7XIJtl7rW6kFFXs/s2048/21beers.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp_zOZMxk_dw66cb8ALB0dKbkTUc1AWoKVMpr_lA6lrAIb2a8M-Ze_sPLwUyXr0gAdTdXHZXxqebTq03IP5InLir6Sf3_kZNc8KNk6pZLi5fI8eoF6Y5nbcrc0j4RaE7XIJtl7rW6kFFXs/w480-h640/21beers.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Both of us were overjoyed and we drank the shit out of some cooler-cold beers and soaked up the high desert sunshine. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Next stop: a cheap motel in Durango.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-53901681358904393622021-05-23T12:10:00.004-07:002021-05-23T18:02:11.426-07:00White Pine Rambling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9RmPrjyGq0bPrMwigXbZWiMM4i0rvosk9AV68yWx7d0PeXG9XBbILPHEONvpyTjaclZzau_lrE2pZ8BkvwpjsSTaboCPdM2B5pZ__m8s6sc9YjufcyZy43ivtPHWjjAYdDFHlHlY2tG_s/s4032/IMG_2137.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9RmPrjyGq0bPrMwigXbZWiMM4i0rvosk9AV68yWx7d0PeXG9XBbILPHEONvpyTjaclZzau_lrE2pZ8BkvwpjsSTaboCPdM2B5pZ__m8s6sc9YjufcyZy43ivtPHWjjAYdDFHlHlY2tG_s/w640-h480/IMG_2137.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Ready to drop into Lake Chute</div><p><br /></p><p>White Pine is one of those drainages that I often daydream about, but with this being only my second season in the Wasatch (and a very high danger one at that), I've mostly stayed away. This May, I was able to take advantage of a relatively light final exam period by heading into White Pine on three separate occasions. I didn't have a hard and fast plan. Instead, I would reach tree line and choose terrain that made the most sense in terms of snow conditions. </p><p><br /></p><p><b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Lake Chute, Lake Peak</b> May 4, 2021</p><p>I started the tour noticing a soft refreeze at about 8k and followed the White Pine Road to the meadow, arriving in about 1:15. As I emerged from the gully, I noticed about 5-10cm of trapdoor crust on top of wet, stale corn. Not inspiring. Boulder Basin looked tempting, but the snow surface on N-NE was still firm and I was hoping to nail some better, softer snow on the SE-facing Lake Chute.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbVyB2PR9tbBXDJiMJ-fUjkFcKmILxs0QTvMwSqJYEjc9zZ4rr4B2pTkG54DuYJsgwGoHGIIZloRjIC4gCDXLU2azrW8NCpi04loFgwnXHxbAoMziZuWMCf31z3qDKwc2Bf1yinnp-0F3U/s4032/IMG_2129.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbVyB2PR9tbBXDJiMJ-fUjkFcKmILxs0QTvMwSqJYEjc9zZ4rr4B2pTkG54DuYJsgwGoHGIIZloRjIC4gCDXLU2azrW8NCpi04loFgwnXHxbAoMziZuWMCf31z3qDKwc2Bf1yinnp-0F3U/w640-h480/IMG_2129.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Boulder Basin looking good</div><p><br /></p><p>A party ahead of me finished skiing Boulder Basin and told me that it was okay and that Lake Chute looked a bit choppy but could be better by the time I drop in. I skinned below the flanks of Boulder Basin until I reached a cornice overhanging the apron of Lake Chute. Switching to booting was necessary and quite bad. The trapdoor crust over junk corn persisted and I was up to my crotch in lousy spring snow the entire way up the Chute. I arrived on the summit of Lake Peak in 3:06, which likely would go much faster in better conditions. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf9_b3mA6l5G0b-ND0qtvCoZHnkPaCV7LyLPryfe7z6XKXk4g0UIT0zkly4KqAC7C4QGENpBYTFQbrluT75GYcd6COD3NSiG5mydcheKI48J9hV-VnSTAEek6ZM0AJvRTdi_tBisPYpBA2/s4032/IMG_2134.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf9_b3mA6l5G0b-ND0qtvCoZHnkPaCV7LyLPryfe7z6XKXk4g0UIT0zkly4KqAC7C4QGENpBYTFQbrluT75GYcd6COD3NSiG5mydcheKI48J9hV-VnSTAEek6ZM0AJvRTdi_tBisPYpBA2/w640-h480/IMG_2134.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Red Baldy and Red Top from the top of Lake Chute</div><p><br /></p><p>The upper section of Lake Chute was moderately steep in the high 30s/low 40s and firm. I made choppy turns over chunder and punchy snow all the way down to White Pine Lake and began the very easy and enjoyable egress down the White Pine Road and back to the trailhead. This was the first day I broke in my CiloGear 45 pack, which worked surprisingly well as a daypack. It's steadily becoming my go-to workhorse... </p><p><br /></p><p><b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">NW Red Baldy, Red Baldy</b> May 6, 2021</p><p>Back at it again with a slightly later start than a couple of days ago, I noticed another soft refreeze as I climbed the White Pine Road, but stoke was still high. </p><p>At the meadow 5 minutes quicker than last time due to having the road and skin track a bit more dialed, I had my sights set on Red Baldy. I was at the base of NW Red Baldy an hour later skinning up very firm yet edge-able crust (no trapdoor this time, thankfully). Noticed some large debris piles on my way up. Gulp.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlBR62FuYVCkQ1Yll58eAagklDkBd_6gjYxSUkMNgtmdY4x4JySp9uH-_WP9byPixvXRSfGhigHDTw9WiC9eCf0utOKzpd9vKYJoCdguk89oxn-2BW4AO4u4UBhTms2B2nFhcPkTt8vYFH/s4032/IMG_2145.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlBR62FuYVCkQ1Yll58eAagklDkBd_6gjYxSUkMNgtmdY4x4JySp9uH-_WP9byPixvXRSfGhigHDTw9WiC9eCf0utOKzpd9vKYJoCdguk89oxn-2BW4AO4u4UBhTms2B2nFhcPkTt8vYFH/w640-h480/IMG_2145.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Looking cross-drainage at Lake Chute</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ScFdV5RWK1FtbimJnfFisSSQz-0OF0razPdvEfm8_sYLiA0zGpSPe2sCzeJLBTz90-wiMkfOPcSKcBVEmylzFzmjby7po9_CXZzaYgN-sVmdnXOtxz9SVXzwIu2ewRQWEyuZ4z3Jn6P5/s4032/IMG_2151.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ScFdV5RWK1FtbimJnfFisSSQz-0OF0razPdvEfm8_sYLiA0zGpSPe2sCzeJLBTz90-wiMkfOPcSKcBVEmylzFzmjby7po9_CXZzaYgN-sVmdnXOtxz9SVXzwIu2ewRQWEyuZ4z3Jn6P5/w480-h640/IMG_2151.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>Due to very firm, exposed, and annoying skinning conditions, I transitioned just shy of the summit, which I arrived at in 2:45. Again, this could go much faster with better conditions. I'll blame it on a lack of ski crampons. I've made an honest attempt at finding them in the past, but it turns out that hardboot splitboards require specialized (see: more expensive than necessary) ski crampons. It's tough to get splitboarding gear this season so I've had to suffer. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqKYSbvBBS6_a2NPxQtQbGx_7gPTyqjSmXixFLf2qNSUWxA2PLNKH1AowSQtoFm5O0VWI9IHbEixblK9ylnH8qrX7r-gfzhRMI1x3DW19OfhmF9ujXZX_yORxlzLDGzXLsj5IzteYZ8IS3/s4032/IMG_2153.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqKYSbvBBS6_a2NPxQtQbGx_7gPTyqjSmXixFLf2qNSUWxA2PLNKH1AowSQtoFm5O0VWI9IHbEixblK9ylnH8qrX7r-gfzhRMI1x3DW19OfhmF9ujXZX_yORxlzLDGzXLsj5IzteYZ8IS3/w640-h480/IMG_2153.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Looking down-drainage at the next day's objective</div><p><br /></p><p>NW Red Baldy rode exceptionally firm but thankfully smooth with little chunder. This is an excellent moderate ski run and I would love to come back and ride it in better conditions. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj26NpxT4rsLO6FE_DMyN_7wTD5SmzUNJNo2ISyvzHL8Q7J2E064LbzmGSRzz0pyaLqdVnjdjgC8JzX-GAFpDIPQlyuazD5lt8WeaBJIJP9HY4AdqaqsecoiZDd4Lxy3IuxN2F6e23l83Q-/s4032/IMG_2155.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj26NpxT4rsLO6FE_DMyN_7wTD5SmzUNJNo2ISyvzHL8Q7J2E064LbzmGSRzz0pyaLqdVnjdjgC8JzX-GAFpDIPQlyuazD5lt8WeaBJIJP9HY4AdqaqsecoiZDd4Lxy3IuxN2F6e23l83Q-/w640-h480/IMG_2155.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">The top of NW Red Baldy fairly locked up</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiysZmzdQzRD6whe7iiuPv_YDrZlxSaKBMvu-pJkctP0KBQt-0oPjsjofYNCs1PTW59Bv6CuVOCA4ZLrYKUuAOxFBRtgz1OwdifK_9H2vl22Zav5bQ-rVdrPf3irLocNbJI2Y7RnrqoMDeg/s4032/IMG_2157.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiysZmzdQzRD6whe7iiuPv_YDrZlxSaKBMvu-pJkctP0KBQt-0oPjsjofYNCs1PTW59Bv6CuVOCA4ZLrYKUuAOxFBRtgz1OwdifK_9H2vl22Zav5bQ-rVdrPf3irLocNbJI2Y7RnrqoMDeg/w640-h480/IMG_2157.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Looking back up at my firm descent</div><p><br /></p><p>I was back to the snow-covered creek (which was melting out fast!) in 3:05, the meadow in 3:15, and the car in 3:40. </p><p><br /></p><p><b><u>NW Red Baldy, Red Baldy; Birthday Chutes, Red Top</u></b> May 8, 2021</p><p>With finals behind me, I had a long Saturday planned and hoped that this spring snow had a bit more time over the past couple of days to come into better shape.</p><p>It didn't. But that's okay because I managed to cover a lot of ground and get eyes on some lines that I certainly would like to return to in the future. </p><p>With much colder temperatures in the forecast, I opted to start the day at 8 AM, hoping that this would set me up for some softer descents. Thanks to a very motivated party on my tail on the White Pine Road, I made it from the TH to the White Pine/Red Pine fork in :23, and the meadow in under 1:00. I was doing well on time and it was still cold so I decided to check out Icefall, a SE-facing line off of Red Baldy. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbSnIEeuisTmIgx_EzfVOf65nULn4Sni23itRnTRhqT0tjvMnHeN63iAXIj84-vT1HRyLKB7pJTZQqZ2AWCkfTb6KcpbYxsCl-F6jcyzWqT0wpsp1y3RvkZVVGkdiZhdF9zRhz7FlKW0MD/s2048/2CCA11D8-0A80-48C7-8D2F-BF55DA73017E.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbSnIEeuisTmIgx_EzfVOf65nULn4Sni23itRnTRhqT0tjvMnHeN63iAXIj84-vT1HRyLKB7pJTZQqZ2AWCkfTb6KcpbYxsCl-F6jcyzWqT0wpsp1y3RvkZVVGkdiZhdF9zRhz7FlKW0MD/w640-h480/2CCA11D8-0A80-48C7-8D2F-BF55DA73017E.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Looking across canyon at Twins and the north side of LCC</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I wasn't really up for firm, exposed skinning today so I took the skis off early and started booting. I got my eyes on Red Baldy's N couloir, which looks like an excellent and somewhat cryptic descent. I'd like to ride it one day, but I'd probably want to go from the bottom up or ski it with someone who has done so before. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA0d3-v6-iI8vv4XQwiFZ4DbzpsgmhoDSxsA6jpdD8oxWVIBGovcd8R9FMntEpr_3QAGf0TlcsoHM8Afks-EifglTcGtx8lRJqc-oUjEES1y4U5rSEDIp6nhRP5YOF4GkqUJIvIEEwnrfd/s2048/6F270430-18FE-4F0A-A3CF-8A05AEB61DAF.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA0d3-v6-iI8vv4XQwiFZ4DbzpsgmhoDSxsA6jpdD8oxWVIBGovcd8R9FMntEpr_3QAGf0TlcsoHM8Afks-EifglTcGtx8lRJqc-oUjEES1y4U5rSEDIp6nhRP5YOF4GkqUJIvIEEwnrfd/w640-h480/6F270430-18FE-4F0A-A3CF-8A05AEB61DAF.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">The upper section of Red Baldy's N couloir</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ny-jWdvU2b7iPlAX5lcGjggkjPbvjY-xwKWnmdznkaTrnPlHXuiP_mYCaidhFmdtm_sPrsnPRZPw7FTB1AVV6otQpIdkyQ6jc2gLLYgdBFGJmKcZtfLN7kxQfcVkGyleMiVQvrery88w/s2048/10CAE76B-5CE1-4CA1-B1AC-75E608103AC8.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ny-jWdvU2b7iPlAX5lcGjggkjPbvjY-xwKWnmdznkaTrnPlHXuiP_mYCaidhFmdtm_sPrsnPRZPw7FTB1AVV6otQpIdkyQ6jc2gLLYgdBFGJmKcZtfLN7kxQfcVkGyleMiVQvrery88w/w640-h480/10CAE76B-5CE1-4CA1-B1AC-75E608103AC8.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Loving Red Baldy's narrow NW ridge with great styrofoam snow</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I noticed that another party had ascended Red Baldy's SW ridge before me and arrived at the top of Icefall. I watched all seven(!) of them ski it and felt hopeful as I traversed across Red Baldy's cruxy and fun NW ridge. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6FWJVrJMsMuCrn5vHE0XvP8hAObdQE0GZ4LFw7h-wDLMKl16YGXZjxxJYAsgQr9qAlwaQVUUMRhlrBGIxU_BR7vk1gkOaDVo2kTpYX1MJOwyEE1_HBtKNptfx97vm6ENrd0FFr8mYd5ft/s2048/63BD099E-8AD7-48A6-B3D8-0392944FB7AE.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6FWJVrJMsMuCrn5vHE0XvP8hAObdQE0GZ4LFw7h-wDLMKl16YGXZjxxJYAsgQr9qAlwaQVUUMRhlrBGIxU_BR7vk1gkOaDVo2kTpYX1MJOwyEE1_HBtKNptfx97vm6ENrd0FFr8mYd5ft/w640-h480/63BD099E-8AD7-48A6-B3D8-0392944FB7AE.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div>Aesthetic ridgetop booting</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I arrived at what seems like the true Red Baldy summit in 3:25 and made a quick transition atop one of the micro-entrances into Icefall. It was about 11 AM, but the S-facing snow on the ridgetop felt perfect. I was delighted to drop in to a line that I heard so many great things about.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_3kT_XYIJPQ-797whFNJobKh78qbNVu8SypGVjU3eOysxkFXTmcQRu78SYNSmZhAh_rmfJuNUFvGRucD1IKDHV7EjgOoX5XMbQJg2uB5aKNuaEtAQd7Uv6j4yfkY7S4eX08E3nA101tP9/s2048/2271C7F7-CC2A-4245-99BB-13316D2343A0.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_3kT_XYIJPQ-797whFNJobKh78qbNVu8SypGVjU3eOysxkFXTmcQRu78SYNSmZhAh_rmfJuNUFvGRucD1IKDHV7EjgOoX5XMbQJg2uB5aKNuaEtAQd7Uv6j4yfkY7S4eX08E3nA101tP9/w640-h480/2271C7F7-CC2A-4245-99BB-13316D2343A0.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Looking down one of the many entrances of Icefall and into Silver Creek</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And so I was disappointed when I made several turns and kicked off very wet, unsupportable mush about 12"+ deep. Not only would I need to descend the line with these deteriorating conditions, but I would also need to ascend out of Silver Creek and over East Pass, which is all S-facing. I had no desire to shave my margins this close despite watching a party of seven ski it without consequence, so I bailed. In my opinion, wet slab was definitely a factor. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As such, I down climbed Red Baldy's summit, strapped in, and traversed over rocks into NW Baldy to ski that line once again. Very similar conditions to the last time. At the apron, I cut hard skier's right with hopes of getting Tri Chute in decent conditions. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Unfortunately the lower portion of Tri Chute looked thin coverage-wise and the choke was filled with avy debris. My last option was Birthday Chutes, so I continued traversing skier's right until I reached the NW ridge leading up to the top of the chutes. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My stoke eroded when one of my skins failed. The glue would not stick despite multiple warming efforts, so I resolved to booting the ridge all of the way to the top of the chutes. This really sucked, as more trapdoor crust made the last 1,000 feet go painstakingly slow (roughly 1 hour). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFU6KjGcDHWEtQC_QlW39IznBAx7uf7yk6EtZtjW4H1UW2zgkRWni2bzM6hw9n3rsgBPG1Pu9S0xUNtoHMvfX1XwVyHg-elUTMEINNclsexY3naQsxBtVaWkEPkWemYM3FESkzakJtzt9F/s2048/7415B0CD-A63C-4D6C-84E7-BB49D186B5B5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFU6KjGcDHWEtQC_QlW39IznBAx7uf7yk6EtZtjW4H1UW2zgkRWni2bzM6hw9n3rsgBPG1Pu9S0xUNtoHMvfX1XwVyHg-elUTMEINNclsexY3naQsxBtVaWkEPkWemYM3FESkzakJtzt9F/w640-h480/7415B0CD-A63C-4D6C-84E7-BB49D186B5B5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Looking up at a grueling bootpack/posthole that I will repress from my memory </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was quite gassed at the top, which I arrived at in 5:45. I stopped for a long break, fueled up, and realized how cold and windy it was. No wonder why N-NW never really came into shape. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxseUFTmZ_FMnK-AfmwXokZ9ibCfX_54exysvQlQSIM-BYPwycmOBY54IW4Q1eMb-dXuayqqo5qF8axGZH863XFrTF6FoXLiGF6Leul1IPXNLArA80yQsjVYRS9dQ2NhWTY2EWygZwA-Yc/s2048/F15AA82E-E961-47E7-8860-8B180A4C3672.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxseUFTmZ_FMnK-AfmwXokZ9ibCfX_54exysvQlQSIM-BYPwycmOBY54IW4Q1eMb-dXuayqqo5qF8axGZH863XFrTF6FoXLiGF6Leul1IPXNLArA80yQsjVYRS9dQ2NhWTY2EWygZwA-Yc/w640-h480/F15AA82E-E961-47E7-8860-8B180A4C3672.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I descended one of the Birthday Chutes (the second one from looker's right) and really enjoyed the lower sections above the White Pine meadow, which were pleasantly soft and fast. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWs2DEd24rjrMp99169ybFQYmyxCKxjkMLv3klmto_s_VR3dIRjrZ4F00Oi7n_IoCFttfehyVt7K7DI4eqfUr4VZX1T3UuKn5PiuAdIydFoG4sbVCqfyudB9akCOfzrN7Cnu_RsutE33d_/s1911/842BC15E-CB1A-4669-B8E5-EABD6F0FE7B1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1433" data-original-width="1911" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWs2DEd24rjrMp99169ybFQYmyxCKxjkMLv3klmto_s_VR3dIRjrZ4F00Oi7n_IoCFttfehyVt7K7DI4eqfUr4VZX1T3UuKn5PiuAdIydFoG4sbVCqfyudB9akCOfzrN7Cnu_RsutE33d_/w640-h480/842BC15E-CB1A-4669-B8E5-EABD6F0FE7B1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Firm turns down one of the Birthday Chutes</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I was back at the car in an elapsed 6:30, surprisingly worked for the amount of vert and ready to start packing for a two week road trip with Libby. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Thoughts:</b></div><div>- Conditions on the north side of the compass never really came into shape during this week, and that was fine with me I suppose. While spring conditions offer relative stability, nailing down <i>good </i>spring conditions is complicated. I'll continue to stick to the old "you don't know until you go" adage.</div><div>- White Pine is one of those places where I can say with utmost sincerity "It's just good being out here." That adage would define these outings since the riding was never that good, but the aesthetics were top notch. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p></div>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-83284774438779551402021-05-17T08:16:00.002-07:002021-05-17T08:16:45.611-07:00Getting Away With It on Twin<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY3QqFFl9b8S_erWxgHvzGudb_qS5uo-tC1-Fk4omTHbBiQa9mMAwRGRyFHcHSeSNO2rxgq8eNDDg5izWX1WLWn_2_SikY1AQ4L0POUQrAjxAeOccPjr7Gvqjc0s8CUkjXICkBatdgZE1g/s4000/IMG_1876.JPG"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY3QqFFl9b8S_erWxgHvzGudb_qS5uo-tC1-Fk4omTHbBiQa9mMAwRGRyFHcHSeSNO2rxgq8eNDDg5izWX1WLWn_2_SikY1AQ4L0POUQrAjxAeOccPjr7Gvqjc0s8CUkjXICkBatdgZE1g/w640-h480/IMG_1876.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p><br />On Saturday 3/27/21 I had an excellent day linking a pair of lines on Twin: the E Face, which I had rode the previous year, and the NW Couloir, which was new to me. </p><p>Based on the day's conditions, this was a daring day of backcountry skiing. I've learned a lot from this outing and have since dialed it back. Much of the details about our decision-making are relayed in <a href="https://utahavalanchecenter.org/observation/61693">this observation I submitted to UAC</a>. For the sake of brevity, I will refrain from reiterating what I've already stated in that observation. Read that if you want some more context. </p><p>Anyway... Early in the tour we noticed wind-loading on the E Face from the W-SW while skinning up the drainage. I expressed concerns, and my partner and I agreed that we would continue to reassess the situation as we neared Twin.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUxoRGQoFVLisL8cDkSPb31R9cvyaDYiR1wpqRE8Ip3iewKTf9i9cYAcz99Aa0rvkt6rmmcnS9DJxbYMHJCHWA8_nMIJvTRrwK-Ij4HZnW4xgjMu15vEdU5O8DH9hEF413MA-xntHbp8zh/s4000/IMG_1882.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUxoRGQoFVLisL8cDkSPb31R9cvyaDYiR1wpqRE8Ip3iewKTf9i9cYAcz99Aa0rvkt6rmmcnS9DJxbYMHJCHWA8_nMIJvTRrwK-Ij4HZnW4xgjMu15vEdU5O8DH9hEF413MA-xntHbp8zh/w640-h480/IMG_1882.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Under the E Face we deliberated between booting the face directly or ascending via the south ridge. I suggested booting the E Face because it was fast and I had done so last season. This was the 'Familiarity' in FACETS in motion. Just because I had booted the E Face without hiccup last season does not mean that it would be good to go on this day. This was poor judgment on my behalf and I am glad we did not choose this option. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBzjjuvzsp09ng2-gLl01B-teDGGiBGHmY9v3OYg3-Lp27ArxZ3deqFpaPIa_4uNXkFOhEabGzv72d6yCWg1CrgpslZ56hgowxTrC0CeA3_By6pv4qJ3npTmU43ecgKssCHYwKbuKqZZQe/s5095/DSC08273_Original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3397" data-original-width="5095" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBzjjuvzsp09ng2-gLl01B-teDGGiBGHmY9v3OYg3-Lp27ArxZ3deqFpaPIa_4uNXkFOhEabGzv72d6yCWg1CrgpslZ56hgowxTrC0CeA3_By6pv4qJ3npTmU43ecgKssCHYwKbuKqZZQe/w640-h426/DSC08273_Original.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Photo by Lane</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As we gained Twin's south ridge, we noticed a wind slab crown about 10-15' wide and 8-10" deep. We booted the bed surface, gained the ridge, and got into ridgeline mode. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The first thing we noticed on the South Ridge was a wind slab avalanche on the SW bowl below the party before us' (Party #1) bootpack. It didn't seem very big, but little did we know it caught and carried a member of Party #1. Again, we followed in the footsteps of Party #1 and continued on toward the summit.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">While on the summit crest, we watched Party #1 ski the E Face and kick off multiple small wind slabs. They successfully descended the line without getting knocked off of their feet. Since we had planned to ski the E Face, we took this is a good sign, but I think FACETS was at play again in the form of 'Acceptance,' 'Commitment or Consistency,' and 'Social Proof.' </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDTBxBGzxXljUAimFp7tqIIpiw3C0XeipdCenIlMWBgURu7_wK6rXFV6-CVpZj0ppBaN3vgCfhI6xtQQnL7HL2DIcBmw5H4ukiwLEjuBuYXLl-NvChkhMBu2NUouY7uFBFwl0jd3wBw-O/s4000/IMG_1878.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDTBxBGzxXljUAimFp7tqIIpiw3C0XeipdCenIlMWBgURu7_wK6rXFV6-CVpZj0ppBaN3vgCfhI6xtQQnL7HL2DIcBmw5H4ukiwLEjuBuYXLl-NvChkhMBu2NUouY7uFBFwl0jd3wBw-O/w640-h480/IMG_1878.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">At the top of the E Face, each of us made hard ski cuts and kicked off a small pocket of windslab apiece. At this point, we felt that we had properly flushed our line, but continued to ski very conservatively and in short pitches. The descent was a sharky base-scraping mess, and the only quality turns were found on the finishing apron. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4hG71Ck8bzvIGmTykCy-BggxBFd5zukyttQj1ULn-uYDXE-ncYTF7oWPUpIOpMbFzJ0EvZoQNds3xbl90Jv-YSEY2h9dRwiwtaiSGV9Nx-cgXdrUDyrXlgjsI5RDcO6hZp2UYZ3krrN9i/s3331/IMG_1881.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2498" data-original-width="3331" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4hG71Ck8bzvIGmTykCy-BggxBFd5zukyttQj1ULn-uYDXE-ncYTF7oWPUpIOpMbFzJ0EvZoQNds3xbl90Jv-YSEY2h9dRwiwtaiSGV9Nx-cgXdrUDyrXlgjsI5RDcO6hZp2UYZ3krrN9i/w640-h480/IMG_1881.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A sharky E Face</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgViReGd19bAz2VqWziaN4uCpR_zRcGhTFE52CARpkhJKdZBylhsT9gkmf7H40jNka-Vc5kTFF7Ppn_mcCs788kmq5uo9Bf_RJFG1b4Yok0ocabVIbj-SvovE7ZK3ELrksHkVyYJoqmVDJq/s4741/DSC08321_Original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3161" data-original-width="4741" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgViReGd19bAz2VqWziaN4uCpR_zRcGhTFE52CARpkhJKdZBylhsT9gkmf7H40jNka-Vc5kTFF7Ppn_mcCs788kmq5uo9Bf_RJFG1b4Yok0ocabVIbj-SvovE7ZK3ELrksHkVyYJoqmVDJq/w640-h426/DSC08321_Original.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Photo by Lane</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">At this point, we were motivated to get on top of Twin again and check out the elusive NW Couloir. There was no more wind at this point, so I thought that any potential damage had already been done. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhs3XjGqHBojKApMTB-5_vMSDD_044Y-5QSRV8qoYxpptCmoIKfpHcDZMnhnlDtP_-yw5GtrEN5-Nev-sjxNAPUTty5xoYfhCtrpYvrRRYqCFCTYzyhcbhVieROw6873zqlhScoNxWECLs/s3201/IMG_1884.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2401" data-original-width="3201" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhs3XjGqHBojKApMTB-5_vMSDD_044Y-5QSRV8qoYxpptCmoIKfpHcDZMnhnlDtP_-yw5GtrEN5-Nev-sjxNAPUTty5xoYfhCtrpYvrRRYqCFCTYzyhcbhVieROw6873zqlhScoNxWECLs/w640-h480/IMG_1884.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>We decided to ski the NW Couloir from Twin's west summit. The walk-ski mode mechanism on my Sportivas froze (not the first time this happened) and we spent a bit longer than I would have liked on top of the summit warming them up.<div><br /></div><div>I traversed across the entrance to the NW Couloir and kicked off a wide but shallow wind slab, which flushed down into the couloir. This would be the last wind slab we would kick off that day.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzW9KDGdzhIQW9d3uoSsK8nFUwuthOe64Rw-ycnYDHOm3wnMD-ajIkOktZOIln-JLl8EN2JuncoMngMxcEtAfvk1rITBg2k4JUmGGXMLej7NvUWf1NPwCyXwkFKOP42XEgtiH0N3_7KeUR/s4000/IMG_1885.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzW9KDGdzhIQW9d3uoSsK8nFUwuthOe64Rw-ycnYDHOm3wnMD-ajIkOktZOIln-JLl8EN2JuncoMngMxcEtAfvk1rITBg2k4JUmGGXMLej7NvUWf1NPwCyXwkFKOP42XEgtiH0N3_7KeUR/w640-h480/IMG_1885.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Contemplating the NW Couloir</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh57ooyY8okgCyIoTIA46NoF2vWAF0XVOyDZRSZ8uSKn-I6jQvScFZrk4kCf6vHMuxHHrzPgWjXj-RrXI8N8j7HwXZy8gohWibDMW8D710bkBw8R06ICbzU3WmXeec_V1ET0_-mhWnnFi3-/s4000/IMG_1893.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh57ooyY8okgCyIoTIA46NoF2vWAF0XVOyDZRSZ8uSKn-I6jQvScFZrk4kCf6vHMuxHHrzPgWjXj-RrXI8N8j7HwXZy8gohWibDMW8D710bkBw8R06ICbzU3WmXeec_V1ET0_-mhWnnFi3-/w640-h480/IMG_1893.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Lane in the NW couloir's narrower section</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_V4KkK0V2mQp_RScBBwfI42kWy0QLeCjQg9xBeqj14uhrhpWdrQDeQfoAd0epn7JQMfEUtj96Yi2IvUvwEjENWfZifSuznA4yF_OAiT5tJx8q7GyzelFVmiIR9hfc_jgKgUHbeNijt5vO/s2567/IMG_1913.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1925" data-original-width="2567" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_V4KkK0V2mQp_RScBBwfI42kWy0QLeCjQg9xBeqj14uhrhpWdrQDeQfoAd0epn7JQMfEUtj96Yi2IvUvwEjENWfZifSuznA4yF_OAiT5tJx8q7GyzelFVmiIR9hfc_jgKgUHbeNijt5vO/w640-h480/IMG_1913.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Exceptionally fine snow quality </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxKRnhHhduKPIQMhsATSUtqRZRo07xREubOK3IrodtDc-taXvr3A3jIm42iM-3iSN_nlekQ2dvdrmqQGu8uKVa4hG2zYa00awqPZZJgascdCzkoUSBGxNqNhR74PEtpQ8CCCcTY_pYYfn/s4455/DSC08395_Original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2970" data-original-width="4455" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxKRnhHhduKPIQMhsATSUtqRZRo07xREubOK3IrodtDc-taXvr3A3jIm42iM-3iSN_nlekQ2dvdrmqQGu8uKVa4hG2zYa00awqPZZJgascdCzkoUSBGxNqNhR74PEtpQ8CCCcTY_pYYfn/w640-h426/DSC08395_Original.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">photo by Lane</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirxH2-xAHOcKpbUCCkN5FC4e3MiwkJvBQa0KL7cbGNnz3TXTf_X-LIDtLLfpCqTrzazEHlIZRyM5NydjVjmf8MuxY6sY7HF6ktBpBGktmLXp25NNjyGswshBqMkvPVuD7ZYcTOk96-qJ-C/s4000/IMG_1916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirxH2-xAHOcKpbUCCkN5FC4e3MiwkJvBQa0KL7cbGNnz3TXTf_X-LIDtLLfpCqTrzazEHlIZRyM5NydjVjmf8MuxY6sY7HF6ktBpBGktmLXp25NNjyGswshBqMkvPVuD7ZYcTOk96-qJ-C/w640-h480/IMG_1916.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Our original plan was to boot out of the north fork of Deaf Smith and finish the day on Stairs Gulch. With the day's heat and dicey conditions, we decided against this and took our chances in the mysterious north fork of Deaf Smith.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQEUUgkQ45QyQDTgZBi_3Eya1tUf-91AOTRerakdX4ZezcQGPlL032JxxwPJIc5o4SQmD3I3mBrPeUV_fxFCKYroHOCsDcHHpScSfsCmqNE9yvkVDu88io727QwwsIuz30DgP1K1Z4IENV/s4000/IMG_1917.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQEUUgkQ45QyQDTgZBi_3Eya1tUf-91AOTRerakdX4ZezcQGPlL032JxxwPJIc5o4SQmD3I3mBrPeUV_fxFCKYroHOCsDcHHpScSfsCmqNE9yvkVDu88io727QwwsIuz30DgP1K1Z4IENV/w640-h480/IMG_1917.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">About as aesthetic as it gets. The NW Couloir is right up there with the greats</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0TTsuBhCm_3VgYRPKSa62_T3S1W-jAwhRJwgaPxZ5viilFPghtH9tmcMNSsdr7HL13_aHPi1Vavm9PLAXxRNd7J3DnsnHX-bO9IIVWPRTf54mzMpL3d85mBw_YWVy6wqCyhyphenhyphenYG5Lsutl6/s4000/IMG_1919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0TTsuBhCm_3VgYRPKSa62_T3S1W-jAwhRJwgaPxZ5viilFPghtH9tmcMNSsdr7HL13_aHPi1Vavm9PLAXxRNd7J3DnsnHX-bO9IIVWPRTf54mzMpL3d85mBw_YWVy6wqCyhyphenhyphenYG5Lsutl6/w640-h480/IMG_1919.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Looking down the N Fork of Deaf Smith and into Salt Lake Valley </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdkIKVKAzW1Ap99slkw8XiFyCpqNmW5U3ry0xyc4ia_dpeuIl49FnjBvBuNBicrpPMjA8vrFm3fXYGnoKnAdMkNA1EhzRTvOdfgd_Bz2zfd4o22KUijwtGkWCiYDY2h5i7njPPKX5Vwf0-/s4000/IMG_1921.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdkIKVKAzW1Ap99slkw8XiFyCpqNmW5U3ry0xyc4ia_dpeuIl49FnjBvBuNBicrpPMjA8vrFm3fXYGnoKnAdMkNA1EhzRTvOdfgd_Bz2zfd4o22KUijwtGkWCiYDY2h5i7njPPKX5Vwf0-/w640-h480/IMG_1921.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Wet loose turned into dense early spring snow turned into schmoo turned into heavy isothermic mush. It wasn't before long until the dry patches of slide alder outnumbered the snow, and we were off our skis negotiating waterfalls and chossy quartzite ledges. The N Fork of Deaf Smith is a doozy. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuUkIKPdWpmsU3THU8_YVaZqvMlzajTVkQvfVQ4wa3S-zpEFcfn-WmkUbYhl7sabGd5_yZJewyryCQC13cei7EfsoAQhyphenhyphenQXRtVzvOB0FcVi7g6QrbOcWUFqZLYD2605kxoPTOJF56AeTV3/s4000/IMG_1924.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuUkIKPdWpmsU3THU8_YVaZqvMlzajTVkQvfVQ4wa3S-zpEFcfn-WmkUbYhl7sabGd5_yZJewyryCQC13cei7EfsoAQhyphenhyphenQXRtVzvOB0FcVi7g6QrbOcWUFqZLYD2605kxoPTOJF56AeTV3/w640-h480/IMG_1924.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQTeudhF9L2PnO5nQB25q9JuZXwWRPAh_vyLoi8tGe2Xu7iiyW2zgBP5m6QpEAT5Egh7alKc0mn-uIk__uo8G1_wHPnBnjk-dpqjJ0oBS9-7HQ9lbsEOjxNMnAIOIYb8DSdS5WNrzXI92S/s4000/IMG_1925.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQTeudhF9L2PnO5nQB25q9JuZXwWRPAh_vyLoi8tGe2Xu7iiyW2zgBP5m6QpEAT5Egh7alKc0mn-uIk__uo8G1_wHPnBnjk-dpqjJ0oBS9-7HQ9lbsEOjxNMnAIOIYb8DSdS5WNrzXI92S/w640-h480/IMG_1925.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit5yUIfUaqQWTmbw6A2KtAGz6gBXEEuIdQcakMF-9cY9txMRZtjTE2nQG0y7EFan3tB5k-7Sd6vlki90Rtw1B_UT22Nk6UjunPqmqjzfC2ayvaoRbiBC8KzQddAGBhrMgpdleN2HRVD1Ht/s5472/DSC08505_Original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit5yUIfUaqQWTmbw6A2KtAGz6gBXEEuIdQcakMF-9cY9txMRZtjTE2nQG0y7EFan3tB5k-7Sd6vlki90Rtw1B_UT22Nk6UjunPqmqjzfC2ayvaoRbiBC8KzQddAGBhrMgpdleN2HRVD1Ht/w640-h426/DSC08505_Original.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Luckily, my partner practically lives at the base of Deaf Smith, and he received some local beta on how to avoid trespassing at the canyon mouth.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZb-2v2WtvBq5GmQgd6GWFG1fR3e7lUzlxULnrvn0f4iPxVdotdl3ayv7Q6PoK2DUD4v4N6npu0PwgqNb4O1BktPnA8Xy9OCHRV0ddRS0aAsYH2mw1LCKU5k_8lssydJ6KbWul-MrnmIl/s2656/IMG_1926.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1992" data-original-width="2656" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZb-2v2WtvBq5GmQgd6GWFG1fR3e7lUzlxULnrvn0f4iPxVdotdl3ayv7Q6PoK2DUD4v4N6npu0PwgqNb4O1BktPnA8Xy9OCHRV0ddRS0aAsYH2mw1LCKU5k_8lssydJ6KbWul-MrnmIl/w640-h480/IMG_1926.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1yttq_vcO0cZXdjyxkdhcCNdwvq9tXa69nt4EODMzu3P1ilY63QV4vKfQRqdduzR02tEi5S7MIeoBxdJQPnmQaGmw4-aM6pmvTGHqZ4Ml65NjeG2qQ1euHxK_rK61YOM6VgR_Tb9ql013/s4000/IMG_1927.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1yttq_vcO0cZXdjyxkdhcCNdwvq9tXa69nt4EODMzu3P1ilY63QV4vKfQRqdduzR02tEi5S7MIeoBxdJQPnmQaGmw4-aM6pmvTGHqZ4Ml65NjeG2qQ1euHxK_rK61YOM6VgR_Tb9ql013/w640-h480/IMG_1927.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After an elapsed 11 hours on the go, we were back at my partner's house waiting for Libby to shuttle us back to our cars at the S-Curves in BCC.</div><p>Thoughts:</p><p>- We made A LOT of decisions this day, and I think we got away with some of them. Particularly, we were lucky to arrive at the south ridge after Party #1. If we arrived first, I think we would have gone forward with the bootpack up the ridge. In that case we might have been the group to trigger the wind slab and the consequences could have been much worse for us. It's so hard to say whether this would be the case, which brings me to my next point...</p><p>- The attitude I employed on this day is inconsistent with the attitude that I would like to employ every time I go out into consequential avalanche terrain. I like to think that my overall strategy in the mountains leans toward conservative decision-making with an eye on the long game rather than the pursuit of short-term rewards. (This is a rough interpretation of a chart I saw in 'Staying Alive in Avalanche Terrain,' but bear with me) If we travel in avalanche terrain every day for 100 days, we need to make the right decisions 99.99% of the time if we want to survive a lifetime of skiing in avalanche terrain. I am certain that I lack both the knowledge or experience to make the right decision 99.99% of the time, and thus I must turn around or choose safer alternatives when faced with uncertainty. The odds aren't in my favor otherwise. </p><p>- E Face <b>ALPTRUTH</b>: <b>A</b>valanches? Yes; <b>L</b>oading? Yes, wind; <b>P</b>ath? Yep; Terrain <b>Tr</b>ap? Yes; <b>R</b>ating? Low; <b>U</b>nstable Snow? Yes; <b>Th</b>awing? No. Five of the factors were present, so the odds were not in our favor here. </p><p>- NW Couloir <b>ALPTRUTH</b>: <b>A</b>valanches? None observed; <b>L</b>oading? Yes, at the top; <b>P</b>ath? Yep; Terrain <b>Tr</b>ap? Yes; <b>R</b>ating? Low; <b>U</b>nstable Snow? Yes at the top, no lower in the couloir; <b>Th</b>awing? No. This one is less clear cut. It seems we were right on the cusp. In any event, decisions made on the cusp are not the ones that increase your chances of surviving in the backcountry. </p><p>- I think we were both motivated for a big day on Twin, and that certainly affected our decision-making. It would have taken more than just some shallow wind slabs to get us to turn around. But like <a href="https://noahhowell.com/2018/02/06/red-slate-avalanche/">Noah Howell said</a>, high motivation gets parties in trouble. Indeed, a shallow wind slab carried someone off of their feet that day, so conditions were not as 'manageable' as we perceived.</p></div>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-28821167154158554412021-04-12T09:09:00.006-07:002021-05-16T08:32:04.791-07:00Box Elder Peak-NW Couloir<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2i5y2x_QyGSwLqgjOABmTsY7iadkicicDpKXtWK8V0XFXiLgADzTBCidxq-pWhxCtDFOxqxBe6UBCThrrlGksbfJX7uMr2GTh97rfQzP1GnkaUspPcUdcZ3ovZ9Q6hqbdYOOF6PmgZmWL/s3933/IMG_2003.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2212" data-original-width="3933" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2i5y2x_QyGSwLqgjOABmTsY7iadkicicDpKXtWK8V0XFXiLgADzTBCidxq-pWhxCtDFOxqxBe6UBCThrrlGksbfJX7uMr2GTh97rfQzP1GnkaUspPcUdcZ3ovZ9Q6hqbdYOOF6PmgZmWL/w400-h225/IMG_2003.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>On Saturday, 4/10/21 I rode the NW Couloir of Box Elder Peak. Leading up to the weekend, I obsessed over weather data and the forecast. There were so many question marks and variables involved that deciding on an objective was rather challenging. For instance, a recent storm delivering up to 16" in the Cottonwoods earlier in the week reduced the chances of a nice corn cycle to develop. I confirmed this during a quick tour up Scottie's the Thursday before, where low-mid elevation N/NE facing was locked up and cruddy. (The type of conditions that make you feel like an even worse snowboarder than you actually are) </p><p>After sustained high pressure and a forecasted high of 70 in the valley, I finally settled on Box Elder's NW Couloir. Aside from being in the revered Chuting Gallery (which admittedly adds value to any descent in the Wasatch), the line's position seemed reasonable for the conditions at hand. Hard refreezes overnight, high valley temps, and lots of wind from the SW. I reasoned that the snow in the NW aspect at that elevation would be firm but soft enough for edging in with confidence, and that if I arrived a bit too late it may soften up with afternoon heat. It turns out I was more or less right, although I think we could've waited it out at the top a bit for even better riding conditions. Alas, this was a fun descent and I would say an even more fun approach/egress based on the delightful spring weather and a pleasantly dry trail. </p><p>The day started at around 7:45 at the Dry Creek Trailhead just outside of Alpine. The trail walking went fast and we cached our running shoes 2.5 miles. Soon after we were skinning beneath Box Elder's NW Basin with the line in our sights, as well as the south faces of Lone, White Baldy, the Pfieff, Chipman, Bighorn, and the rest of the peaks along that ridge line to our north. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBAvsT5wul1g9SKcASqm7-sV47jcOGEoUacCkS7B8vcdtVsQbSf9JKLa4EBVKM21imQvZdUEWSA02RqH1CSsJVmMzLHLaCTCGHP_o8Hnt63eMB6CJTfq62FywaY7u2mWU4zJGUZtQ0cCN6/s4000/IMG_2001.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2250" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBAvsT5wul1g9SKcASqm7-sV47jcOGEoUacCkS7B8vcdtVsQbSf9JKLa4EBVKM21imQvZdUEWSA02RqH1CSsJVmMzLHLaCTCGHP_o8Hnt63eMB6CJTfq62FywaY7u2mWU4zJGUZtQ0cCN6/w400-h225/IMG_2001.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The White Baldy complex from the south</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLD5LZzqT_93FgDMCN0TzBx0ZJ26IvJ35Wf-LTR-fJ3miv9Aa5TvdFS2sWQuFkkHdfcKcLzUziosI_0Hg-wDHYJvKxR9miSfrbxaK2eE_0sq0Zsbg4Km-7_pwppyiCXNLEUj869-hGZFFR/s4000/IMG_1999.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2250" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLD5LZzqT_93FgDMCN0TzBx0ZJ26IvJ35Wf-LTR-fJ3miv9Aa5TvdFS2sWQuFkkHdfcKcLzUziosI_0Hg-wDHYJvKxR9miSfrbxaK2eE_0sq0Zsbg4Km-7_pwppyiCXNLEUj869-hGZFFR/w400-h225/IMG_1999.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Pfieff and Airplane Peak from the south</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH8TvjrGFuIbeyppY6Vc5TQOimFr7aGo02XU4y4yqKPqqWlwViprsknJMQS9C41mbd0rgVOFkTJY-eVXOBkRrs_OcmePrG8mYJIxpsTuOoKqSXsSGhB8ks9LhpKkrkY8zm1tf8j3DKj_wr/s4000/IMG_1998.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2249" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH8TvjrGFuIbeyppY6Vc5TQOimFr7aGo02XU4y4yqKPqqWlwViprsknJMQS9C41mbd0rgVOFkTJY-eVXOBkRrs_OcmePrG8mYJIxpsTuOoKqSXsSGhB8ks9LhpKkrkY8zm1tf8j3DKj_wr/w400-h225/IMG_1998.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chipman, Bighorn, and Lone from the South</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>We deliberated a bit on Box Elder's lower NW flanks, deciding whether to take the longer but perhaps more tolerable NE ridge to the summit, or go for the more direct NW ridge with the Shotgun Chutes skinner's left. We chose the more direct NW ridge, which was quite the pain in the ass. Suffice to say ski crampons have officially moved up several notches in my late season ski wishlist. Based on the conditions, I think it would have been faster to skin up the NE ridge and take advantage of the snow softening up on those aspects. Even still it wasn't a huge setback-- just annoying. </p><p>After emerging from the trees the skinning improved temporarily, but Box Elder's N ridge was jacked by the wind, so skinning continued to prove challenging. After a while I gave up and threw my aluminum crampons on. I'm sure it was slower than skinning with ski crampons, but it got the job done. </p><p>While working our way to the summit, we eyed a line off of Box Elder's NE aspect. It looked like a mighty fine steep bowl funneling down into a chute and into a cliff band. The snow felt good and soft on this aspect but we both knew nothing about this descent and whether it even went. It'd be fun to scope from the bottom and potentially give this a go on a different day. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcezSNPPNMOIr0Oa7clY-cPvYg61eNWAHEC_m7JBC7eC-SH1ApADTNl1dUn2SdV-os9WjMuGO6d5gc9JWDT3euU6kjmS7b6zSOPm_P9_Nv8gmBIsiBhYed9BmVo5GXp_q_56EdRi14BPU9/s4000/IMG_2002.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2250" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcezSNPPNMOIr0Oa7clY-cPvYg61eNWAHEC_m7JBC7eC-SH1ApADTNl1dUn2SdV-os9WjMuGO6d5gc9JWDT3euU6kjmS7b6zSOPm_P9_Nv8gmBIsiBhYed9BmVo5GXp_q_56EdRi14BPU9/w400-h225/IMG_2002.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Box Elder's wind jacked N ridge</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br />We were at the top in around 4:30. I'm not sure I could reach the summit much faster than that— especially this time of year with firmer conditions— but who knows. While transitioning I made a blunder and forgot to jam my bindings into the snow. One of them went for a twenty foot ride off of the summit. Just as it sped further down and potentially into the ether, I made a diving catch (crampons on) and saved it. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Lesson learned: nothing comes out of the pack on a summit unless it's firmly planted in the snow. If I lost that binding, managing the descent may have been all but impossible. I do carry a passel of Voile straps, so maybe there could've been some solution. I shudder to think of what that would've looked like though. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5qfB6efZkQ1EniZJ4aBjGCi6e431pO2x5-6wNyy5mg2VsZfXPGWhyphenhyphen4bPKV21uUjvvZdhurPMxFNRkIB19_gzYeor88xQgJfQyIDnZVMd00kftvuDu2smVzX4oC3VpAwwTvxSGJ4a3xXUa/s3933/IMG_2003.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2212" data-original-width="3933" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5qfB6efZkQ1EniZJ4aBjGCi6e431pO2x5-6wNyy5mg2VsZfXPGWhyphenhyphen4bPKV21uUjvvZdhurPMxFNRkIB19_gzYeor88xQgJfQyIDnZVMd00kftvuDu2smVzX4oC3VpAwwTvxSGJ4a3xXUa/w400-h225/IMG_2003.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Excellent views off of the summit. Note the metamorphosed striated cliff band in the center of the frame.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmdlsPti47zPzgJ1cKM2NYlffYloBh5NGedX7smKg5g6D3R9mDfKLyyYdZsQh0_ZW7JW8yM-qTkdI2EKogXh4M9dDamTCzCJXUXWowLEPp-WYnZarO7KXL8-V9yt7plc5dVOFFaaeGLwYs/s4000/IMG_2005.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmdlsPti47zPzgJ1cKM2NYlffYloBh5NGedX7smKg5g6D3R9mDfKLyyYdZsQh0_ZW7JW8yM-qTkdI2EKogXh4M9dDamTCzCJXUXWowLEPp-WYnZarO7KXL8-V9yt7plc5dVOFFaaeGLwYs/w400-h300/IMG_2005.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking NE above Box Elder's scoured summit</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfBG1ZrxVrw8JHU1QmQn55GzNNy26HCp0QvOEm3IVV2dQ66Jsu28w-QJbrpbYa70b0brp61rs-MT4ZO4CENvry1kOnCvxE8sJ4ioP3iq6YvqWpnP4TyLE_l1afPfZ9Qe7N_AfQCBV3Nu4h/s4000/IMG_2004.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfBG1ZrxVrw8JHU1QmQn55GzNNy26HCp0QvOEm3IVV2dQ66Jsu28w-QJbrpbYa70b0brp61rs-MT4ZO4CENvry1kOnCvxE8sJ4ioP3iq6YvqWpnP4TyLE_l1afPfZ9Qe7N_AfQCBV3Nu4h/w400-h300/IMG_2004.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down into the "couloir" proper</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>The descent off of the summit required some negotiating through rocks and small rock bands. I chose skier's right, and Scott chose the more aggressive skier's left. Good on him-- he picked his way through the tricky sections with aplomb. I'm just happy to be here!</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK4ngh7KLVvwQgeHWh13pI3-NlKcbXGz4oY85IZXr6z6k0Ce4l5EqvJIE4BNAssfiVBmve8GPXXfF-Tvv6u-CZuakKyRtJAp-EHKuvCWKuxII08UsKyKRx2pD1oVb37uTi36A5Th5gWUEY/s3013/IMG_2006.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2260" data-original-width="3013" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK4ngh7KLVvwQgeHWh13pI3-NlKcbXGz4oY85IZXr6z6k0Ce4l5EqvJIE4BNAssfiVBmve8GPXXfF-Tvv6u-CZuakKyRtJAp-EHKuvCWKuxII08UsKyKRx2pD1oVb37uTi36A5Th5gWUEY/w400-h300/IMG_2006.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scott working his way off of Box Elder's summit, with Happy Valley below</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>The first turn (especially the first heelside turn if you're a snowboarder) is always a doozy and this one was no exception. Luckily, conditions up high were relatively soft albeit a bit punchy. Once below the upper boney section, I was able to open it up and enjoy turns on marginal snow. Scott spotted a narrow little couloir toward the bottom of the descent and styled it. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL8td0SFNbB7VLE4C0__PjF5iur7awi2OxFoKm7IIJtK2gz9Pg6nVnRAxbPhCOOxAJk72xyb8EV3iLYqHGwTTc-9ICsPonfjBAVc9l2YUpjXwCO163TtbL4VNAKZA1qtmOiCLjXOfLZ8Xe/s2638/IMG_2007.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1979" data-original-width="2638" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL8td0SFNbB7VLE4C0__PjF5iur7awi2OxFoKm7IIJtK2gz9Pg6nVnRAxbPhCOOxAJk72xyb8EV3iLYqHGwTTc-9ICsPonfjBAVc9l2YUpjXwCO163TtbL4VNAKZA1qtmOiCLjXOfLZ8Xe/w400-h300/IMG_2007.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ticky tacky jump turns through a hairy section</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV0XEAVab1YJ-IhtUE8ouiXoxgMCD8RVfgutXnlgOCSY8u5ZEZUlOsUk7H8RkcIy8HefqOQjeF-rJI1MOVthjlJxdmm7DvxSE9oxYGmsOoglHkkdlN8_RzsZFZbtagYfY1uha8bSikW95s/s2752/IMG_2008.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2064" data-original-width="2752" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV0XEAVab1YJ-IhtUE8ouiXoxgMCD8RVfgutXnlgOCSY8u5ZEZUlOsUk7H8RkcIy8HefqOQjeF-rJI1MOVthjlJxdmm7DvxSE9oxYGmsOoglHkkdlN8_RzsZFZbtagYfY1uha8bSikW95s/w400-h300/IMG_2008.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Airplane wings through the crux</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-zd46WstWgdk5dtfwRj6e15K2ejOlyi6A87oaJT7Etu4yygMNLYfz1A7l2GCjcpcLGcH5nL-yyIpEgU_YtBneginbUgsiY1d_qvjMEwNtiCqGL8V8iikeL90VCfeBdmHAu5uAvsORiyg/s4000/IMG_2009.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-zd46WstWgdk5dtfwRj6e15K2ejOlyi6A87oaJT7Etu4yygMNLYfz1A7l2GCjcpcLGcH5nL-yyIpEgU_YtBneginbUgsiY1d_qvjMEwNtiCqGL8V8iikeL90VCfeBdmHAu5uAvsORiyg/w400-h300/IMG_2009.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emerging unscathed</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>This was my first big descent in marginal conditions with my Atomic Backland Pros. The boot felt good for most of the day but really hurt my heel (currently dealing with nasty Achilles inflammation) on the descent. Back to the drawing board (or bootfitter?)!</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbY1mDGGszjotiS0es0UterDR8dBudSpyM5xNdg1vRktRdbDcC47GP7LtAnFJqgfw7kfJOOFg-OPmWJFMXCa4ej9qTwF_GCMg7JvkID9kwiOY2Xliio6miaU1UwtOoptOt30CBuqaiF_H4/s4000/IMG_2010.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbY1mDGGszjotiS0es0UterDR8dBudSpyM5xNdg1vRktRdbDcC47GP7LtAnFJqgfw7kfJOOFg-OPmWJFMXCa4ej9qTwF_GCMg7JvkID9kwiOY2Xliio6miaU1UwtOoptOt30CBuqaiF_H4/w400-h300/IMG_2010.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The day warming up with much of the descent behind us</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj05H6aANtzPsQ4ArsPm_Qo98k5CN6Fcgb-GsF8iQvOWyYy3MdjKcn26A33gVLiTau5ie3xDE6n2yTtCSNA8-tUF9p6h_euSGuuyC4EgjbmjrAW4GHoRDyMvgqUmUHM2-6C58opx4A9qbTY/s1832/IMG_2012.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1374" data-original-width="1832" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj05H6aANtzPsQ4ArsPm_Qo98k5CN6Fcgb-GsF8iQvOWyYy3MdjKcn26A33gVLiTau5ie3xDE6n2yTtCSNA8-tUF9p6h_euSGuuyC4EgjbmjrAW4GHoRDyMvgqUmUHM2-6C58opx4A9qbTY/w400-h300/IMG_2012.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm the speck on the bottom right third of the frame. Box Elder's NW basin is stunning</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>We made soft, slushy fall-line turns down a gully that led us right back to our running shoes. Ideal. We transitioned out of ski mode and into hike mode about 6 hours in. Historically this has been the part of a spring mission where I'm cooked and absolutely ready to be done with the day. Thankfully my fitness is lining up nicely and I was able to enjoy the leisurely hike down Dry Creek in the warm weather. This being my first time skiing in the Happy Valley, I was charmed to hear one local at the trailhead say, "Holy Guacamole!" when we told him that we did in fact go skiing today. We were back to the truck in 7 hours. </p><p>Thoughts:</p><p>- The NW Couloir of Box Elder is not much of a "couloir" so to speak since it lacks the tight, walled-in nature that I typically associate with couloirs. I would call it more of a face or a bowl. Regardless, its position is excellent and the boney/cliffy skiing off of the summit makes it engaging enough to feel like there are some consequences involved. </p><p>- The excitement for spring skiing missions is at an all-time high right now. Typically I start to think about rock climbing and mountain running around this time, but things seem different this year. Maybe it was the rampant instability of the early season that left us relegated to mellower days along the Park City Ridgeline... or perhaps I'm just getting better and more dialed at this whole splitboarding thing. </p><p>- Dry Creek is a beautiful drainage and there are plenty of diversions and sights to see. I picture spending more time back here in all seasons— especially mid-winter camping when stability is right. It's kind of amazing how one drainage south of LCC feels like it's "out there." I suppose that's what the Central Wasatch will do to you. </p><p>- Admittedly I am not too stoked on many objectives in the Central Wasatch as far as spring skiing goes (with the exception of some stuff in White Pine). I think this tour heralds an urge to venture further afield and access zones that are harder to reach during the winter.</p>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-6889190194788547112021-03-22T07:08:00.004-07:002021-03-22T07:08:38.643-07:00Cardiff-Day's Fork 3/21<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEs0y4nhGskNU50MQcuy0CGmozdmLqFFE3M63Edx728175eQ0Ydfgr1Fzlh7AmyA5K1XOIcNvzDGCmj6FXlxs2FSUwq45uxNNmd0g43DQxYQ0UqN4tZgaI2VRAeIEf9stWfoirsq7_qjEM/s2175/IMG_1830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1631" data-original-width="2175" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEs0y4nhGskNU50MQcuy0CGmozdmLqFFE3M63Edx728175eQ0Ydfgr1Fzlh7AmyA5K1XOIcNvzDGCmj6FXlxs2FSUwq45uxNNmd0g43DQxYQ0UqN4tZgaI2VRAeIEf9stWfoirsq7_qjEM/w400-h300/IMG_1830.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lane in Benson & Hedges</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>On Sunday, March 21, the first day of spring, I set out for a proper day of steep powder riding in the Wasatch; the first this season, as a rare-for-the-Wasatch PWL issue muddied most ambitious plans up until recently. I was accompanied by Nick and Lane, who both rallied after a long week of skiing in the Tetons and ripping the resort, respectively. </p><p>I knew the conditions were going to be good but the storm kept delivering and my expectations were greatly exceeded. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwzNa2o-7D4tzvlVfkU26zh6O9KvfX2yFudBuNM8lozdRhEi7wYHdEs0V6VOg0qkH8wkheq3eGud6WPINbpxtLmfflE_2BryIBtQj-g8rupswiELwQvM4IwXx7Db-ccrCBd4a0OS1Ch2ui/s2990/IMG_1845.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2990" data-original-width="2242" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwzNa2o-7D4tzvlVfkU26zh6O9KvfX2yFudBuNM8lozdRhEi7wYHdEs0V6VOg0qkH8wkheq3eGud6WPINbpxtLmfflE_2BryIBtQj-g8rupswiELwQvM4IwXx7Db-ccrCBd4a0OS1Ch2ui/w300-h400/IMG_1845.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The not so elusive Benson & Hedges Couloir</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>We left the TH at around 7:40 and were at the bottom of Benson and Hedges a little earlier than 9. We waited around on the apron to let the first party clear and then began the booter. While booting, another party came in from the top. Not usually a big deal but the first skier was rad enough to spray us with snow on his way down. Luckily, his partner apologized for him, but let me tell ya, he was this close to getting a snowball straight to the noggin'. The Wasatch can be a proper zoo sometimes. </p><p>From the top we negotiated a short section of rocky snow and the rest of the couloir was patchy deep powder atop old avalanche debris. Just manky enough to make you take your time but deep enough for it to feel fun. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg59veFTsw6hjfC7Z0PNswSmR2aEpygN5KSKfDdfpmuVe_IjQURRH3kOPfjSmx3Ie6fzGrmJrkHK411nlgDIO3qOOSE3dLwThqQUEwrYJjayeLIiDCAgblma-6qKQyZv7jggIQkOgJu3t9K/s4000/IMG_1829.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg59veFTsw6hjfC7Z0PNswSmR2aEpygN5KSKfDdfpmuVe_IjQURRH3kOPfjSmx3Ie6fzGrmJrkHK411nlgDIO3qOOSE3dLwThqQUEwrYJjayeLIiDCAgblma-6qKQyZv7jggIQkOgJu3t9K/w400-h300/IMG_1829.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big Nick ready to drop</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjXgqv3VvpYbE2EHScMIXTzP8Zxj81oKcHihQCxwxKcaHRaqPQ_UHCdzPhbNu2Vh7QucLWLsaQmWp9hjcwdtCWyFQoV5zDVe7NMwWy-SBSmCJE95QvH22CHrE8-BHq8OlCT_rE4n7UZM5I/s2666/IMG_1831.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1999" data-original-width="2666" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjXgqv3VvpYbE2EHScMIXTzP8Zxj81oKcHihQCxwxKcaHRaqPQ_UHCdzPhbNu2Vh7QucLWLsaQmWp9hjcwdtCWyFQoV5zDVe7NMwWy-SBSmCJE95QvH22CHrE8-BHq8OlCT_rE4n7UZM5I/w400-h300/IMG_1831.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nick entering Benson and Hedges</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>The apron was some of the best powder riding of the season, and the only thing that could've made it better was goggles. I didn't anticipate a low pressure day so I left the goggles in the truck, but lesson learned: keep em in the pack. </p><p>After the apron, we reversed course and headed back up the booter for a run into Days. After some deliberation we traversed further south and skied Days Draw proper, which was dreamy, playful, and so wonderfully deep. The nice thing about slide path/tree skiing is that it's so straightforward and fun! </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijqXQpzy3QkzEFfnkrujljtFKtIXVDWpLdNMS2tF0z_neUJqi-XS72QBrw9jtnWIj8-Hf_xo6csN5zY4Wc_E-63ywlTwokSwg9_jKaiDrezc9D_Hu3jC5yxNTBNfftJjlueoyFJ3J88bEu/s2390/IMG_1834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1792" data-original-width="2390" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijqXQpzy3QkzEFfnkrujljtFKtIXVDWpLdNMS2tF0z_neUJqi-XS72QBrw9jtnWIj8-Hf_xo6csN5zY4Wc_E-63ywlTwokSwg9_jKaiDrezc9D_Hu3jC5yxNTBNfftJjlueoyFJ3J88bEu/w400-h300/IMG_1834.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spring in the Wasatch</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhuJFDzliX46FVJxMcPn35DiWzzd3W8h69JTHrvzzL2y4kR-tS3OC26QreSBivplMCerudOWInL1XJDAyOdlrUNDf7V-PYgV_m9Lyu0xo2WzOwZiDjEXcUurEEAqt_cmiVdsmlx3i0Ox84/s3023/IMG_1837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2267" data-original-width="3023" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhuJFDzliX46FVJxMcPn35DiWzzd3W8h69JTHrvzzL2y4kR-tS3OC26QreSBivplMCerudOWInL1XJDAyOdlrUNDf7V-PYgV_m9Lyu0xo2WzOwZiDjEXcUurEEAqt_cmiVdsmlx3i0Ox84/w400-h300/IMG_1837.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Freeride Lane about to get technical</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>From the bottom of Days Draw it was heads down to the top of Main Days. The sun came out for the first time that day and we all threw on anti-glop and de-layered. This was short-lived, and we were back into storm mode within the half hour. This particular 2.5k climb took a bit out of me for some reason, so I plodded along behind Lane and Nick and dealt with some gastrointestinal issues along the way. So it goes. I'm still 4/4 in not needing to poop in LCC/BCC, so that's something to be proud of. </p><p>From the top of Main Days we dropped into Hallway. Lane skied it this past weekend and opted for the high entrance to spice things up. From the lower entrance, Nick and I watched as Lane negotiated the small, mandatory cliff. Any skis are rock skis if you try hard enough!</p><p>Hallway is excellent moderate couloir skiing. This was my favorite run of the day. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEAJGDABZhuyM3XNBqe_Q9aLXWnC7XB76ikt36jVwYLdF8KdEZnBMT3m8gMDGUxqNq7q6Tv2DffzpvW-Z5JmOxtceWF3ZDf2DvOwycyKS22ckJokxoV1MauYrAIQE22SK10XRFAbMkBSDK/s3398/IMG_1838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2548" data-original-width="3398" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEAJGDABZhuyM3XNBqe_Q9aLXWnC7XB76ikt36jVwYLdF8KdEZnBMT3m8gMDGUxqNq7q6Tv2DffzpvW-Z5JmOxtceWF3ZDf2DvOwycyKS22ckJokxoV1MauYrAIQE22SK10XRFAbMkBSDK/w400-h300/IMG_1838.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Freeride Lane anxious to scratch the hardware</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD3V9BKObF5y8tjHRqCdOVrv1e-F8oDWmlIAsbbQ0sJWm_J9kifuSI7bPCsVEm56ONqJUrcbgXnCW0E15cd3v7kKYpQ_QcSeRROtEeh-HQ9nBTzokpOSq5plL81Vrc0-n04IJyRxIr2E7q/s2562/IMG_1839.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1922" data-original-width="2562" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD3V9BKObF5y8tjHRqCdOVrv1e-F8oDWmlIAsbbQ0sJWm_J9kifuSI7bPCsVEm56ONqJUrcbgXnCW0E15cd3v7kKYpQ_QcSeRROtEeh-HQ9nBTzokpOSq5plL81Vrc0-n04IJyRxIr2E7q/w400-h300/IMG_1839.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nick in the goods</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5P63SRTzPBTvIsZ_fRPZWYpYLoqqbEtL1q2HOgW4JxHWPNCxJ4jAEDRVm_SSZA1ALFsyZ7mwgWTI6GZ9DZBdVIwVNb1odUm66FFlR4_n_TDxfqzQrQvuCFFIcfPgtfZ7Y2iY30yiIgkF2/s3905/IMG_1827.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3905" data-original-width="2929" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5P63SRTzPBTvIsZ_fRPZWYpYLoqqbEtL1q2HOgW4JxHWPNCxJ4jAEDRVm_SSZA1ALFsyZ7mwgWTI6GZ9DZBdVIwVNb1odUm66FFlR4_n_TDxfqzQrQvuCFFIcfPgtfZ7Y2iY30yiIgkF2/w300-h400/IMG_1827.HEIC" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of gnarled pine in upper Days/Cardiff</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge9LfAV7_qVrcjpjHVSwmkTaI3UGwFumfcSPXUQTYvFKFxi-Ku3WevTUi-u18E2YbDjkVJ-M1I8Ja2Z_xWQSD2HfrgVssu8MiMAssxm1kJWH5CbFKBB52dxiGuvTzaPtNccujjvSW7wTZh/s2624/IMG_1842.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2624" data-original-width="1968" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge9LfAV7_qVrcjpjHVSwmkTaI3UGwFumfcSPXUQTYvFKFxi-Ku3WevTUi-u18E2YbDjkVJ-M1I8Ja2Z_xWQSD2HfrgVssu8MiMAssxm1kJWH5CbFKBB52dxiGuvTzaPtNccujjvSW7wTZh/w300-h400/IMG_1842.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>After Hallway we set up toward the Ivories. It seems that with these two the last climb of the day is always a slog and today was no exception. Lots of trailbreaking and a bit of navigating in ping pong ball visibility to the ridgeline wore me out some, but I was happy to be on top of Mid Ivory and ready to rip. The sun came out for the second time of the day in a big way, exposing the beautiful west-facing cliffs of Cardiff and also allowing me to open it up sans-goggles. Another great powder run. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Ob0mIhijanYqq-Kc70U0-QYk_b7JWHenOICLQJPOoeKRT7bYk1yB9e9Z_WUrESu1k2_eKpkdtFZZUoL6HKUswxGWuL4rImFpUPrK3-iUU_fB3MpzonkiTfC-qudbbSGmEHV9RtGkWSIw/s2785/IMG_1843.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2089" data-original-width="2785" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Ob0mIhijanYqq-Kc70U0-QYk_b7JWHenOICLQJPOoeKRT7bYk1yB9e9Z_WUrESu1k2_eKpkdtFZZUoL6HKUswxGWuL4rImFpUPrK3-iUU_fB3MpzonkiTfC-qudbbSGmEHV9RtGkWSIw/w400-h300/IMG_1843.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9FvrNvJZrt2CWTibl7y4G_YGuhVQxKVLvl9jrFrw83qfSneEnW4d2imPDtPeDO9oyONV2cfqRWLQqSayA0hXzPpn4ktsn1kvnBx6xI9dLlzK1YngSJhjY6ydv2WIVpl1aNaK6M3yqJkB5/s4000/IMG_1844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9FvrNvJZrt2CWTibl7y4G_YGuhVQxKVLvl9jrFrw83qfSneEnW4d2imPDtPeDO9oyONV2cfqRWLQqSayA0hXzPpn4ktsn1kvnBx6xI9dLlzK1YngSJhjY6ydv2WIVpl1aNaK6M3yqJkB5/w400-h300/IMG_1844.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>After a mellow splitski down the Cardiff Fork road, we were back at the car in around 10 hours. The first day of spring well spent. </div>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-83342190784486867552021-03-12T14:30:00.002-08:002021-03-12T14:30:34.165-08:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgejlNaQbxgwe920hyphenhyphenLUZKSIjTQCYXi86pDJkOBtYhY8DLUA_PqzsmqWFdpb4YH5ba3XoTLijKP5Dh1_gdNR0pZZUO3SJcXnSCYWhrTxFaMWyteB5BAFmLEnQn86-1iYutLoCDZkVOhTaJ5/s2048/IMG_1776.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgejlNaQbxgwe920hyphenhyphenLUZKSIjTQCYXi86pDJkOBtYhY8DLUA_PqzsmqWFdpb4YH5ba3XoTLijKP5Dh1_gdNR0pZZUO3SJcXnSCYWhrTxFaMWyteB5BAFmLEnQn86-1iYutLoCDZkVOhTaJ5/w400-h300/IMG_1776.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-61945170480676066482021-02-23T18:35:00.005-08:002021-02-23T18:35:50.339-08:00<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpX6VvoEvJmfCQgLYYq20o2Gv5wTHxmIg7M4JMpm6_fWfUbwfaJ3VfUpwHk3eK9ebspSPZ3gB_TOtd6h-Us3jMnAvUHfcL1IdFgBNRpUhDzWDZJtlEaS5BYFxyjufr8vrvRPS84ExCjtok/s3496/DSC07252_Original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2331" data-original-width="3496" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpX6VvoEvJmfCQgLYYq20o2Gv5wTHxmIg7M4JMpm6_fWfUbwfaJ3VfUpwHk3eK9ebspSPZ3gB_TOtd6h-Us3jMnAvUHfcL1IdFgBNRpUhDzWDZJtlEaS5BYFxyjufr8vrvRPS84ExCjtok/w400-h266/DSC07252_Original.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo by Lane Aasen</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-26332668380128548982021-01-16T08:18:00.000-08:002021-01-16T08:18:06.771-08:00<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlTpBUvWUsV7LQFyc6Jg3d3Cx08FRRjGdBCBD99FK67wfepQE6lvTl0U6ac7vknakSx44MvTw1eUviyqbshKCMtT5HP1uFgY07ae7Gts0RxseMSC8v9RZAlnS4L8ylsswwUormruCMAKwK/s2048/3B80CC26-262A-40AA-B6B1-F4C4783B819A.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlTpBUvWUsV7LQFyc6Jg3d3Cx08FRRjGdBCBD99FK67wfepQE6lvTl0U6ac7vknakSx44MvTw1eUviyqbshKCMtT5HP1uFgY07ae7Gts0RxseMSC8v9RZAlnS4L8ylsswwUormruCMAKwK/w400-h300/3B80CC26-262A-40AA-B6B1-F4C4783B819A.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-84983255923860726832021-01-05T07:54:00.002-08:002021-01-05T07:54:14.254-08:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8RYhAF1LJXb5BY7psyZM8Kd_zYZaCdqU6ldUGnRbgTAMSvevlnmjS53hchTxifokPamhgBiwi45rvcLZKVADO184d0FXBOm_wA1wYSiUwhM6BU5ktjpiKifL4YVM4CIWdrigAc427yTxq/s2048/IMG_1328.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8RYhAF1LJXb5BY7psyZM8Kd_zYZaCdqU6ldUGnRbgTAMSvevlnmjS53hchTxifokPamhgBiwi45rvcLZKVADO184d0FXBOm_wA1wYSiUwhM6BU5ktjpiKifL4YVM4CIWdrigAc427yTxq/w400-h300/IMG_1328.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-43532701054111205952020-11-22T17:42:00.006-08:002020-11-23T06:15:13.635-08:00Northern Swell 50K<p>Once again I found myself executing a bonehead adventure with my bud Nick.</p><p>This time we decided to head down to the northern San Rafael Swell for a full value day of linking several wonderful sections of wilderness in the Sid's Mountain area. We were both somewhat familiar with the terrain, as I had spent some time earlier this year exploring the first section of the run, while Nick had some experience in what would be the latter portion of the run. </p><p>The first weeks of November had me frothing to go splitboarding, but the snow situation deteriorated rapidly. As the week rolled on, it was apparent that Utah and most of the Intermountain West would remain high and dry after an otherwise promising start to winter, so splitboarding would have to wait. Thus, heading down south seemed like a reasonable thing to do. </p><p>Nick and I shot several plans back and forth, pored over some maps, and agreed on a relatively casual but long-ish 20-25 mile run. I am woefully out of running shape and anticipated a limping finish, but nevertheless was stoked to get down into the desert and further explore an area that continues to capture my interest. </p><p>On the drive in, we passed by the newly minted BLM Sid's Mountain Wilderness signs. Last time I was here, it was still a wilderness study area. Nice. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLwEC-__7Jcn_yKyq-58Q9hU2tFTGjuUrVJNsbJ3t_av5AGe_Ea4UZtLp_qluAjDUa-xLYnV_YeytkSr5YOslbhrZ8z55ueFzRSvUg_JAwvfRc2BD6-KhuWb6X31sP2LFNqbjbIttzpAbM/s4032/62766331535__26F680AC-F349-46CB-A901-150088F771D9.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLwEC-__7Jcn_yKyq-58Q9hU2tFTGjuUrVJNsbJ3t_av5AGe_Ea4UZtLp_qluAjDUa-xLYnV_YeytkSr5YOslbhrZ8z55ueFzRSvUg_JAwvfRc2BD6-KhuWb6X31sP2LFNqbjbIttzpAbM/w400-h300/62766331535__26F680AC-F349-46CB-A901-150088F771D9.HEIC" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crisp, cloudless. Perfect late autumn desert running weather.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>We left the truck around 8 AM and made quick time descending into the bottom of North Salt Wash. I was pleasantly warm as we jogged at a comfortable pace, hopping back and forth across the wash and passing several small beaver dams. </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbPMX1_YDOK6_eTFQmX3ZB7lapt5h0D2UIhyphenhyphenb3xjWw5Z7I6thhhVkG2m_fwWvnAIPmGwn_bIgG5i61aee1rrWsDCEocH1KZN5K1fQ7N_YMj55VBE8E7rr0fzZfsG0lMqgQoeDpDDwKe2oq/s4032/IMG_1035.HEIC"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbPMX1_YDOK6_eTFQmX3ZB7lapt5h0D2UIhyphenhyphenb3xjWw5Z7I6thhhVkG2m_fwWvnAIPmGwn_bIgG5i61aee1rrWsDCEocH1KZN5K1fQ7N_YMj55VBE8E7rr0fzZfsG0lMqgQoeDpDDwKe2oq/w400-h300/IMG_1035.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><div><br />We followed cairns up to Sid's Mesa, climbing the slickrock terraces at a steady pace. Soon after topping out on the nondescript mesa (which lacks any real trail save for a pack trails), we gained our bearings and headed southeast to Sid's proper. Running through cedars on the mesa was probably the most type-1 part of the day. Just classic high desert cruising on open mesa. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-YZdyxVrbiXYpnd5T5QI5aMhYOilFff8C4hAp6Pgyio2kTD3Gee8U1Xplm52k1mtX84sIcJr15tB914ticRavqPU5CYoThFbuz566GVFY7RKRobu18efPYa_dVLecUCCTcLhqOnwDNFmG/s4032/IMG_1041.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-YZdyxVrbiXYpnd5T5QI5aMhYOilFff8C4hAp6Pgyio2kTD3Gee8U1Xplm52k1mtX84sIcJr15tB914ticRavqPU5CYoThFbuz566GVFY7RKRobu18efPYa_dVLecUCCTcLhqOnwDNFmG/w400-h300/IMG_1041.HEIC" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somewhere on the mesa, with Navajo sandstone domes in the back</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br />We made it to Sid's Cabin in great time, having taken no real breaks until then, and felt fit, energized, and stoked overall. I'd like to think that ol' Sid spent a lot of time up here on the mesa with nothing but his cows and thoughts. It's people like him that make me want to keep the headphones in the car on long outings like these. I wonder what he'd say about this whole wilderness area concept.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6oZ8dBfcFZ7q3Jmr2Vqg4KfZUv_lkbJBhZ1FYSyHjsW01Xt_zAqh3PWuWNHwouiW_-mYgNqwRHRIb8CeHlujTw780jzvT48qkEvKAsqAREstZus6AZ4uIuqeLbKoVUmZQYbsXom1MTLQt/s4032/IMG_1043.HEIC"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6oZ8dBfcFZ7q3Jmr2Vqg4KfZUv_lkbJBhZ1FYSyHjsW01Xt_zAqh3PWuWNHwouiW_-mYgNqwRHRIb8CeHlujTw780jzvT48qkEvKAsqAREstZus6AZ4uIuqeLbKoVUmZQYbsXom1MTLQt/w400-h300/IMG_1043.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyJvrifQif0lIISBqhawKlBbXgjVVfOMVo4qYusCyo1Jki9EX7La-yHnMMGZoX1mv3iye58LJsR4eUoz-cThNOfaZDm-mrW3hiMC_G7CF62bguyUr_bOQKtX1RTkpCdwRaGwk6MnRVEzFS/s4032/IMG_1047.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyJvrifQif0lIISBqhawKlBbXgjVVfOMVo4qYusCyo1Jki9EX7La-yHnMMGZoX1mv3iye58LJsR4eUoz-cThNOfaZDm-mrW3hiMC_G7CF62bguyUr_bOQKtX1RTkpCdwRaGwk6MnRVEzFS/w300-h400/IMG_1047.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>After poking around the old homestead and having a quick snack, we headed straight east toward the head of Virgin Spring Canyon. It was tempting to drop in here, but we stuck to the original plan and continued further along the rim to seek an entrance into Cane Wash. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_C36Hx9ldb10Cs8XqL4aTMEq9VBh7nLSyr47gBtGboNd4tbTGWV5_QYMmCwTaBBsv-UT6Az50JtxY_7LlgZY5hLKhi95n5LHZxX12V-l2_-zGrf9bqKDWh8lNMcSJYqOcNYmJz-V22LrL/s4032/IMG_1058.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_C36Hx9ldb10Cs8XqL4aTMEq9VBh7nLSyr47gBtGboNd4tbTGWV5_QYMmCwTaBBsv-UT6Az50JtxY_7LlgZY5hLKhi95n5LHZxX12V-l2_-zGrf9bqKDWh8lNMcSJYqOcNYmJz-V22LrL/w400-h300/IMG_1058.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>The southern rim of the "Little Grand Canyon" afforded expansive views across the flats and buttes below: Oil Well Flat, Limestone Bench, Window Blind Peak, all dusty and useless. I love every bit of it.</div><div><br /></div><div>We crossed an improbable section of canyon rim that pinches together between Virgin Springs Canyon and No Man's Mountain, and ambled our way along the rim searching for an entrance into Cane Wash. It turns out there's no obvious points of descent, but we found a saddle between Virgin Springs Canyon and Cane Wash that would lead to a somewhat convoluted descent. After a ~900ft descent into Cane Wash, we were off the mesa and in the cool, shady reaches of the canyon bottom.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8o24czYleuGqFB11WZgmkKNdoral67T6tbm3UMqdz1JyTOiCAPlDAsEB3g4MZmd50nXaK38on7QxBx1RJkIJd0bMSpunSugBl7WQj0__Rp38khXz1JvOP-cNHp7Vaura0839ErnPx1T5A/s4032/IMG_1063.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8o24czYleuGqFB11WZgmkKNdoral67T6tbm3UMqdz1JyTOiCAPlDAsEB3g4MZmd50nXaK38on7QxBx1RJkIJd0bMSpunSugBl7WQj0__Rp38khXz1JvOP-cNHp7Vaura0839ErnPx1T5A/w400-h300/IMG_1063.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Unfortunately, the aches, pains, and chafes came way earlier than scheduled. While I knew my body would break down at some point during this run (I had averaged only 7 mile weeks over the past few months), I was hoping to last a bit longer. </div><div><br /></div><div>After an extended break, some stretches, and a few Ibuprofens, I tried to jog along the sandy bottom of Cane Wash, but my IT bands were not having it. I felt great mentally and physically, but my knees were screaming. I was frustrated to say the least. Power hiking still felt fine, and we continued along the Wash Bottom at a fast hiking clip. </div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNzp46-XiSDA6RYB-vnsHWC0tJBIJy_PFVCOa4spG0X094IulUbr759r_t5ygn0cvKOB6QbFx_vvTaYnNG2_yZCK8ZVGrvdH_pg4QtF1dnKjnsETYgnb3zvFfSYfu0x2u-VFvFP-Ssw80f/s4032/IMG_1065.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNzp46-XiSDA6RYB-vnsHWC0tJBIJy_PFVCOa4spG0X094IulUbr759r_t5ygn0cvKOB6QbFx_vvTaYnNG2_yZCK8ZVGrvdH_pg4QtF1dnKjnsETYgnb3zvFfSYfu0x2u-VFvFP-Ssw80f/w400-h300/IMG_1065.HEIC" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little bit of jogging, a little bit of walking. OHV tracks through most of the wash. Blechkkk.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzmtlyYl2i3fQ7p3Kz0IG4wMYRwELb_kKIqSTkpdTCbdM5etFJH-XHsJVsvjfUN-1evI5n9Pms6O6zy5X17NGrNmWgigwX-xScv3LK5BmF9C1dfjoQsf8qfosqx-Za5eSmyoYiEcJDVCv/s4032/IMG_1066.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzmtlyYl2i3fQ7p3Kz0IG4wMYRwELb_kKIqSTkpdTCbdM5etFJH-XHsJVsvjfUN-1evI5n9Pms6O6zy5X17NGrNmWgigwX-xScv3LK5BmF9C1dfjoQsf8qfosqx-Za5eSmyoYiEcJDVCv/w400-h300/IMG_1066.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>We found a clear flowing stream midway through the wash. At this point, I was nearly out of water and decided to refill my bladder. The day before, I de-bunged my filter with some vinegar, but forgot to thoroughly rinse the vinegar out before packing it in my runner vest. In turn, the creek water tasted like old vinegar and was more or less undrinkable. The weather was cool enough to prevent any noticeable sweating, so I felt comfortable moving on without refilling the bladder. <br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfywCZqOVfqoCl1MTbK1vS_WktcLxBv_wknX8qOtaGcKZVyNUihT_maNZBtx05jhNHGs-klNg9sGSveO78ZncFtX4gBV2XtQPMnsgl9JUceVUDkUwVfLh625a9OQeb5blBxKj-JoBzBCkx/s4032/IMG_1068.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfywCZqOVfqoCl1MTbK1vS_WktcLxBv_wknX8qOtaGcKZVyNUihT_maNZBtx05jhNHGs-klNg9sGSveO78ZncFtX4gBV2XtQPMnsgl9JUceVUDkUwVfLh625a9OQeb5blBxKj-JoBzBCkx/w400-h300/IMG_1068.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgojo_qK-pA6bRhSm8eifBrYbzXxilYZCLTINa9V-BoiJ6oq1bP245Ha21wLo4Mx_A7LafWUFTdLBm1YP9jmZVqisiapEiXltfcVl9t3j_3glbkIPMBzyeqDHJ6zIkKAxOK7J6Uu533rRL9/s4032/IMG_1069.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgojo_qK-pA6bRhSm8eifBrYbzXxilYZCLTINa9V-BoiJ6oq1bP245Ha21wLo4Mx_A7LafWUFTdLBm1YP9jmZVqisiapEiXltfcVl9t3j_3glbkIPMBzyeqDHJ6zIkKAxOK7J6Uu533rRL9/w400-h300/IMG_1069.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMpUFtFYUzwNfvkaso2cReQdWF-GwSit4tlFbPkb5hrHJSLfRMgbwo3v_Uaw7FXEkYnGIb3_FQ-FlwQTuZzgrPRAwlOPci3k7xADmmyLU9URrjPH3vtk2W0pWgg6odr0BPsiLv5KADD2gY/s4032/IMG_1071.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMpUFtFYUzwNfvkaso2cReQdWF-GwSit4tlFbPkb5hrHJSLfRMgbwo3v_Uaw7FXEkYnGIb3_FQ-FlwQTuZzgrPRAwlOPci3k7xADmmyLU9URrjPH3vtk2W0pWgg6odr0BPsiLv5KADD2gY/w300-h400/IMG_1071.HEIC" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cane Wash inspires</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br />Right before exiting Cane Wash and heading into the San Rafael River proper, we ascended through a notch that split the sheer sandstone walls, saving ourselves some travel time. Daylight was still on our side, but we realized that we didn't have much of it left, and we probably would be finishing in the dark. Here's to hoping that the San Rafael River Stretch would go by quick!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Qe9sIEbHwO4VQJA2CuwBF0NnWaXXMA01WB6h7AR_pQp0f-rDHRhzTAN5YrHAzELlHzIHWa1s1eqbD2rVtclBk2tC5Zes9sa_2ZXU1lJl0haCD0C32G4YrMGFx_JEb__-4Z1yBv5RoBnU/s4032/IMG_1076.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Qe9sIEbHwO4VQJA2CuwBF0NnWaXXMA01WB6h7AR_pQp0f-rDHRhzTAN5YrHAzELlHzIHWa1s1eqbD2rVtclBk2tC5Zes9sa_2ZXU1lJl0haCD0C32G4YrMGFx_JEb__-4Z1yBv5RoBnU/w400-h300/IMG_1076.HEIC" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This notch seemed like a very obvious spot for early inhabitants/canyon travelers to convene</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br />The San Rafael River Stretch did not go by quick, and is the obvious contender for most type-2.5 fun of the day. At first it wasn't so bad, as we ambled through cattle pastures and along sandbars with empty dreams of getting to the mouth of North Salt Wash by dark. Soon, the pastures and sandbars became choked with brush and my legs started to get thrashed, so I switched back to spandex. A nice relief, and my IT band felt a bit better, so we managed some more jogging. After a while, though, the terrain became even more brushy, winding, and unfavorable to running, so we switched back to hiking. At current, we were at 20-25 miles, and realized that we would be covering much more ground than we had initially hoped. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin160kQAx7Ii9UUmeUN0-qiT7eqMkjCvZpPiO2XfKSnnor2pQWzwwIAz3LC0qoB6MgFwgglcETN6zXWy8rBEZUAo5zXxSK7N0eDqWg88LaBnPv05jlL5IbZi807-oKax4d48L3liwgE9i6/s4032/IMG_1079.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin160kQAx7Ii9UUmeUN0-qiT7eqMkjCvZpPiO2XfKSnnor2pQWzwwIAz3LC0qoB6MgFwgglcETN6zXWy8rBEZUAo5zXxSK7N0eDqWg88LaBnPv05jlL5IbZi807-oKax4d48L3liwgE9i6/w400-h300/IMG_1079.HEIC" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still type-1-ish, though with dwindling daylight</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsGHZo20RZJC_-8Fz0Th4mfQSya6LTHEgWLfozOHOfL80NxkQIUzVETxLeSFhpoKGBdfqRaAxUlzc88Dfk1IBrBD9UaoBnI9O4lsW3l-mh3DL51ifeUmKepm_I0y4FT_YLF3P_ritw5C56/s4032/IMG_1083.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsGHZo20RZJC_-8Fz0Th4mfQSya6LTHEgWLfozOHOfL80NxkQIUzVETxLeSFhpoKGBdfqRaAxUlzc88Dfk1IBrBD9UaoBnI9O4lsW3l-mh3DL51ifeUmKepm_I0y4FT_YLF3P_ritw5C56/w400-h300/IMG_1083.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOi5A2JAwWr5-dj-ljXpw_JSkpGW3DAd1De0YWETDpKVU8GvpQR8J3Py2i8fFuUJd8uN-1YAXfAEld3eEvFHe_WadqmdYGlKqc545BHcoGeNQUbIQqkMBHUlMGlo9IuDRn5DOY9VxTT5K6/s4032/IMG_1085.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOi5A2JAwWr5-dj-ljXpw_JSkpGW3DAd1De0YWETDpKVU8GvpQR8J3Py2i8fFuUJd8uN-1YAXfAEld3eEvFHe_WadqmdYGlKqc545BHcoGeNQUbIQqkMBHUlMGlo9IuDRn5DOY9VxTT5K6/w400-h300/IMG_1085.HEIC" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Less type-1</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br />We did as much canyon wall and riverbank skirting as we could, but we accepted the inevitable: we'd have to cross the San Rafael River. We were running out of daylight, and it didn't make sense to spend our time searching for improbable sneaks to avoid river crossings.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO2Gh19rk_ePxGCZm1dsd-qGsXLhU7yAo-S4ZWfDOVAk3pyNs2SJ-_pVvEF_9VFzTOKGv6X6EHHQp9Wm05kSvVNi0DH6D4sQtzMd82U3KNB2Hbw_UMGGGvINAFX2LUji0xLVWxnFTrlb12/s3088/IMG_1087.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2316" data-original-width="3088" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO2Gh19rk_ePxGCZm1dsd-qGsXLhU7yAo-S4ZWfDOVAk3pyNs2SJ-_pVvEF_9VFzTOKGv6X6EHHQp9Wm05kSvVNi0DH6D4sQtzMd82U3KNB2Hbw_UMGGGvINAFX2LUji0xLVWxnFTrlb12/w400-h300/IMG_1087.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>We moved as quickly as I felt we could. We knew that moving along the San Rafael River in the dark would be bad, since it was probably more than hip deep in parts. After a handful of icy river crossings, I started to become numb to the process (*ba-doom-ch*), and we pushed along, accepting nightfall and getting cold.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCXL5yG1LHcJ1gguRgmffepDagRkCKRrQbe7QT4eivb1BE4ch-Y-v5aP0ydcE_o_3MQ_KgiVhJKaG_7HAAdijdo9yCw5KNSn4Px6RtxjuXFIIQ1mEWrOhJFvroFEmpQ5s3dN2IzjV2xS8x/s4032/IMG_1091.HEIC"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCXL5yG1LHcJ1gguRgmffepDagRkCKRrQbe7QT4eivb1BE4ch-Y-v5aP0ydcE_o_3MQ_KgiVhJKaG_7HAAdijdo9yCw5KNSn4Px6RtxjuXFIIQ1mEWrOhJFvroFEmpQ5s3dN2IzjV2xS8x/w400-h300/IMG_1091.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /><br /></div><div>After the 6th crossing, we were very, very close to the mouth of North Salt Wash and dreaded the idea of crossing the river two more times. With the freezing cold creeping in and our fatigue levels rising, it seemed quite dangerous. After some canyon wall skirting, we reached a pinch point that edged off into what looked like a deep river pool, but we couldn't really tell by headlamp. Frustrated, we backtracked and searched for a means to get up onto the shelf above us. We found a climbable pourover and were soon sidehilling our way toward North Salt Wash.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ-blpnyWInPiMDfZUutJLnIJXY8B4wnGHn_8z67g7Hn8rCgNhh-WwbsfYVH9-_BvVpyBT5Qo6IkeNyLe0QPvN_CGtxGFHyLcgxKUiTvmrlJO_bTWYzq_b03SN35nCsOpAr8hc89LdVBbt/s4032/IMG_1093.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ-blpnyWInPiMDfZUutJLnIJXY8B4wnGHn_8z67g7Hn8rCgNhh-WwbsfYVH9-_BvVpyBT5Qo6IkeNyLe0QPvN_CGtxGFHyLcgxKUiTvmrlJO_bTWYzq_b03SN35nCsOpAr8hc89LdVBbt/w300-h400/IMG_1093.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div>We came across the first people we saw all day at the confluence of North Salt Wash and the San Rafael River. They had a camp set up and a small fire going. I was somewhat relieved to see them, but their words were anything but a relief: "North Salt Wash is a bit complicated and actually winds back and forth across the wash." Nick and I were hoping that North Salt Wash would be a breeze, so this was discouraging to say the least. </div><div><br /></div><div>I didn't even want to look at my map, knowing that it would do little to raise my spirits. Nick and I had a joke going, where Nick would occasionally look at the map and say, "We're making progress." Indeed. </div><div><br /></div><div>North Salt Wash was snowy overall, and we leapt across the narrow creek numerous times. We got turned around occasionally, but knew that staying more or less along the creek would bring us back to where we started our day. </div><div><br /></div><div>Cold, tired, sore as boils, we reached the North Salt Wash exit and started our climb up the slickrock and back to the unmarked TH I hadn't noticed how fatigued I was until this last climb. The final bit of walking felt dreamlike, and we were back at the truck in a little over 12 hours, cold and ready to eat. </div><div><br /></div><div>The entire route was entirely off trail (unless you count faint and inconsistent pack trails), and was the longest distance I've covered on foot in a single push to date. I am looking forward to more long distance desert efforts like this, but will do a bit more conditioning before the next one. </div><div><br /></div><div>The northern San Rafael Swell deserves all of the adoration, protection, etc. </div><div><br /></div><div>Total mi: 33</div><div>Total elev.: 3,366 ft. </div><div>Elapsed time: 12:18</div><div>Food: banana, gu, 3 chews, pro bar, 2 clif bars, 8 macaroons </div><div>Water: 1.5L</div><div>River Crossings: 6</div><div>Times Nick and I agreed that this was a "big ol' day": 50</div><div>Total amount of nut butter applied to the nether regions: 10 tbsps</div><div><br /></div><div>Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/4376552092</div>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751833164072347279.post-13896437184815240332020-11-15T05:41:00.004-08:002020-11-15T05:42:00.973-08:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX81QgCfdcWZU8krZwr4FOEJ-SKdVwpMUKQHOK9Adc33zCot0fA_XNIBnAR0aT3TpWjCwIRhpbkcBAPOWuQY4bdFb1tP0WnfyD8RcQH8F_hwTg15aMQ8ac4adPfpF1OoMKfjyNwPTJAIFf/s2048/IMG_1014.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX81QgCfdcWZU8krZwr4FOEJ-SKdVwpMUKQHOK9Adc33zCot0fA_XNIBnAR0aT3TpWjCwIRhpbkcBAPOWuQY4bdFb1tP0WnfyD8RcQH8F_hwTg15aMQ8ac4adPfpF1OoMKfjyNwPTJAIFf/w400-h300/IMG_1014.heic" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>JGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00304514273055288383noreply@blogger.com0