Mt. Hood

Last Thursday night, Dad and I left his place at 10pm and began climbing up from Timberline Lodge at 11:45. Dad had attempted Mt. Hood once before, about 30 years ago with the Mazamas, and turned around due to severe weather conditions. He's spent the last 6 months getting in shape and preparing for his second attempt, over 30 years later.

After beginning our hike, I immediately noticed that Dad was moving faster than usual, which I attributed to his losing 90ish pounds since the last time we hiked together. He kept up the pace through a cloudless night, and when the sun began to rise at around 5am we were nearing the Hogsback and the beginning of the actual climbing. Clouds began to form as soon as the sun came up and concealed our view of the summit. As we were confident in our ability to descend in a whiteout, we roped up and continued up the route most commonly referred to as Old Chute.



Just starting to get light on the way up


Nearing the summit on the steep section

At 6:45 am on Friday morning, we stood on the summit after 7 hours of hiking/climbing uphill.


Summit Photo!

Dad did awesome, traveling as fast or faster than most everybody else on the mountain that day. Our views from the summit weren't great due to the fog, but considering how bad the weather can get up there, it was really pretty nice.


Classic Hogsback Shot on the Descent

It took us 4 hours to descend 5000 vertical feet to the car. We promptly drove down the hill to Calamity Janes where I proceeded to eat a 1 lb burger topped with cheese, bacon, and avocado. . . mmmmm. I miss that place.

Career Change

I've got some serious catching up to do with this blog posting thing. From May 4th to June 8th I was taking a NOLS instructor course, which was designed to take experienced outdoor people and turn them into NOLS instructors. We had 12 students and 3 instructors on the course, all of which were amazing people.

We spent the first 19 days backpacking in the Wind River Wilderness, which was still mostly covered in snow at that time. Much of our time was spent learning how to teach the NOLS curriculum as it relates to Leadership, Environmental Studies, and Outdoor Skills. Without writing a book, I'm not sure how to summarize my experience on this part of the trip. Suffice it to say that we all had a wonderful time and became very good friends while learning a lot.


Shelter at 11,080 on Peak 11,098


Sun setting behind the Tetons from Peak 11,098


One of our many classrooms

Hiking across Burro Flats

The next two weeks were spent at a rock climbing camp near Split Rock, a couple hours south of Lander. Here we learned NOLS institutional standards for climbing, building anchors, and self rescue. I learned a great deal and managed to be one of the few to get checked off as a rock climbing instructor (everyone in our group got checked off to teach backpacking courses).

Freemont Canyon

Base Camp at Split Rock

Rainbow in a crack

My first contract will be teaching an Outdoor Educator Course in the Wind River Wilderness starting July 14th! I'm super excited to be involved with work where I feel I'm benefiting both people and the environment. I'm also optimistic about my potential for future work with NOLS, so I plan to cease being an engineer for the time being. For those who are curious, I no longer have a phone but should be getting a new one in about a week. I'll email the new number out as soon as I have it.

A parting shot

As Josh and I are taking separate paths for the time being, it no longer makes sense to share a blog. So, there will be no more pictures of baby quilts or talk of swimming to distract from Josh's outdoor adventures. Because my blog post are few and always belated, I have decided to not start my own blog. I will let you all know if I feel the need to share the details of my life over the internet in the future.

I would like to leave with this final picture: We attended a zombie party last night. Costumes were supposed to reflect how you died (and thus could became the undead). Perhaps poorly executed, yet timely, Josh and I dressed as pig farmers that were victims of swine flu. Of course, we chose our beverages to match the theme.

Collegiate Nationals

Two weekends ago was Collegiate Nationals for triathlon. I drove to Lubbock, TX with about 30 CU team members. A few were there to cheer, a bunch competed in the sprint tri, and 14 of us (7 guys and 7 girls) competed in the Nationals race. This was the big race of the year for the team, the reason we had devoted so many training hours through the winter.

This was my first trip to Texas and my first few hours in the state were quite exciting. Just outside of Amarillo we got caught in a hail storm. The driver of our Surburban didn’t decide to pull off the freeway until the hail was golf ball sized and bike trailer was fish-tailing on the hail covered road. After the hail stopped, we made our way to a near by town for gas. We investigated the hail damage (moderate) and found out we had just been within 5 miles of a tornado that touched down. But the fun didn’t stop there. As we entered Lubbock, we noted the funnel cloud in the sky. And then it started hailing again. We sprinted from the car to the hotel through a foot of water and with hail pounding our heads (had we been thinking, we could have worn the plethora of bike helmets we were traveling with). Once inside the hotel, we find out we can’t check into our room because of the tornado warning. After about half an hour, we did make it to our rooms and were able to change into dry clothes.

Race morning arrived with some frigid temperatures. The water was a chilly 53 degrees. Even with a full sleeved wetsuit this was really cold, like face numbing cold. The swim seemed to take forever, but I convinced myself that it just felt long because it was so cold. In actuality, it was a few hundred meters long. Graceful as always, I tripped on a carpet on the way out the swim and face planted. Then I tried to put on arm warmers (air temp was also in the low 50’s). Numb fingers, wet arms and tight arm warmers make for the slowest transition ever.

The bike started out with a few steep hills and then onto some flat sections. I was really flying on the flats and felt great, turns out this is because of the tailwind. Which meant there was a pretty harsh headwind coming back.

Heading out on the run, I passed right by the finish just in time to see our top guy sprinting by. From the sound of the crowd, I knew he was close to the winner (he was 3rd). At 1.5 miles into the run, I passed Jess, superwoman freshman on our team, heading the other direction (she started 2 waves ahead of me). She was running in first and was able to hold onto it for the win. My toes were numb from the swim until about mile 3 and running with numb toes never feels too good. The last mile of the run was awesome with lots of cheering teammates on the sidelines.

This was a team competition as well as an individual competition. The race was scored similar to cross-country, although only the top 4 scores were counted for each team. Our team was really focused on doing well, which adds some extra motivation to the race. In the end, I finished 2nd fastest for our team, 17th overall, and 4th for grad students (for which I got a plaque). Our womens team finished 2nd (behind UC-San Diego) and our men 4th. Our combined team finish was third (behind Navy and Cal).

Despite the difficulties of the day (cold and wind), the race was actually quite fun. Hanging out with a team of motivated and supportive people is always enjoyable. And it is pretty cool to be training with the reigning National Champion. Sure, I would have liked to place better individually and as a team. But I realize 17 out of 313 is nothing to complain about, so I will save you my whining about wave starts. Fortunately, there is always some race to look forward to, another chance to prove ourselves. Next up is Kansas 70.3 (half-ironman) in June. There is a collegiate division (the 70.3 collegiate nationals to be exact) and we should have a pretty big team headed there for another chance at a national title.

I would like to thank everyone who donated money to the team this winter. I know that despite my saying I didn’t expect a reply to my “beg” letters, many of you donated anyway. That money really helped with travel to the Regional and National races, making the cost very reasonable. Thank you for your support!

Article about the team: http://www.coloradotriathlete.com/articles/09/2009_collegiate_colorado_triathlon_team_01.html

Snowmass Mountain

I felt obligated to do something 'cool' with my week off between engineering and NOLSing besides getting ready, packing, etc. However, I faced a bit of a dilemma as all my friends who I usually do cool things with were working. I ended up using my fall-back method of posting a partner-wanted add on 14ers.com, resulting in Jeff. Jeff is a recent graduate from the Colorado School of Mines. He worked for 6 months after graduating prior to being laid off. Sounds like he's got a good deal going there. Anyway . . .

After checking the weather, we opted for a Tuesday approach, Wednesday summit of Snowmass Mountain near Aspen. There are seven 14ers in the Elk Range, and Snowmass was the only one I hadn't climbed. Combine that with the notion that I wanted to ski the largest continuous snowfield in Colorado, and you have a recipe for a spring ski trip.

We left the Denver area at about 0730 on Tuesday and were near the trailhead by 1100. In attempt to drive the final half mile of the road to where the trailhead is, I succeeded in getting my 4-Runner stuck in the partially snow-covered road. By 1200, we were hiking/skiing towards our intended destination for the night, Snowmass Lake.

The first 6 miles of the approach were brutally variable. We would literally ski for a few minutes, hike over bare trail for a few minutes, and repeat. The inefficiency inherent in doing this was very slow and frustrating, but it was better than postholing.


Jeff in the process of adventure skinning

We decided to camp near some lakes at 10,200 feet in order to set up camp and filter water before dark.


Campsite at about 10,200 feet

An early start the next morning put us at Snowmass Lake (3000 feet below the summit) just as the sun was beginning to light up Snowmass Mountain and the surrounding peaks.


Snowmass Peak (left), Hagerman Peak (kinda hidden behind Snowmass Peak), and Snowmass Mountain (center, distant)

From the lake, we pretty much took a straight line (due west) toward Snowmass Mountain. We were able to skin all the way to about 200 feet below the summit, at which point we cramponed up some steep snow and ended up on the summit ridge just north of the summit. As it was getting late in the day, I took off to make sure I could summit in time to safely ski down. Jeff ended up summitting a little over an hour after me.


Jeff nearing the summit ridge

Immediately after gaining the ridge, the wind that had been blowing all day on the other (west) side of the mountain made itself apparent. As usual when in the wind, the skis on my back went immediately into sailboat mode. I found myself crawling at a couple points along the ridge in hopes that my descent would be less rapid and with my skis on my feet instead of my back.

I reached the summit a little before 1100. Up to this point, I had anticipated a ski descent from the summit proper. Turns out this would have been possible, but I opted for a flatter, 50ish degree line with a safer run-out that started just south of the true summit. The crux of skiing this line was getting the skis on. The knife edge ridge left little room for such activities.


Me on the tiny little starting 'platform'


Finishing the steep upper section

Ideally, we would have summitted earlier and descended earlier when the snow wasn‘t quite so soft. As it was, the fresh snow from a day or two earlier was in the process of rapidly consolidating and made for some super fun turns in a suspect snow pack with a safe run-out.


Jeff at the starting gate (and me in the background)

Granted, skiing this mountain involves a fairly rigorous approach, but I still couldn‘t believe that there were no other ski tracks on the mountain. The just over 3,000 vertical foot descent from the top to Snowmass Lake took us only a few minutes. After the initial steep section near the top, the rest of the ski was mellow, fun, and as fast as you wanted it to be. At one point on the decent I got a little overconfident, which resulted in a d-dunk-d-dunk (this is where you leave a discontinuous crash track, where each successive crater symbolizes alternate head-foot-head-foot contact points).

Back at camp we filtered some more water, packed up, and prepared for the deproach. Prior to the trip, I had envisioned a quick ski back down the trail to the car. This was not to be. As it turned out, the most efficient method of travel was to put the skis on the back and posthole. I never thought I‘d say that in a million years. I made it back to the car at 8:45. Jeff rolled in an hour later, making it 18 hours since we left camp, headed for the summit.

As usual, the views in the Elks were spectacular. We didn‘t see another person the entire time we were out.


The Maroon Bells and Pyramid Peak (amongst many others :-)

Peak 1 - Breckenridge

Peak 1 dominates the view to the south from Dane's place in Frisco. Until this weekend, Dane had been forced to look up at Peak 1 and wonder what it would be like to ski it. No more.

On Saturday, Dane and I left from a trailhead in the town of Frisco. We ascended the north ridge of Peak 1, which was fun and exciting in itself. Overall, I think we climbed up and skied down 3,500 vertical feet.


Dane on top of Peak 1

We skied off the summit proper but were forced to take the east ridge for a short distance before dropping off the north side to avoid the hanging snowfield barring a direct descent from the summit towards Dane's house. We had a general idea of where we would go down, but found a pleasant surprise after rounding the edge of the hanging snowfield.


Looking down the upper chute

We found ourselves looking down a much tighter chute than we had been able to spot from his house, which must have been barely hidden by any of a number of rock bands. We found this chute irresistible and began the main stretch of our descent.


Dane dropping in to the upper chute

We found the chute to be steep and sustained for about 1,500 vertical feet before emptying out into the large bowl on the northeast side of Peak 1.


Dane making turns in the upper chute

Lower down, we found the obvious and super aesthetic chute that we had seen from Dane's house. This chute was much shorter, but begged to be skied nonetheless. So we put our skins back on, skied back up to the top of the ridge, and looked down the somewhat intimidating constructing chute.


Looking down the lower chute - the walls on either side make the line obvious, even though you can't see most of the chute

I made slow, controlled turns down the chute until it became too narrow to do so, at which point I just pointed my skis downhill. At the narrowest point, I believe I could have reached out and touched both walls with my 6-foot wingspan. Dane followed in a similar fashion.


Looking back at the lower chute

Shortly after descending through the thickly wooded forest smothering the lower slopes of Peak 1, we found ourselves relaxing in the hot tub. Once again, we were looking up at the awe inspiring Peak 1, but this time we didn't wonder what it would be like to ski it.


Peak 1 from Dane's hot tub


This zoomed in view of the peak from the hot tub provides a more global perspective of the lines we skied.

Outdoor Educator / Engineer

I've been planning to take a 35-day instructor course from the National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS) for quite some time now, ideally working courses for them afterward. I broke the news to my office a few weeks ago, so I guess it's safe to mention in the public forum of blog space now.

For the majority of May and part of June, I will be backpacking and climbing out of Lander, Wyoming while learning how to become a NOLS instructor. The typical NOLS course takes high school- and college-aged students into the wilderness for a month, and focuses on teaching wilderness/technical skills (cooking, camping, hiking, climbing, etc.), leadership skills, and life skills. Courses are predicated around a backpacking expedition, some focus on rock climbing, some focus on mountaineering, some fishing . . . you get the gist. With additional training beyond the instructor course, I could potentially teach 2-week backcountry skiing trips, rafting/canoeing trips, or pretty much any combination of everything mentioned above.

My passion for this type of work far exceeds that of my current engineering position. So far, my current company has been highly accommodating after the initial shock wore off. They have agreed to try to be flexible and work with my schedule. Hopefully, I'll end up spending about half the year as an engineer and half the year as an outdoor educator for the next couple of years. I have great hopes that this will open doors to a world with which I have much more in common than here in the land of cubicles.

I have 2 more weeks of work before taking several weeks off for the course as well as some personal time!

Berthoud Pass

. . . and one more shot from Berthoud Pass on Sunday.

Snowy Colorado

It's been snowy here (more typical of spring than winter in this state). I've had some epic backcountry days this weekend and last, and the flatirons are decorated in ice cycles.

Lake Havasu

Last weekend, I traveled with the CU tri team to Lake Havasu. This lake (or reservoir to be more accurate) is on the Colorado River between Arizona and California, a 16-hr drive from Boulder if you are pulling a trailer full of bikes. We were not there to participate in the Spring Break activities going on around us. Rather we did the opposite by going to bed at 9 pm and limiting our beverage intake to water. The retired people who surrounded us with their motor homes at the campground partied much more than us. No, we are not bunch of boring triathletes, but were there to race.


My only picture from the trip: the sunset the night we arrived. This was taken near our campsite.

The Lake Havasu triathlon served as the Mountain Collegiate Conference championship. Schools from Colorado, Arizona, and New Mexico participated as part of our regional competition and tune-up before Nationals. We had about 40 members of our team compete and took all the top awards. You can read about it here: http://www.coloradotriathlete.com/articles/09/2009_collegiate_mountain_championships.html

My two goals for the race were an olympic distance PR and a 10K PR. I accomplished both of these despite many sharp corners and steep climbs on the bike (usually together, as in steep downhill followed by a 90 degree turn) and hot temperatures on the run. Mostly, I was there for experience as I have only done one other race of this distance. But I am also super competitive and had to chase down all the girls ahead of me on the run. With the awesome encouragement from teammates and the added boost of racing 5000 ft lower than I train, I was able to finish first in the collegiate division.

Next up is Collegiate Nationals on April 18 in Lubbock, TX (also olympic distance). Our team is very determined to do well at this race. This leads my roommates to make fun of me for my current training insanity. But it should all pay off in 3 weeks.