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.
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| 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.
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| The infamous Billboard at Silverton |
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.
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| Kurt and others stare down our run below Billboard |
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.
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| The Ridge we climbed to ascend Pioneer Peak |
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| 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!
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| A small avalanche run-out in the Brighton Backcountry |
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.
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| Shuksan's Arm, a very popular side-country zone accessed from the Mt. Baker Ski Area |
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| 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.
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| The President of the Alpine Club and Freeski World Tour Competitor Jon Jay and Myself |
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| 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.
