My Skiing Autobiography Part Three

So, the final portion of my story so far begins in somber fashion.  I was nursing a surgically repaired knee and able to do very little for at least 5 months.  Aggressive skiing would take at least 8 months and a knee brace.  However, I had already made plans to study in New Zealand for "Summer" and I knew I needed to do whatever I could to make the best of it.

One of the first things I did was to get involved in the University of Canterbury tramping club.   UC had a specific club for just about every specific outdoor sport, whereas DU just had one Alpine Club. Seeing as I could not ski, the tramping club seemed to fit the bill.  Also, given the Kiwi's expanded definition of tramping I was even able to start working on climbing skills.  One of the first trips of the southern hemisphere winter was the club's annual 'Snow Craft' trip where they instructed beginning alpinists in the basics of using ice axes and crampons.  We were taught to self-arrest, keep our crampons on, and even how to dig a snow cave to spend the night in.  The first day we spent hiking up the Temple Basin Club Ski Area before crossing into the backcountry.  The next day a short climb rewarded us with amazing views of Arthur's Pass National Park.  We also did a mock avalanche rescue scenario. 

Top of our Climb During the SnowCraft Trip

Later, I signed up for a more advanced trip up to an over-2700m peak called Mt. Taylor, the highest in the Canterbury Foothills.  However, bad weather made us call the trip off.  In the spring, though, I would drag my two non-climbing friends halfway up, spend the night in an abandoned box, and do a solo-ascent in the morning.  In that way, I achieved the highest elevation of all the American climbers down there during our five month stay.  The views were also quite inspiring.

Raising my Ice Axe when I am over 2700 m

Just for fun and a bit of excitement, many of us did the Nevis Bungee Jump while we were down there.  The jump plummets you 134m or about 435 feet.

Myself doing the Nevis Bungee Jump

Getting back to the United States ended up being a good thing because the winter of 2011 turned out to be one of the best on record.  With snow falling seemingly every weekend, I became highly motivated to go skiing, despite the pain in my knee. Still, I had to strike a balance between days on the mountain and days in the gym trying to improve my knee and overall fitness.  Three days skiing and three days working out seemed to be the correct balance, leaving one day to rest and complete schoolwork.  The biggest struggle was finding friends who wanted to explore the backcountry.  That is where Sean Kelly came in; he and I put in a number of days exploring Loveland and Berthoud Passes, sometimes with penultimate DU ski bum Zach Paley.  With only one dangerous avalanche incident, we both learned a lot that season.

Sean looking tough after a hike at Loveland Pass

Then there was a spring break trip to Tahoe with two non-backcountry friends that still proved to be one of the most fruitful spring ski trips I have ever been on.  After winning enough money in a poker game to pay for the trip, the Tahoe area went through a two feet of snow every other day cycle, and meeting up with Tahoe Local Legend, the Mono-Maniac made for a fantastic trip to NorthStar, Alpine Meadows, and Squaw. With college week discounted tickets of $39, all this made that Spring Break truly awesome.

The one 40+' hit in the NorthStar Side-country, found by the Mono-Maniac.

 Eventually, though, it became clear that since it was snowing so much throughout 2011, that in-bounds terrain was where it was at.  The East Wall at Arapahoe Basin was very much a "go" all spring, with many lines to choose from that might not exist during a normal year.  This was when I hooked up with ex-ski racer turned freestyler Scot Chrisman.  Scot wanted to prepare for FreeSki competitions the next season so I began showing him around the steepest in-bounds skiing that Summit County had to offer.  We had a few excellent weekends of pushing each other until disaster struck.  I let my pride get a hold of me and I chose a line that was probably no longer in reasonable condition and skied it too aggressively, especially given my bad knee.  I whacked my pole, and pointed it into the chute, but lost it with too much speed on the second turn coming out it.  I tomahawked through a boulder field and ended up crushing and dislocating my right shoulder.  Another season was ended, but at least I would definitely be in shape by the start of the next.  Scot also did an excellent job helping me get to the patrol-shack and then the Frisco emergency room.

Myself pointing it through the chute, and to the E.R.

After the surgery, my shoulder hurt for months, but I knew it was supposed to be good by ski season.  Thus, the question became finding a way to get fit for backcountry skiing in the coming season.  Hence, I managed to do some summer mountaineering training by taking on a route from Loveland Pass, 11,991', all the way to Gray's Peak.  The route starts by quickly taking you up to over 12,000 feet from Loveland.   Then, it takes you up and over 13,900 feet Grizzly Peak and then you descend again.  Then you head immediately up Torrey's peak which stands at  14,275' tall.  This is the only part of the trail where you will see multiple other people.  Then, from the summit you descend about two thousand feet  and then head up Gray's Peak which stands at 14, 278'.  The views are spectacular from both summits but if you left your car at Loveland Pass you do not have much time to linger, you have to go back the way you came before darkness sets in.  I made it back to my car, almost unable to stand, in less than six hours and forty-five minutes, a time which I was very satisfied with.  The route contained almost 11 miles and 11,000 feet of vertical elevation change.  This was a big confidence builder in my fitness, which would be tested as soon as I visited Bellingham again in December 2011.

I also decided that the time had come for some August skiing.  I went out looking for some skiing on the St. Mary's Glacier but ended up finding a steep snowfield on the 13'er Mt. Bancroft.  It took some scrambling and a few hours of hiking, but I was able to link together well over 10 turns on the snowfield, making it very much worth the effort.

The snowfield off of Mt. Bancroft's saddle, August turns are always good.

The next ski season officially started for me with an AIARE Level 1 Class led by Renaissance Adventure Guides, but it was not an adequate warm up for the North Cascades Adventure that I was in for.  I came to Bellingham expecting a 10 day hut trip.  When I got there the reality was that Louie, Zach and I were going to immediately go for an ascent of El Dorado Peak.  This is a peak so tremendous in its views and so out of the way that it ranks on North America's list of 50 Classic Ski Descents.

After camping one night in the snow-covered parking lot, we bushwhacked our way up to the start of the glacier where we camped again for the night.  We woke up for an alpine start and started to carefully make our way across the glacier.  We only roped up for one extended session of glacier with Louie in the lead and Zach in the rear, thus providing the optimum level of protection for the least experienced person in the group, myself,  However, this did mean that I had to race to keep up with Louie's normal skinning pace.

Once we reached the final ascent of glacier, we unroped and switched to crampons.  This we would do on our own - although still in sight of each other.  The final hundred meters of the ascent proved trickier.  Normally snow covers the cornice making it an "exhilarating walk to the summit".   However, we were ascending in early winter conditions and there was no snow coverage, just a bare summit.  We would have to actually climb to the summit.  There was a short debate about roping up and placing some ice screw, but the possibility of the cornice breaking, especially if one member fell, seemed to ill-thought out.  We would climb this individually, each member of the group going on their own spiritual journey to and back from the summit.

The slopes were icy, the chance of self-arrest on either side seemed next to impossible.

The views were incredible and vertigo inducing.  They say it is not the fear of falling but the fear of letting go, and I very much agree.

We all made it though and were rewarded with a very icy but unique and beautiful descent.

Shredding Ice on the way down El Dorado

Not difficult, even exhausted, to smile when the world is so beautiful.

Later that week, we did manage to make it out to the Tenquille Lake Hut outside Pemberton BC.  It takes some effort to get to, but it is beautiful, the hut is newer, and the chance for powder is high.

Getting some Power near Tenquille Lake Hut in Canada after the El Dorado Trip

When I got back to Denver in January of 2012, after such an exciting winter break, I ran into a bit of a problem.  Whereas the winter of 2011 had set records for large amounts of snow, the winter of 2012 was setting records for the astounding lack of snow.  Also, the snowpack was touchy, low, and altogether dangerous for nearly the entire season.  It was difficult to find people who wanted to ride in-bound, much less the backcountry.    Even somewhat experienced people were getting nervous with that year's unusually dangerous and touchy snowpack.  Fortunately, there was still another trip to Silverton to get on, which once again I got a spot for via a raffle.  The Lord works in mysterious ways but he seems to have wanted me to go to Silverton.  This time three of us, including myself, would spring to spend the extra bucks to ride on the magic carpet -excuse me, the helicopter.

The group meets halfway to the Billboafd in order to drop into Rope Dee 2

The Silverton Magic Carpet

Cody drops into to Pyramid Peak after his (and my) magic carpet ride.

A Taos Snowboard Instructor makes the creamy Spring Snow look just like butter.

Myself racing out of the couloir in the center.   This run is reached by hiking past the Billboard

I spent spring break, when the snow was almost gone, taking AIARE Level Two, this time with Alpine Ascents International.  Although the snow was not great for skiing, it was great snow for taking snow tests and analyzing the snow, given the oddness of the snowpack.  We were able to run all sorts of tests beyond just the normal compression tests, and they all factored in our decision-making process.  Our guide Colin Mitchell even got the CAIC to make some changes in their forecast for the following day.  When I met the head guide Markus Beck the next day, he told me that 2012 was a much better year to take avalanche classes and learn, rather than to go skiing.

Members of our group work on an Extended Saw Test while our Guide stands close by during Avalanche 2

However, I still wanted to go skiing and I began pushing the limits by myself at places I knew, such as Loveland Pass.  I dropped over the next ridge so no one would follow me and found this gem of a couloir. Almost nothing else was holding snow but these steep, North-East face pitches, and this couloir had the benefit of having tall rock walls to cover it.  I measured the highest pitch at 48 degrees and gave it a go.  It was actually quite fun and it temporarily took away my frustration at the climate to have skied a steep, narrow pitch.  I am still not sure of its name.

The unnamed Couloir to the South of Loveland Pass that I would ski

Despite having taken AIARE Levels 1 & 2, during which I learned a lot, and my helicopter drop at Silverton Mountain, I was discouraged for much of the 2012 season.  The season had never came together for even decent in-bounds riding, and it had never done the same for long extended backcountry descents.  After the trip up El Dorado and the following Canadian hut trip, I began to wonder what was going wrong - *ahem* climate change.  However, I did manage to put together one last grande ski descent.  This occurred after school ended for me and I had some time before graduation.  I left Denver and headed out into the mountains to push my solo-skiing - something I do not normally recommend - but that I had been doing all season.  First, I rode the 13'er Mt. Sniktau crossing above where the 2013 Sheep Creek Avalanche killed five experienced riders.  My confidence now higher I decided that I had to give Mt. Quandary a try.  Mt. Quandary  is 14,271 and was one of the few mountains I had to turn back on when I was with the University of Denver Alpine Club in May of 2011.  There was only one route on the North East face still holding snow, the seldom climbed Quandary Couloir.

The Mountain Hardware Bivy Sack I had been using to sleep outside my car.  It worked quite well for one person, set-up and folded up easily and was light if it needed to be carried.

Climbing conditions were tough and I had to often resort to climbing the ice clinging to the side of the rock with my crampons and using rock hand-holds with one hand and an ice axe in another.  A lot of signs, including the rapidly increasing temperature, were telling me to turn back, but I was having so much fun getting a mixed climb in on a 14'er that I kept going.  Eventually, I got to the top where I saw people who had ascended via the class 1 trail looking quizzically at my gear, so knowing my time was limited I returned to my skis.  I strapped in and dropped in for one of the more challenging descents of my life.  However, I made it safely down, and quickly returned to the car, taking in the fact that I had skied my first 14'er solo, on a medium-tough route, in bad conditions.  I still have dreams, good ones, about that day.

The Quandary Couloir in the first week of June 2012, not much snow left, but enough for a radical descent!

At that point, I was done skiing for the summer, until I was not, thanks to South America Snow Sessions and Snow Global Travel.

After my graduation from the University of Denver, I began to work at company that sold stone - literally rocks in various shapes and sizes - mostly for landscaping.  It was an agonizingly boring job, the hours were long, and pay was low.  There were no benefits to speak of.  Hence, by mid-July I was done and put in my two weeks notice.  The first thing I did was call up Travis Moore to see if I could pick up that last spot on the Argentina trip their website had been talking about.  He said he would bump me up the waiting list to get me that spot, and we decided that I had the finances for the ten-day adult session with a slight discount for having heard about SASS at a college presentation.  So, I was on for SASS.  I had been training hard at the climbing gym for months but now at home I started adding in leg work.  I put both my skis on a foam roller, grabbed my poles, clipped myself into my bindings, and put on my favorites ski movies, all to practice leg strength and balance.

I also went back and picked up my dear old job delivering sandwiches for Lenny's Sub Shop because I figured they would not miss me too much for a week-and-half sabbatical to Argentina.  Once the arrangements were made it just became a matter of packing.  I spent over a week packing for the trip. Did I need to bring my light-set of touring skis, did I need to bring my ice axe or a rope?  Fortunately, I did not need to bring most of those things, because nearly all of the other clients would not have them.  All one really needed was skis or board and their normal equipment, in addition to a beacon, shovel, and probe.  However, if one really wanted to get out there they could bring a touring set-up, skins, adjustable poles, and perhaps a whippet.  I ended up just bringing my heavy touring set-up because it was also my main powder set-up (Marker Dukes mounted on Surface Skis).  I actually ended up selling those skis to an Argentine man who very much wanted the Dukes for a lot of American money.  This was both fortunate for me and not that uncommon, although the fact that he had so much American cash in Argentine was less common.  I used the money back in the states to get a new pure powder set-up without touring bindings as I had my light mountaineering set-up for that.

The bunks we stayed in were not four star, but were quite nice for South America.  The housekeeping and other staff were very trustworthy.  I at one point became worried about some cards that had fallen from my wallet only to find them stacked neatly by my bunk at the end of the day.  It was easy to become friends with roommates as Lucas Moore had analyzed us for compatibility very rapidly.

The Bunks at the Lodge for SASS Travelers

After a couple days of sorting out groups based on hiking speed, riding ability, and also desire for adventure we started to tackle bigger and gnarlier terrain.

Myself coming out of a line called the 'Whale' with Coach Tony still in the Belly riding it out

This was the final epic run as after this the weather turned to rain and wind for the last two days (which was still enjoyable hanging out with the coaches in the on-slope bars).  With the choke point and the spine below the rocks you cannot see, I have to say this is one of the best runs I have ever had the opportunity to ski.  Plus, we were not even finished - we hiked back up the saddle and did another great run down the opposing side until the sun started effecting the snow and we hiked up again to take the trail back to the resort.

Looking down into an unnamed couloir our group would drop into

A photo I took of Robin Van Gyn and Nikki Schletka and Gabriel Ciaffre shredding down the far face of the valley.

After the trip it was difficult to process things back in the states.  Everyone had pushed themselves over such a short period of time.  It was difficult to focus at work, which for me was delivering food.  I kept trying to push myself at the climbing gym  Eventually, though, on a day when I had already pushed too much, I took an awkward fall bouldering and definitely tore something in my right knee.  After a few days of rest I started physical therapy and was able to get back to work while wearing a brace.  I managed to ski a few days, even did two trips down to Silverton during unguided season and a trip home to ski Schweitzer but the brace was not doing the trick.

When I was skiing back to the car with a friend at Taos a mogul did me in.  I saw another physical therapist  in Denver who told me to see a doctor.  We called my surgeon from back home and he ordered an MRI.  The results were that I had no more ACL and would need another graft to ever function athletically again.  Thanks be to the Lord that we had this relationship with my surgeon that he was able to schedule me as soon as possible.  I had my second patellar tendon graft, this time on my right leg.  However, my surgeon told me that the second recovery goes faster and easier.  The surgery took a lot out of me mentally, but physically I was able to attack my PT with more abandon.  As I sit and write this, although I still would not enter a sprinting race and I would wear a brace skiing, I am altogether very confident in the strength of the surgical graft that he has performed on both my knees.  I am looking forward to climbing and skiing again very soon.

My Skiing AutoBiography Part Two

Now that I am done with the kid stuff, it is time to get to where the real skiing started.  In High School, most of my time was taken up by year round tennis and competitions and musical performance.  I was suddenly only able to ski up to twenty days a year, but I learned to savor those days.  Skiing became very special to me and by seventeen when I was applying to college I knew that I wanted to go to school somewhere near the mountains.  Eventually, I settled on the University of Denver because it seemed like a good combination of skiing, climbing, and big city excitement.

However, I had friends who attended Western Washington University in Bellingham.  By my first winter break I was hearing about how all the terrain at Mt. Baker was already covered by as much snow as the Colorado resorts would get in a season.  In addition, they kept talking about their backcountry exploits, not riding the back-bowls or the "trees" but leaving the boundaries of the resort entirely.  They talked about ski-touring equipment and split-boards, but the first thing they told me to do was to get a 'beacon, shovel, and probe', which I would do a month later.  Still, despite my desire to venture out of the resorts, there was something blissful about skipping a day of class to ski untracked Vail powder in-bounds all day.

18 year old me finding the goods at Vail Resort.  Photo by Alex Sandorf

As my frustrations grew about lack of fresh powder, lines, and ski safety employees trying to tell me to slow down - problems I did not remember from the Canadian resorts or local ski areas I rode as a child - a light appeared when older friends in the Alpine Club told me about a place called Silverton Mountain, which was a hybrid of a ski area and backcountry skiing.  The mountain they said was one of the most difficult to ride in the lower 48.  I went to the sign up meeting to find that the trip was very popular but that there were very limited spots, I would have to hope for the best in the raffle.  I was fortunate enough to gain a spot on the trip and I would finally be able to put my new beacon, shovel, and probe to use.  I would go through this raffle process for four years of college, and I received a spot every time.  It almost seemed ordained by God that I would find my way to Silverton Mountain.

When we got there some of us, myself, decided to party some the night before.  The next morning we split into groups.  I was so anxious to get to the gnar that I weaseled my way in to the fast group, led by the ripping Snowboard Guide Skylar Holgate.  Mr.  Holgate would change my life several times over the next few years, including that day.  He immediately took us on a hike up to just below the infamous Billboard.

The infamous Billboard at Silverton

 I was not the fastest hiker, I looked kind of funny in a Columbia jacket and had a bit of a gap from my beat-up helmet and my goggles.  However, I was the youngest member of the fast hiking group so I could tell that Skylar still had another test for me to pass.  The group geared up to ski what I believe was a run called Billboard #2.  A long couloir with a +45 degree pitch lined by sharp rocks on either side.  I had never skied terrain like it, and I was stoked.  I confidently agreed to ski last.  I like to ski last in groups, it gives one the chance to meditate on being alone in the mountains on top of something gnarly.

The group descended one by one, several members struggling with the steep pitch.  I just kept the image in my mind of the European skiers I had seen in movies hopping down even steeper and more exposed pitches with jump turns.  When it became my turn I did my best to mimic those jump turns.  Within a few pitches I found a rhythm, with each jump I caught a little air and felt myself glide further down the mountain.  It felt like flying.  I was finally skiing the steep pitches I had dreamed of and it was one of the most freeing feelings I had ever felt.

Kurt and others stare down our run below Billboard

After that run I felt a confidence in my skiing that lasted for months.  However, confidence can change to arrogance which quickly falls to stupidity.  Although Silverton had been the first alpine club trip I had been on, I found out that there was a Spring Break trip to Utah which would provide lodging, gas, and tickets to four Utah resorts for $400.  Needing a change from the more mellow Summit County resorts I went to the sign up meeting, sat through the raffle, and again got a spot.  I convinced a dormitory floor friend to get on the wait-list and he eventually got a spot.  The trip would have one girl who was co-leader of the trip.  It would be bros all week, which perhaps led to the stupidity I am about to speak of.

After a couple days of riding around Snowbird and Alta the older members of the group with backcountry gear went off to go touring.  I had the avalanche gear but not the touring gear, so I started riding Brighton with two snowboarding friends Terrance and Tyler.  Both were competent snowboarders but had no avalanche gear.  As the week went on the three of us started to get tired of the spring conditions and wanted to start taking short hikes out of bound and then drop into these trees that quickly became in-bounds.  This was not advised, but really not so dangerous given the conditions.  However, after a few rounds of this the three of us wanted to push the limits a bit more.  I advised against this but seeing as the only danger was wet slides the group decided that since I had avalanche gear I should be able to dig them out.

The Ridge we climbed to ascend Pioneer Peak

Thus, we began a hike, that would take us all the way up Pioneer Peak.  Fortunately, given the conditions the group decided to ride the mellowest way down.  This would turn out to be a potentially life-saving decision.

Terri hiking pioneer Peak

I am not going to lie.  I had fun on this adventure.  It was cool to have skied Pioneer Peak, but we did not tell the rest of the group that because of one thing.  Tyler released a small wet slide about half-way down the descent.  It only released about 3 inches deep by 20 feet across and ran for about 100 ft.  It would not have killed and probably not have injured him, but it was a sign that conditions were not as safe as we thought they were and if it had released somewhere else on the descent, or if our route had been slightly different, we could have had a serious problem.  This was my first experience with an avalanche.  If you examine this photo you can see the run-out of the slide to the left of the grove of trees on the right.  This is the type of decision making that the industry has been fighting against for several years now that backcountry riding has become so popular; everyone in the group needs to have a beacon, shovel, and probe!

A small avalanche run-out in the Brighton Backcountry

That trip essentially marked the end of that ski season for me.  I asked my parents to buy me a new pair of skis, the Coombas for my birthday in honor of one of my favorite skiers of all time and I bought a pair of the alpine-touring bindings the Dukes.  I was able to test them out but only in-bounds.  After that my time became consumed with pledging a Fraternity and classwork - AP tests had kept me from having a heavy class load during the winter quarter.

However, next season I was a sophomore with all my avalanche gear and a touring set-up.  I was ready-to go.  The University of Denver had an Winter break that was almost a month and a half which I spent ski-instructing at the ski area I had been instructed to as a child, 49 Degrees North.

I went to visit some friends who attended Western Washington University to see what the real core-ness they kept talking about consisted of.  We went up to Mt. Baker but what I got to experience was the coastal extremes of bulletproof ice and over two feet of cement then rain.  So we did not leave the resort boundaries.  The views of Mt. Shuksan were still stunning.  We also managed to snag a ride up to Whistler and party for free with this other Western student whose parents had a deal for two rooms and bought us a lot of beer (hey this was Canada and we were nineteen).  Oh yeah, we also got one day of skiing in.

Shuksan's Arm, a very popular side-country zone accessed from the Mt. Baker Ski Area

When my friend came home for Christmas we decided to go out for my first real tour.  We went up to Sherman Pass and spent the whole day touring over three miles to get to the top of the peak.  It was not a big mountain experience, but there is something about the way the snow sticks to the trees up there that feels just like Christmas. (Note: there is one gnarly pitch you can ride from Sherman Peak, but I am not telling.)

  Forest fires are a natural process and in snow still manage a quiet beauty.

When I got back to school, I struggled to not go skiing all the time as I had been doing over the break.  Soon enough I would change my major to philosophy so my class schedule could be more flexible.  I also struggled to find backcountry partners.  However, soon enough the University of Denver Alpine Club came to the rescue again by organizing a hut trip, which had a raffle and I received a spot.  We spent two days and three nights at the huts in Pearl Lake State Park near Steamboat Springs.  The terrain was gradual, but the snow was champagne and it snowed almost the whole weekend.

The President of the Alpine Club and Freeski World Tour Competitor Jon Jay and Myself

Myself catching some powder on the way down.  Photo by Jon Jay

The next major ski trip would be to Silverton.  However, I would face the consequences of my arrogance this time.  I felt like my skiing was some of the best it had ever been, and I was with a group that was not accessing the most radical terrain.  I compensated for this by skiing recklessly fast and on the 4th run I would take a blind air and land in a mogul field.  Very soon I would feel a pop in my knee.  I hobbled my way down the rest of the way and some how made it to the cat-track out.  An MRI later that week would show that I was done for the season, having completely torn my left ACL and was in need of surgery.  I felt more determined than perhaps at any time in my life to make a comeback the next year.  Hence, Part 3 will continue, with that comeback.

My Skiing Autobiography Part One

After having made the other SurfaceHorde bloggers write their own autobiographies, I decided it was time that I tell my own story.  Looking back it is has been quite the journey from being this little guy

Skiing at age 5 at Big Mountain

To this guy:

40+' to Flat is no problem at age 20

I do not remember the first time I went skiing, but having asked my parents I have found out that it was sometime during the Winter of 1994 when I was three years old.  My parents wanted to go skiing and thought that their children (my twin sister and my oldest sister who was 6) were old enough to come along and give it a go.  Hence, we were off to Mt. Spokane where they stuck us in ski lessons half the day and skied with us the other half.  It was fortuitous to have sisters because we had semi-private lessons because we were able to have lessons with each other.  The next year when my twin and I were four years old my parents signed us up for the weekend youth ski development group at 49 Degree's North where the lessons started to get more serious.  However, our parents, my sister, and myself decided that we liked Mt. Spokane better, perhaps because of its close proximity to town (20 miles).  So for the next two winters at ages five and six my twin sister and I were part of Mt. Spokane's 'Mogul Munchers' group.  Many soon to be ski racers were in this group.  I remember being exceedingly frustrated that the first thing the instructors did was make those who had poles put them aside.

My Dad and I riding the Tow at Big Sky

Spokane was kind of a ski city.  There were five ski areas within a two hour drive and Mt. Spokane was only 20 miles away.  A lot of people did not ski but the people who did tended know each other.  During elementary school parents of children who had caught the powder bug tried to connect us with one another.  This was where I met Tom.  Tom had never had a single ski lesson, but he skied more than any of us, he had been on skis since he was one, and he waterski'd more than anyone during the Summer.  Simply put, everyone knew that Tom was the most core skier in town from grade school on.  We were friends on and off the mountain, but it was on the snow that Tom pushed me, him racing ahead and taking bigger airs than most of the older kids.  Additionally, my family was able to take ski trips to other mountains British Columbia such as Big White, Fernie, and Kimberly that were bigger, steeper, and had more powder.  The Warren Miller film premiere was a big deal each year and was combined with a large ski expo.  Every year all the kids at school who went would wear the t-shirts that we had gotten at the expo.  Watching those films I remember being most impressed by the guys who could ski the steep European couloirs.  We formed a group of four that lasted in High School, Tom and Myself and my twin Katie and her friend Samantha.

The siblings skiing at Big Sky in 2000 on our second trip there

At age seven during the Winter of 1998, something happened, we took a road trip all the way to Big Sky, Montana.  I remember watching the tram racing up to the face and telling my parents that I wanted to do that.  They asked if I was sure, and I said of course I was.  So the whole family got in the tram line and rode it to the top.  I remember seeing skiers descend technical routes on the front of Lone Peak and I knew that someday I wanted to be a steep skier.  My family descended the much more gradual backside of Lone Peak and I actually got stuck in my first tree-well trying to catch powder that had mostly been blown of or ski'd off.  I managed to get myself out of trouble, but the only real lesson I learned was that someday I wanted to ski steep routes.  Additionally, after seeing the tracks off Big Sky cliffs and the bomb-holes at the bottom, I decided I wanted to one day jump off some cliffs.  These would both be things I would do and more.

Nevis Bungy Jump in HD

The jump that cured my fear of heights and left me with a strong craving for adrenaline; the Nevis Bungy Jump (134m or almost 440 ft) in August 2010 near Queenstown, New Zealand.  Enjoy...

Magic Carpet Ride

Some of you may have been wondering what it is like to ride on a magic carpet, so I uploaded a video just for you from when took a ride on one with Silverton Moutain Guides for my 22nd birthday in March of 2012.  Enjoy!

The other two people in the Heli were from Jackson Hole and the other members of the group were Taos Snowboard Instructors.  Here are some pictures from that day:

The Helicopter sits at the top of the mountain waiting for clients.

A Taos Instructor feels the smooth creamy Spring snow.

The group gathers before dropping in to the couloir.

Myself racing to catch the woman from Jackson.

Wishing everyone a Happy Holidays!
-Colin Griffith

A Classic Descent to remember for a lifetime

Seeing as it is 9th of December, the anniversary of Zach and Louis's trip up and down El Dorado Peak in North Cascades National Park.  I thought I would post some of the footage of us strapping in and descending the upper pitches of the mountain and glacier.  The views up there were incredible and the experience was life-changing; a go-pro simply cannot do it justice.  El Dorado Descent on Vimeo

Here are a few more photos just to add to the experience.

With a Big smile on my face

Zach Shredding the Glacial Gnar

-Colin Griffith