As Cloudveil thought about content for its fall catalog, due out by mid-September, they realized that what drives people to shop Inspired Mountain Apparel isn’t necessarily a love for our new colors or zippers or pockets (which are sweet), but a love for the place these items will be used. With that in mind, the company asked four writers to share their observations and stories from the shoulder season, the transition in the high country from summer into winter. With chilly mornings and sunny days here in Jackson Hole, we thought this would be a fine time to share those essays.

This one’s by Abby Sussman. Enjoy the crisp mornings, the frosty dawns and keep checking back for more experiences on this in between time in the high country.

As a backcountry ranger, my life hinges on the weather.

My season starts when the winter’s snowpack recedes to reveal avalanche lilies and releases slide alders, relieving them of their bowed posture. My term ends when the first heavy snow accumulates and rocky edges of alpine tarns grow a thin lens of ice.

I have spent all summer in this map quadrant, checking permits, dismantling fire rings and picking up Clif Bar wrappers. But the final patrol isn’t so much to ready the wilderness for my absence as to ready myself for absence from this wilderness.

On a crisp bluebird morning I wake to the crackling of heavy frost on my tent and a dusting of new snow on sharp ridges. The backpackers have completed their loops, the day hikers have gone home and even the best campsites are silently vacant.

A few remaining huckleberries are harvested for my oatmeal, and although they are mealy and have lost their sweetness, the fruit still holds the taste of sunlight. Uneasy winds stack clouds into the stratosphere and then scatter them suddenly in favor of blue sky, as I ascend the ridge to watch shadows lengthen in shortening daylight.

In the mountains, shifting seasons bring uncertainty. Freezing levels rise and fall on a whim, creeks swell with incessant rains and foot logs run rapids downstream. My trails—finally clean after a summer of housekeeping—are littered again with fallen branches. I, too, am in transition, my life a reflection of the wilderness I patrol.

While bears fatten up for hibernation, I line out my winter budget, tallying per diem and overtime, depositing a last paycheck only to make a withdrawal for a season pass. Vine maple leaves turn sunshine hues and drop to the forest floor, as I swap tank tops for a down puffy at the storage unit. Salmon swim upstream, returning home after a life at sea, half-dead and still fighting the current, while I book a flight for my own return trip home to the East Coast.

Before snow settles in, I will turn in my badge and nametag, trade starchy green uniform pants for off-duty jeans and trek out of this wilderness for the last time. When I come back in spring—if my position is still funded—snow will shrink from my meadows as I plan campsite restorations and report trail conditions. And the cycle will resume.

On the flanks of this crevassed volcano, her upper reaches obscured by clouds, I hoist my pack for the hike out and double check that I have not left a sock hanging or a tent stake in the ground. Turning to the trail, I pause, and like a parent closing the door to a sleeping child’s room, take a last glimpse at my charge before walking away.

The forecast for Salt Lake City is more of the same, sunny and hot with highs in the mid 90s. It is a bit surreal to be packing up ski gear and warm clothing including my uber toasty Down Patrol Jacket in August but very exciting. Steve Lloyd and I will be joining four other photographer/athlete teams to compete for a week in Portillo Chile’s Photo Challenge. Skiing magazine is teaming up with the resort Ski Portillo to put on the event.
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I recently took a trip up to a very special lake high in the Elk mountains of Colorado. The fishing was great and the views were spectacular. The highlight was definitely my journey chasing after a magnificent mountain goat. I became savage and connected to the great spirit, and hunted the agile and quick mountain goat with my camera; I was on a mission to get close enough to the goat to photograph it.

The graceful beast led me on an inspirational journey up steep scree fields and across thin ridges to a high peak with spectacular views. I became one with spirit and goat and meditated through a thunderstorm witnessing a rainbow materialize and the magic of nature, our mother earth, and the great spirit that is all of life. I found a new passion for mountain exploration and big mountain skiing,and found my new mentor, the mountain goat.

Cloudveil Ambassador Nick DeVore romps in the Rockies, takes phat photographs and happens to be one of - if not THE - best telemark skier in the entire world. FInd him online at NickDeVore.com.

Jackson Hole Mountain Resort, Hotel Terra and the new BeThree daily newsletter just announced their inaugural Women’s Eco Adventure Getaway.

It’s a girl-only thing and all it asks is for your first name, last name, email address and postal code. Then voilà, you’re entered to win three nights and three days in Jackson Hole, WY for you and three of your friends:

* Round trip air for winner plus three friends.
* Carbon offsets for your plane travel.
* Two rooms for Three nights at Jackson Hole’s new eco boutique Hotel Terra- on Travel + Leisure’s “It List.”
* Three days of skiing or snowboarding and riding the NEW TRAM .
* Organic spa treatments at the Chill Spa in Hotel Terra.
* A Hybrid Chevy Tahoe for your group to drive while in Jackson Hole.

The only downside, they say, is that the trip will come to an end. “But at least you’ll bask in heaven with three of your coolest girlfriends (all the while, not harming Mama Earth one weentsie little bit),” The ladies at Be Three say.

This is the same site with this Jackson Hole ad:

You can enter the contest as a Jackson resident, as well. Your carbon offset will be implicit in your presence in the valley already. Think about taking the START bus out to the Village before picking up the hybrid.

Sign-up for the Getaway sweepstakes closes on Sept. 30.

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.

Well now that my mountain biking career is off to a good start and I am sufficiently bruised and battered from some all-star falls and one fantastic over the handle-bars launch, I gave sport #2 a shot.

This past saturday I took a whitewater kayak clinic from Snake River Kayak and Canoe. My buddy Nick and I took the course together, since we are both complete beginners. Let me just say, I’m probably a little better than this little kayaking toddler, but NOT MUCH.

Our instructor, Mark Rector, started us out in the pool getting situated in the boats, doing wet exits, and practicing basic strokes, braces, and maneuvering. We then did a short roll class. For anyone that has never attempted a kayak roll, it is a bit trickier than it looks when you see someone do it on the river. I assumed as a chick, the “hip snap” would be a no brainer. I have hips and I know how to use them…. or so I thought.

This is what it is supposed to look like:

I assure you, neither of our rolls looked that smooth or effortless. After the pool we suited up and headed for Flat Creek, named rightly for being one of Jackson’s tamest waterways. The calm waters were perfect for practicing our pool moves with an actual current. We headed down the creek and practiced getting in and out of eddies, slicing carve turns, ferrying across the water, and a little bit of surfing. Then, about an hour later we rounded a turn and there it was, the mighty Snake River, raging in all of its post-epic-winter madness. I got a little nervous, and just like clockwork a few minutes after paddling into the middle of the Snake, I hit a wave the size of an oreo cookie, flipped over and swam.

A quick save by Mark and we were back on the river to the take-out. A great day of instruction, and a good first try at a fantastic sport with what seems like a very very slow learning curve (or maybe I’m just a very very slow learner). I definitely woke up with sore muscles I never knew I had, but had a blast.

For anyone interested in learning to kayak, Snake River Kayak and Canoe runs courses often, and you can book a private lesson anytime. They offer womens clinics, and multi-day trips as well.

Growing up, camping for me was a tent, some great hiking, a stove, and some gorp. Although I have become a bit of a gear slut as I have grown older and the camping experience has become a bit more cushy thanks to the help of the crazy creek chair, inflatable matresses, and even the backcountry espresso maker, I have never experienced anything like I did last weekend on the Lochsa River just outside of Missoula, MT.

Asked by a friend to join her family on their annual kayak trip, I figured it would be a great four day getaway in the backcountry and a chance to meet up with some friends I hadn’t seen in a while.

Little did I know that not only would the river be raging with class 3 and 4 whitewater, and the amount of people exploding off of rafts, duckies and kayaks at each rapid would require at least four or five safety boaters, but the Lochsa experience included much more than a tent and a stove.

It turns out the new essentials of camping require the following:
1) 12 bottles of various tequilas for tasting
2) Full costumes for nightly theme parties
3) iPod boom boxes and a generator to charge them
4) Pro kayak skills
5) Food to feed 30 at least four times a day
6) A wig collection, polyester pant suits, high heels, and cigars

After this, camping will never be the same in my eyes.