What I failed to emphasize in Friday’s post about photographing beautiful people in our glorious backyard blooms is how fortunate we are to live in a place where our biggest problem on a weekend is fitting in all the sports we’re going to do.

Last weekend, choices were even more abundant than usual, with Yonder Mountain String Band and the Demolition Derby headlining the annual Teton County Fair. Most of us had at least one corn dog and a ride on the zipper.

While folks celebrated summer at the Watermelon eating contest at the county fair, others spent the sunny days fishing or playing at the river with their pups. Several friends went up The Grand on Saturday, while I marked my first weekend back to Jackson by a scramble up Teewinot, the smallest Teton, with my friend Dylan Taylor. Dylan recently moved to Colorado for a job, but was back for the weekend. The Tetons are addicting in that way.

Teewinot seems easy because it’s short compared to the other mountains; certain people are even rumored to have run it in 45 minutes, while the guidebook recommends 6 - 8. Still, inexperienced and experienced climbers have gotten struck by lightning, hit by rocks and cliffed out while trying to reach the peak’s 12,325 foot summit. Or while descending.

Approaching it as a conditioning climb after several months away from the mountains and the sport, we started around 7:15 a.m. and headed up the trail toward the 18 switchbacks, rock ledges and snow.

While the snow looked abundant from the parking lot, it wasn’t until we were knee-deep kicking steps and plunging ice axes that we realized how much more snow there is up there now than in Julys past. That and a ranger on backcountry patrol told us as much. And the Jenny Lake Climbing Rangers Web site reports “Deepening runnel from summit notch down the east face. Now a mixed rock/snow climb.”

After the snow, which froze our ungloved left hands that we used for balance, we scrambled up some fourth class slabs to reach the summit where we spent an hour taking pictures, wearing funny sunglasses and marveling at the Grand’s grandeur and the speed of a party of three on Mt. Owen’s Koven Couloir (Cloudveil jacket namesake).

The view from the one-person summit monolith is, as Renny Jackson and Leigh Ortenburger describe, “sensational.” The airy summit drops off sharply into deep mountain valleys of rock and snow and one has perfect view of the north and east faces of the Grand.

The way down was made a bit slower by the addition of Joel to our team. He had left his friend below the snowfields and continued up alone. Hailing from Louisiana and inexperienced with exposed scrambling, Joel opted to join our team of two for the down climbing.

Turns out Joel is a US Army employee living in Abu Dhabi teaching local upper class 20-somethings how to fly F-16s. He was hoping to do the entire 10 peak Grand Traverse, or at least sections of it. He settled for the one mountain on Sunday.

(Note: The missing tooth has nothing to do with climbing. Dylan is awaiting an implant. Tried to shoot a portrait of the three of us on the summit.)

Back at the steamy car around 3 p.m., we took off our shoes and chugged warm Gatorade.

Sitting inside on the valley floor today, my calves are burned from ankles to knees. Ice and aloe make sitting barely bearable. Sore quads and sleepy eyes hinder productivity.

But, the cloudless sky, the snow in July and the company of an old friend with a massive collection of Cliff shots make the recovery worth it.

Looking forward to the next burn.

Blog Manager Lauren M. Whaley was out of the country, sitting at sea level, from April 3 through mid July Acclimating is fun, but brutal.

The market may be down, but McMansions in my neck of the woods are still topping a few million to start. Realtors with enough experience and clout to stand out in high-priced mountain towns like Jackson, Aspen, and Vail are pulling in some major commissions. One Vail agent has decided to start giving some of it back, and in doing so, will hopefully inspire others to rethink how all of the millions of dollars changing hands in the luxury real estate market can be put to good use.

After gaining valuable real estate experience at a small firm and then learning the large-scale marketing and advertising tactics of a large agency, 31 year-old Angela Rossi decided to go out on her own and started Rossi Realty in Vail, CO one year ago.

“A year into owning Rossi Realty, I realized that I had the opportunity to make a difference through real estate,” Rossi told me, “I no longer was confined to the commission structure of a large real estate company and could now choose where my commission was allocated.”

Rossi decided to give 10% of all of her commission back to a charity of the buyer or sellers choice.

“The reason for me putting the choice in my client’s hands is with the hope that through researching what they feel the most connected and passionate too, they will be more inclined to continue to be a part of that foundation.”

The decision to donate a portion of her commissions is just another step in a history of non-profit work for Rossi. She sits on the committee of local Vail non-profit, First Descents, a series of outdoor adventure camps for young adults with cancer. She also acts as a board member for the Central America Foundation, a local organization which provides aid, supplies and support in educational, medical and cultural arenas in Central America.

” My goal is not only to help provide financial aid to non-profits,” Rossi stated, “but to get the community of Vail involved in a more hands on way. I feel like sometimes people would like to give back but don’t know where to start, so I want to help my clients take a small step towards what could be a life time of giving back.”

For more information or questions, contact Angela at Angela@rossirealty.com or 970-376-4269

Cloudveil employees got it rough. Read More »

On the homepage of the New York Times this morning is a little story about the state of Wyoming and how the rough and tough spirit of the West may go deeper than we actually know. Writer, Kirk Johnson traces the history of Wyoming through a period of potential seccession that is little known.

Straight from the New York Times- SHERIDAN, Wyo. — In early 1939, as talk of war in Europe clouded the horizon and hard economic times gripped the nation, a group of business and political leaders in this northern Wyoming city hatched an audacious, if not quite ridiculous, plan to break off huge chunks of Wyoming, South Dakota and Montana and form a new state.

Editors at the Depression-era Federal Writers’ Project, which happened at the time to be combing the country for local color (and for writers as well, for a series of travel guides about the United States that are now coming online and enjoying a public revival of sorts), included the story in the Wyoming guide, published in 1941, as an example of ten-gallon cowboy eccentricity.

The tale of the would-be rebels, who called their new state Absaroka (pronounced ab-SOR-ka), from the Crow word meaning “children of the large-beaked bird,” then faded into the mist. Details were forgotten — how a baseball-player-turned-street-commissioner in Sheridan named A. R. Swickard appointed himself governor and began hearing writs of grievance, and how license plates were distributed along with pictures of Miss Absaroka 1939, the first and apparently last of her breed. There was even an Absarokan state visit, when the king of Norway made a swing through Montana.

But here is the great open secret of this part of the West: the frontier spirit of the state that never was lives on.
Read More »

Ever meet people who think that Jackson is some dusty old cowboy town in the middle of nowhere?
With Virtual Jackson hole, now you can actually show them what the local hot spots look like. There are virtual tours of every major spot in Yellowstone, Grand Teton Park, and downtown Jackson. You can even take a virtual view from the summit of the Middle Teton and Glory Bowl. So when you tell mom you took a “little hike” up to some backcountry skiing, she can see what a badass you are. You can even float the Snake River with Westbank Anglers.

All tours are filmed in High Definition, so the only way to get a better view is to be there yourself.
Check them out at www.virtualjacksonhole.com

Here is a screenshot of the 360 degree tour of Jackson Lake.

My favorite periodical ever published is a little quarterly called Timothy McSweeney’s. There are a number of McSweeney’s books in your local bookstore and you can also subscribe. The pages are filled with unabashed nonsensical humor, brilliantly tasteless jokes, political opinions wrapped in delightful banter, and most of all, just great writing.

One of the best parts of McSweeney’s though is a little section called McSweeney’s Lists. To pay homage to my favorite writers at McSweeney’s and give a little Friday laugh, here are a few of my own lists.

OUTDOORSY THINGS THAT IF GIVEN BRAINS COULD EASILY BAND TOGETHER AND TAKE OVER THE WORLD DUE TO SHEER NUMBERS ALONE

YKK Zippers
Croakies
Stuff sacks
Clif Bars
The word “gnar”
Those bobbles on ski hats

LESS POPULAR NAMES FOR SKI RUNS

Post Traumatic Stress Chute
MCL Blower
Yardsale Couloir
Ice Luge
Monoboards 4 Eva
Dios Mio, Ayudame!

POTENTIAL TITLES OF MY FUTURE AUTOBIOGRAPHY

Overdraft Insurance- A memoir
I Hate Toe Socks and Other Useless Facts About Sarah Hubbard
I’m From Kansas and I’m Not Stupid
I Was Cooler In Kindergarten Than I Am Now
I Learned To Drive On A John Deere- Sarah Hubbard, the Golden Years 1981-present
My Middle Name is Frances by Sarah Frances Hubbard

Hip towns like Boulder, Jackson, Aspen, Burlington, and Hood River always top Outside Magazines Best Towns list. They are top priority for road trippers, RV travelers, and vacationing tourists. They are packed with attractive, healthy, interesting people.

Well, after reading a fairly recent blog post by an intern at Outside (who should grow eyes in the back of her/his head) about how Kansas was the worst state to visit in the nation, being asked during my study abroad semester if we had doorknobs in Kansas, and my personal favorite, that I am asked at least once a month, “How did you ever find Colgate University from Kansas?”, I have reached the end of my rope, as my mom would say. It is about time, that all of you mountain folk learn a little bit about a little place called the heartland, because if Kansas were gone, the U.S. would look like a donut.

First things first, lets get the other Frequently Asked Questions out of the way: No, we don’t have any mountains, yes, there are bodies of water, yes we have doorknobs. yes it has been scientifically proven that Kansas is flatter than a pancake, no, its not like Footloose… we ARE allowed to dance, and finally, no my dad is not a farmer.

Now for our Kansas Appreciation Lesson. A little bit of history for you to start with.
Kansas City as one of the original hotbeds of Jazz. For all you people who equate Kansas with BORING, here is an excerpt from Ken Burn’s History of Jazz- “If you want to see some sin, forget about Paris,” said an editorialist for the Omaha Herald, “go to Kansas City.” Prohibition simply never existed in Kansas City. Not a single felony conviction for violating the Volstead Act, the law prohibiting the manufacture, transportation, sale, and possession of alcohol, was ever imposed on any of its citizens. Maybe this explains why I love cocktails so much..hmm. I digress.
Kansas City and the famous 12th and Vine district also fostered some of Jazz’s greatest names like Charlie Parker.

Stick on your bib and lick your fingers because Kansas is also home to some of the country’s best barbecue. There is a reason why the Kansas City Strip is on the menu at most major steakhouses and KC Masterpeice BBQ Sauce is one of the nations best sellers. My favorite joint is a a little place called Arthur Bryant’s- started in the 1920’s, the spot is known nation wide and was even sited in Playboy- “…the single best restaurant in the world is Arthur Bryant’s Barbeque at 18th & Brooklyn in Kansas City.”

Thirdly, Kansas weather could kick your state’s weather every day of the week and twice on Sundays. Any Kansan knows that when the sky turns green, the wind stops, and things get eerily quiet, some of the best storms you’ve ever seen are on their way.

My state is also home to two of the greatest groupings of people the world has ever known. First, a little team called the Kansas Jayhawks, who are sitting on the title of NCAA Men’s Basketball Champs.

Second, a little band called KANSAS. Lest I remind you of their most famous tune, Dust in the Wind, reincarnated by Will Ferrell in Old School.
Here is the acoustic video- Try not to cry. And no, I don’t know why the guitarist is wearing an eye patch.