I was nine beers into a PBR 12-pack watching the fire in that Mexican outdoor fireplace thingie sway side to side. I was trying to get a good bed of coals going and I might have been the slightest bit over zealous when I loaded the wood. To my right arranged in ascending order, on a neatly folded towel, were a white gas-loaded 5 ml, 10 ml and 20 ml syringes all tipped with large bore hypodermic needles. See… it takes this type of orderly preparation when you’re trying to summon up a God.

As I swilled the last of PBR #9 and cracked #10, a little voice inside my head chimed in: “Agent, this might not be the brightest idea!” I dismissed that voice as easily I dismiss that whiny one that complains “You left the toilet seat up again!!!!” Then, I bent over and picked up the smallest syringe.

The 5 ml ejection into the fire sent the flames shooting out the top of the stack, barely clearing the roof of the garage. The roar of the fire was more than I expected and heightened my anticipation for for the next two syringes. I quickly grabbed the the 10 ml syringe and emptied it. As I was admiring the flames shooting over the roof of the garage I heard two loud slapping sounds behind the garage.

My beer-addled brain couldn’t figure out what the sounds were so I immediately proceeded with the 20 ml syringe. Halfway through the 20 ml syringe, as I stumbled away from the heat, my neighbor’s porch light turns on. He barreled out his back door screaming

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE ???”

It was too late to stop, so I emptied the contents of the last syringe. My patio looked like that volcano in front of the Mirage hotel. As the flames subsided and my pupils readjusted to the sudden decrease in light, the first thing I saw was my neighbor standing in my yard wearing boxers and a stained wife beater T-shirt. His hairy belly sticking out like a waxing crescent moon. Boy, was he pissed.

It turned out that the loud slapping sounds were two sections of his freshly burned cable TV wire hitting the back of my garage and cedar fence. It also happened that the night I decided to have my little ceremony coincided with the same night he paid $49.95 to get the WWE Super Smackdown Championship from Pay Per View. It took quite a bit of fast talking, $50 in cash and my last two beers to get him not to kick my ass.

So you’re probably asking why the hell I would try something this stupid. Here is your answer: I did this last year with a 6 pack and only one 3 ml syringe of white gas. The Snow God seemed to like it because the next day it started snowing and it never seemed to stop until there was a record 600 inches. I am not sure that last year’s fire ceremony was directly responsible for the epic snow fall but then again I am not sure that wasn’t.

So I figured I would cover my bases, hedge my bets and hope this creates another record year.

Agent 420 lives in the northern rocky mountains where he works as a freelance safety consultant. His specialty is organizing, leading and participating in safety meetings. His other writing can be found here.

Switzerland is an amazing place. I have to say the people here have a very high standard of living. Things are expensive, but everything is clean and tidy and the trains are always on time. I have been filming Fred Nicole on some amazing stuff.

On Sunday, we went to an area where huge orange leaves blew across problem as Fred climbed. Certainly some of the best video I’ve ever shot… an amazing athlete in a perfect setting doing incredible things.

I have a ticket to take the train down to meet Fred’s brother Francios who is also a very strong climber. He will show me some new boulders he has and I am looking forward to adding another name onto the roster for Pure, especially someone so talented as Francois.

I have started my euro-English accent. Here’s some stuff I said today:

“Do you know where is the restroom?”
“He seems very sympatic” (french for ‘friendly’)
“What is the time of which these trains are running?”
“Perhaps we first take a coffee and after that we catch the train.”

Also part of the Euro-accent is speaking English slowly and more clearly than normal, so you all will have to forgive me when I get back to the US because I may speak to you as though English was your second language.

Sorry in advance.

Prolific climber and Cloudveil ambassador Chuck Fryberger is also a videographer and blooger. Check out his Web site.

It’s 2004 and I think I am hallucinating the biggest, most vibrantly blue butterfly I have ever seen. Its wingspan is so massive that the blue wings beat every 10 seconds … or longer.

“Wow! Look at that butterfly, beautiful!” this is grunted behind me and I mutter, “Thank God” under my heaving breath. It wasn’t a dream. I’m just dying of exhaustion!

This is one of my more lasting memories of La Ruta de Conquistadores. The “Ruta” as it is called is considered one of the hardest mountain bike races on the planet. Let me just say, “I can witness!!!”

The Ruta’s route in 2004 was a three-day stage race going west to east across Costa Rica, beginning in Jaco, on the Pacific coast ending at Playa Bonita near Limon, on the Caribbean side.

Some of my other great memories are of climbing up to near the top of Irazú (dormant volcano) while clenching my cheeks as I had to drop the deuce and could not find an appropriate spot until I was in the woods near the crest of the climb.

On the descent of about 20 miles I had four flats. Luckily, I had heard that the descent on Day Two was hairy and I carried four tubes with me that day, three tubes on the other two days. I will never forget on that first stage trying to clean the mud — which is clay-based “gumbo on steroids” — with jungle creek water along with about 20 other racers at the same time in muted jungle canopy light. Also during Day One after about an hour of racing I hiked –a- bike with about 200 of my closest “friends” (I had heard and found it to be true that it would be best to conserve energy) for an hour or so.

Then of course, the 16 or so miles of rail road track. Yup, you read right. On the last day racers follow and race on a decommissioned rail road track, I still think I have some loose fillings from going down those tracks. Oh, and did I mention that you are crossing the Reventazón and Pacuare rivers (both running Class 3) on decommissioned and unmaintained bridges that are missing pretty much every other trestle?

The bridges range 15 to 40 feet above the water.
Good times. …

La Ruta just finished for 2008 and is now a four stage event. Plans for next year and beyond are to make it five stages. All I know is that over three days, I spent close to 30 hours in the saddle and barely made the time cut on the second day.

I would recommend racing La Ruta to anyone who wants to test their limits in mountain biking. I have competed in 24 hour mountain bike races both solo and as a team. La Ruta make these races look like a weekend fun ride.

That’s why for my 50th (yes, I am on the downhill side of the 40’s) in 2011 I am going back to La Ruta with nine riders from Missoula to share the pain and … oh yeah, fun.

Jedzilla is married and a father of two who is trying to use his snowboard instructor background to potty train his eldest child. Stay tuned for a post on that subject. …

Not so.

At least, not so for those hoping to commune with nature through flyfishing in North America.

According to the British fly fishing site “The English Fly Fishing Shop,” fly fishermen visiting the states could die in the wilds and never come home.

Here is the introduction to the cautionary page (click here then scroll to the bottom of the page for the entire WARNING):

What are you talking about I hear you say. This guy has gone mad. He has been fishing in the sun too long. I am very serious. Non Americans fishing in America are in danger of being killed or of being seriously injured. There are hazards like bears, alligators, stingrays, poison ivy, hunters with guns and monster sharks that can cause you harm if not fatal damage. The locals know of the dangers and take steps to try and avoid being hurt. Here in Britain there are no dangerous animals to interrupt a great days fishing. I hope to help you have a safe fishing vacation by providing you with knowledge you need to avoid the pit falls of fly fishing in the America Continent.

The author later goes on to detail those hazards. His list includes sharks, jellyfish, warm seawater bacterium, coral rocks & shells and mountain lions, to name a few.

Maybe because I live in a place populated by mountain lions and bison and elk, or maybe just because the warning is so outrageous, one of my favorite highlights from the warning is about elk:

ELK
American Elk are mostly benign but in the autumn, it’s rutting season and male elk are getting combative, “bugling” to attract mates and deter lustful opponents, just at the same time you might be stalking giant 15 pound, 30 inch brown trout as they spawn in America’s numerous public access rivers. It’s also hunting season in America, so you should wear blaze orange if you are out fishing in the wilderness. The wearing of silly fur hats with antlers is strongly discouraged here! In certain American “wilderness areas” you could find yourself in the middle of a herd of 1,000 or more elk as they migrate through your favorite fishing hole. Simply remain calm, don’t make any sudden movements, and for God’s sake don’t apply any commercially-available “elk rut scent” behind your ears! A bull elk agitated by the rut might get the wrong idea about your intentions, and the results (and surgery bills) could be tragic.

I don’t know if I should laugh or just stare in wonder at this warning.

If the author is serious, and I’m still guessing, one interesting result of the warning creeks and rivers of the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem and beyond will be devoid British accents and full of grizzly-fighting, coral-wrangling North American hard men.

At the Snowmass race, Len held his own, riding laps just a couple minutes slower than Lance and helping their three-man team to victory.

As winter sets in here and the snow starts to fly, Len and I have been trying to squeeze in as much riding as we can, unlike the rest of the Backbone crew, which is solely focused on skiing now.

Len and I were plotting our winter training yesterday, talking about getting in one road ride per week, with lots of gym time and skate skiing to maintain fitness. Then I stumbled across Lance’s winter training plan as explained by Chris Carmichael on Bicycling.com.

Lance’s Training Outline
2 x per week 5-5.5 hrs endurance pace
2 x per week 3-4 hrs endurance pace with 2 x 20minutes at just below LT pace (380-400watts)
1 x per week Tuesday-night ride
1 x per week 3-4 hrs with 2 sets of 4 x 20seconds max effort x 40 seconds recovery
1 x per week–day of for travel, rest.

Uhh yeah, Len, you’re going to have a tough time keeping up with Lance next year.

She’ll be in Jackson for the mountain’s Nov. 29 opening and here through December before she leaves for Russia in mid-January, taking the first step in her path toward reclaiming her 2007 championship crown from the International Freeskiing Association.

The 30-year-old, who learned how to ski through Wilson Elementary School’s winter sports program and won state skiing titles at Jackson Hole high school, is chopping wood in Wyoming, skiing powder in Argentina and even turning some tricks at the Olympic splash pool in Salt Lake to prepare for this year’s competition roster. Read more here about last year’s experiences that inspired her to hit the ground harder this year.

The latest from McMillan’s blog highlights the Wild Card pics for the Sochi, Russa competition in January. Russia is the first stop on the Freeride World Tour, a different, but equally badass competition series from the International Freeskiing Association Tour (mentioned above).

When you go out to the Village, watch out for the blond streak zooming past you in her Volkl Kuros and Cloudveil coat.

From Jess:
The Freeride World Tour just announced the Wild Cards for Sochi, Russia. Congratulations to everyone who received a wild card. The FWT is an amazing tour. I am really excited to see more women on the tour this year. I think having more women will push all of us to ski our very best and bring the level of competition to a new height. Can’t wait to see you in Russia.

When the snow starts falling in Jackson Hole, it is high time for the “crazies” to hit the thinly coated slopes of Teton Pass in search of knee injury adventure.
On one hand, it is hard to fault someone for having irrepressible motivation such that they will risk their season for dirty turns. But on the other hand, such risk lends itself easily to criticism by those who think that turns through brushy, rocky minefields are not worthwhile.
The Resolution: taking that motivation and applying it to something other than the low-hanging fruit.

There are plenty of lines to ski with minimal risk at this time of year; however, one has to go farther, using more energy, to find them. There are a handful of lines in the Tetons on which one can find mid-season conditions in early November. The road is closed at Bradley/Taggart and there isn’t enough snow to skin the normal winter approaches, but that just gives you an excuse to make it a multi-sport day: hop on the mountain bike and pedal your skis farther into the park.

Two ski partners and I did just that last Wednesday. After pedaling through an inch of snow and slush, which unfortunately feels like sand under the tires, we left the road, stashed the bikes and began post-holing a certain canyon’s summer trail.

Picture this: A maze of talus and boulders in which there was just enough snow to cover both flat boulders and gaping death holes that would swallow your entire body and break all four limbs. This led to a very slow and gingerly walk probing with poles, testing every foot hold and still sliding into some of the mini crevasses occasionally.

What in summer or winter would take about 15 minutes to negotiate, took us about an hour and a half. This section was, by far, the crux of the 12-hour car-to-car day.

After a climb made difficult by the worsening storm conditions, we reached the top of the couloir. While the run was not a long one, the turns exceeded all expectations, with thigh deep powder and dropped-knee face shots on November 5!

I don’t mention any formations or lines here because 1) I don’t want to direct someone to an area they aren’t familiar with and 2) I don’t want to direct the masses to one spot, which inevitably happens when they know it has been explored. I post this because I am happy to share with those who have an adventurous spirit and motivation to get away from the road. Those who are willing to be on the move for 12 hours simply for the workout, adventure, and 25 turns in bottomless powder, know that there are rewards to be found out there.
I don’t post pictures of the turns because, frankly, we were too cold and tired to take the camera out for shots in near white-out conditions.

The slog was arduous to say the least, but isn’t that what most of us in this valley crave (to varying degrees) anyway? The trail might not be broken for you and you might not be able to ski your way to the valley floor (in fact you might have to break trail on both the way up and down), but the satisfaction of hiking or biking back to the car and realizing that you had the entire range to yourselves is well worth the travail. Days like these feel like the anti-Teton Pass vibe: the valley is not overpopulated and these mountains are not skied out.

Peter Griffin lives in a rent-free gnome shack in Wilson.

The following was sent by Forrest McCarthy, Wildlands Organizer for the Wyoming Wildnerness Association. Bring a date, some popcorn and settle in for a meaningful evening of films dedicated to promoting human-powered winter sports (backcountry skiing, Nordic skiing, snowshowing, winter hiking and camping). Here’s what Forrest has to say:

The Wyoming Wilderness Association, Friends of Pathways, and the Togwotee Pass Backcountry Alliance are hosting the Winter Wildlands Alliance’s fourth annual Backcountry Film Festival from 6:30 p.m. to 9 p.m. Thursday at the Snow King Grand Room here in Jackson Hole.

The festival showcases inspirational and thought-provoking films from independent grassroots filmmakers that will highlight backcountry and environmental issues, as well as entertain with exceptional skiing.

The film program is a combination of shorts and feature films. Films emphasize the pleasures of quiet, untracked snow, the excitement of steep descents and the ingenuity of wind-powered snow recreation, all captured through the unique lens of grassroots filmmakers.

Tickets are $5 at the door and include a raffle ticket. Beer will for sale. Proceeds will benefit Ski Cabin repairs and the Teton Pass Ski Ambassador Program.

For more information on the specific films, see below:

Tom Turiano: Local ski mountaineer and guide book author will begin the evening with a 30 minute photo-presentation showcasing over 20 years of backcountry skiing in the Jackson Hole region.

Hand Cut (Trailer Above): a beautifully shot, soulful film that explores the connection between a ski towns’ mining roots, and their present search for the powder they cherish more than gold. Inspiring footage is paired with a great soundtrack to create a film that is both entertaining to watch and thought provoking.

Ride It Out follows snow-kiters through miles of untracked powder and discovers the beauty and danger of an evolving sport.

My Own Two Feet is the stunning debut film by Leeward Cinema. It’s the first action sports film shot entirely using sustainable production methods. The cast and crew walked 1,200 miles and camped for 30 nights in the mountains of California and learned that with a little motivation your feet can take you to unimaginable heights.

The Pact chronicles the tragedy and recovery of an above knee amputee as he battles his way back from a devastating crash to making telemark turns.

Fast Grass and Dirty Corn is an entertainingly fun look at the lengths some hardcore Vermont locals will go to in order to make spring turns.

Editor’s Note: Come out for a worthy cause, cheap entrance fee, entertaining movies, stoke-inducing date night!

Jan Voigt: We used to look at the schedule at the ski patrol hut to see who had two days off for a Utah ski adventure. One such two-day trip, we weren’t even sure if it was supposed to snow, but we were sure of our eagerness to hop in a van after work and make our way through the night from Colorado to hit Alta first thing in the morning. The van died on Rabbit Ears Pass about 11 p.m., we replaced a spark plug and decided to continue, wondering if it would be worth it. The snow was falling heavily by morning when we started up Little Cottonwood. Only Four-Wheel drive vehicles were being allowed up by the time we got there. So, we hopped in a truck with a friend and picked up a few more folks along the way who were hiking in ski boots. The day was epic. It dumped all day leaving us about 20 inches of unexpected new snow!! Rather than stay with friends in Salt Lake, we headed to the Peruvian as soon as the lifts closed to check on availability, a hunch told us we should stay up the hill, it was a whiteout outside and getting thicker. I don’t even remember checking the weather report. I just remember knowing that we needed to stay. The Peruvian had a few more bunks available in their dorm rooms so I grabbed the last one in the women’s room while my buddy got one in the guy’s room. We hit the liquor store and the plate of warm cookies the Peruvian bakes daily — the best! And when I watched a friend of mine ski through a tiny slot between the houses above the Peruvian, I realized this was my happy place. It’s still the place I think of when I need a mental escape. Around 5:30 p.m., we were getting more beer when we heard there would be lock down at 8:30 p.m. This is no joke. If you have never experienced this, they actually take a large chain and lock and put it through the handles on all the doors that lead outside. No one goes out or comes in. It was actually a very comforting feeling, knowing we had our ski gear, a place to sleep, beer and copious amounts of snow for tomorrow. I couldn’t imagine a better scenario. We spent the evening playing cards, drinking beer and watching the snow relentlessly fall. At 5:30 a.m., we awoke to a loud knock on our dorm door. Resort management had increased our status to “interlock.” This meant we needed to get ourselves down to the Alf Engle “safe” room at the very bottom of the hotel on the side opposite the ridge they were blasting. We were all lined up against the walls there until they told us that we could go across the hall to start breakfast. We were packing in as many calories as we could — consuming plates full of eggs, sausage and french toast. The new snow had now reached approximately 45 inches! It was turning out to be an epic storm. We started calling in to the Ski Patrol back home, passing the phone, hesitating to come up with an excuse. We ended up just saying we wouldn’t be there with a huge grin, this was the storm of the winter and we were staying as long as it was snowing. We were sitting there stuffing ourselves when it felt like an earthquake hit. The breakfast area faced the slopes with a wall of windows, all we saw outside was a rolling snow cloud sweep over us. It didn’t take long for us to figure out that an avalanche had hit the building because the east wing up to the second floor and into the hallway was filled with snow. Everybody was stunned, but mostly impressed. The parking lot looked like a washing machine load of vehicles two stories high. Snow had banked up against the lower level and poured through the windows on the second floor. It was insane. We got the news that they would unlock the doors around 11 a.m. and we lined up at the chains like little kids at the amusement park entrance. The debris pile had closed us off from the valley below and kept new skiers from coming up. We realized we had Alta all to ourselves. We had to find our way up through the woods to get over to the lift at Alta, like a cross country race. It was puking snow. I remember holding my hand out in front of my face and having to move it closer just to see it. I had only one ski buddy for the day, the most I had the patience to keep track of. The day was like no other I have ever skied. Each turn was a blind burst of snow with no bottom, when you fell, you wondered if anything was there to stop you from falling further. Each time I had to make sure to get a hand in front of my mouth to create a small breathing space before wrestling to get back up to the top. By the end of the day I thought it couldn’t get any better. I collapsed at the bottom with a feeling of complete depletion and satisfaction. My smile said it all. We all wore the same snow-munching grin. Life was good and I could think of nothing else that mattered right then. When the storm ended on the third day, we had received 56 inches total. The snowy walled entrance to the Peruvian stood twice as high as the average person. The cars still piled up in the parking lot, now part of the scene like the massive debris pile across the road, and the snowy east wing. The rooms at the end of the hall were out of service and a chill throughout the hotel might have depicted tragedy but the warm energy within the hotel was like nothing I had ever experienced. On the way home on the night of the third and most beautiful bluebird day of skiing I caught a ride in the back of a friend’s pickup truck, lined up perfectly snug in our minus-20 degree bags, three of us slept the entire eight hour drive back reliving each epic day in our dreams. The best way I can try to relay how magnificent it was is to say that if I would have died the next day, I would have died a happy and thankful person. It’s not often, but when it happens that I miss the storm I think immediately of that trip and know that I had mine. And I am satisfied if it remains the only one … though I know it won’t.

]]> http://www.themountainculture.com/2008/11/10/winteralta/feed/ http://www.themountainculture.com/2008/11/10/winteralta/ http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheMountainCulture/~3/445174340/ http://www.themountainculture.com/2008/11/07/600-inches-world-premiere-friday/#comments Fri, 07 Nov 2008 07:00:29 +0000 Wogo http://www.themountainculture.com/?p=1145 Always a much anticipated release, Darrell Miller and his hard charging group of local athletes are set to unveil the newest in a long line of quality Stormshow Productions.

We at Cloudveil are always stoked to support Darrell and the homegrown footage. Get your tickets before Friday (see below for locations), or at the door to support Bridger-Teton National Forest Avalanche Center, and bid high on the silent auction items so that a big check can be handed to the Brent Newton Memorial Foundation.

The Details:

What: WORLD PREMIERE 600 INCHES
Where: SNOW KING RESORT GRAND ROOM JACKSON, WY
When: TWO SHOW TIMES: 6 p.m. and 9 p.m. TODAY FRIDAY, NOV. 7
How Much: $12 ADVANCE, $15 DAY OF SHOW

**Doors open one hour before show times with award-winning beers from Snake River
Brewing, cocktails, and pre-show shenanigans….
**DJs from FOUR4 Productions spinning mad beats throughout the night!!!

***After party at 43 North with DJ Thunder and Deejay Sessions, coming straight out of Seattle to provide ample ear candy. Sessions has music featured in the
flick 600”!

TICKETS SOLD AT: JH Wine Co., Teton Village Sports, Cloudveil Flagship Store and Wilson Backcountry Sports. Ticket sales benefit the Bridge-Teton National Forest Avalanche Forecast Center

Silent auction and raffle ticket sales benefit The Brent Newton Memorial Foundation

Raffle prizes include: a Never Summer snowboard, Cloudveil gear, Jackson Hole Mountain Resort ski pass, Alyeska Resort Lift and Lodging package, Yellowman tattoo shirts and tons of freebies!!