Surviving I-70

Anyone who has dealt with traffic on I-70 before between Denver and Vail knows exactly what I am talking about. On a clear day, leaving Fort Collins, you can hit Breck in under two hours. Vail, two and a half. But catch it wrong, and eight hours in the car is all too common. That is why I’ve put together this short guide on exactly how to handle skier traffic.

1. If possible, crash at a friend’s. If you don’t have friends, make some. You don’t have to actually like them to sleep on their couch.
2. Get up early. Clear Denver by 7 am, and not only do you avoid the morning rush, but you can also make it for first chair.
3. Leave the mountain by 2:30. Not an option thanks to fresh pow? Hang out at the bar until at least 6:00. Thanks to intermittent tunnel closures you will make it home the same time as if you had left at 4:00. Just take it easy on the sauce.
4. Hot tub poaching is another good option. I recommend the hotel next to Old C’s in Silverthorne. The door has a code, but pretend like you are staying there and no one will question why you are swimming in your underwear.
5. Pay attention to people in the ditch. There is usually a reason they are there other than their own incompetence. Sometimes it’s an icy patch, other times a bump in the road. It is not uncommon to see two unrelated cars wrecked in the same spot.
6. Never let your fuel drop too low. Sitting bumper to bumper without enough fuel to run the heater is a cold bitch. If you do run out, be sure to claim that your engine exploded. That way only you will know the true shame.
7. Call 511. Road conditions and travel times are updated every fifteen minutes.  Its good info to have before you drive an hour then realize the road is closed.
8. Buy an automatic car. After a day of riding, stop and go clutching up a 6 mile 7% grade is the hardest thing you’ll ever do. Your quads will thank you.
9. Drive something with 4wd and huge tires. That way when you hit the ditch, you can pretend you did it on purpose.  This is Colorado, 10 inches does not close the road, just adds an element of danger.
10. When headed to Vail, generally drive like an ass and pass anyone with skis on the roof. You never know when they are going to take the last free space at the golf course.

New Technology

You might think that in a sport over 7000 years old, the design of the equipment would have been perfected long ago. Really, how complicated can a pair of boards strapped to your feet be? But anyone who has tried a few different pairs can tell you: very complicated. If you are at least my age or older, chances are you remember when the rule was the straighter, and longer the better. If you were to ask the old guys, they would tell you that shaped skis would never catch on. But it only took a few years before everyone was trading their 220cm parallel boards for 170cm GS carvers. For a long time this was considered the biggest advancement in ski design the industry had ever seen.

Over the last five or so years however, a new trend has taken a strong hold. If you can’t figure it out, I’m talking about rocker. The first rockered skis to really hit the market were the Volant Spatula in 2001. In hind sight, this really is not surprising if you have ever owned a pair of Volants.  Notorious for bending in front of and behind the bindings, this eventually put the company out of business, but spawned the rocker revolution. Riding on a bent pair of Volant Machetes, Shane McConkey made the realization that they floated even better in deep powder. Sketching a new design on a cocktail napkin, the spatula eventually became his pro model ski. Not long after Volant closed its doors, and McConkey picked up a sponsorship with K2, they released the K2 Pontoon, and the Hellbent. The rest is history.

If you walk into any ski shop today, you will be hard pressed to find any 2012 model that does not have at least rockered tips. As stubborn and set in my ways as I am, I’ll admit that it is a bit scary thinking of the day I will have to own a pair of rockered all mountain skis. For now I will keep my conventional Volkl Mantras and break out the Pontoons for the deep stuff. But knowing my track record for broken skis, it’s only a matter of time before I really have to join the bandwagon and embrace the new technology.

Fallen Heroes

As many of you probably already know, skiing lost another of its high profile athletes just this last weekend. On Sunday Nov. 13, World record cliff dropper, Jamie Pierre was killed in an avalanche on the back side of Snowbird Mountain in Utah. Becoming the first skier killed in an avalanche this season, the news may not be such a shock to those who have followed his career, but is crushing just the same. Setting the world record for the highest cliff drop in 2006, Pierre was no stranger to taking huge risks, and putting a lot of faith in the powers that be. To put this in context, at 255 feet, the record setting cliff is only ten or so feet less than the golden gate bridge. Sadly, people use this bridge every year to take their own lives. Pierre took the plunge relying only on faith, and a backpack stuffed with clothing. In fact, this drop would still hold the record today if it wasn’t for a very lucky mistake made in 2008. Pierre’s record was shattered by almost 100 feet when Fred Syversen accidentally sent the wrong cliff, and had the fortune of suffering only a few bumps and bruises.

After setting the record, Pierre decided he was done taking the unnecessary risks. Limiting his drops to less than 100 feet, the pro skier made the decision for the sake of his family and friends. This just goes to show that no matter how carefully you weigh the risks, the mountain always has the final say.  Hopefully such sad news so early in the season will act as a warning to the rest. Never let your guard down, and always respect the terrain. Hopefully this is not a sign of things to come for our ever competitive, ever dangerous sport. hopefully we don’t have to say goodbye to anymore of our heroes this season.

Rest in Powder

Jamie Pierre 1973-2011

C.R. Johnson 1983-2010

Arne Backstrom 1980-2010

Shane McConkey 1969-2009

Doug Coombs 1957-2006

Brain Damage

Skiing is dangerous. Have you ever actually read the fine print on the back of your ticket? The lawyers who wrote that pile of disclaimers would have you believe each lift pass is a one way ticket to a world of pain. And honestly, it can be. There is no shortage of ways to hurt yourself when you’re doing sixty through rocks and trees, and the decision to hurl yourself off that giant exposed cliff doesn’t help things at all. There are, though, ways to give yourself a better chance of survival.

I am not an advocate for mandatory helmet laws in any way. It is your head; it should be your choice. But I do think it’s a good idea to wear one. With California and New Jersey recently passing laws making helmets a requirement for minors, it’s is pretty clear that they think it is a good idea too.

My most recent run-in (with the ground I guess you could say) left me with a profound respect for the chunk of Styrofoam and plastic that I religiously strap to my head. A pretty crappy weekend last December, a good friend and I were spending our day at Keystone, CO. The place was a sheet of ice, and the wind was blowing, so we decided to try our luck messing around Area 51. Most of the time, you won’t find me in the terrain park. I don’t belong there. But thanks to a few “you won’t do it!” ‘s from an unnamed friend, we spent the better part of the afternoon hitting kickers. Feeling pretty confident, I came into a string of three mid-sized jumps ready to put my backflippin’ skills to the test. The first two were smooth. Maybe too smooth.  I came into the third jump carrying way more speed than I needed and ultimately ended up with a mean concussion and random spells of dizziness for the next six months. Looking backwards at the landing of the jump, then forward to my feet as they made their second pass over my head, the last thing I can remember thinking was how much my life was about to suck. When I hit the ground, my friend told me I bounced. I woke up five or six minutes later feeling drunker than I’ve ever been.  When ski patrol asked me what the date was I smartly responded “I’m on vacation, why would I know that?” but when he asked me for the year, I wasn’t feeling so bright. Getting the answer wrong twice, I earned myself my first ever ride in the big orange sled.

Having put a solid crack down the middle of my helmet, I can’t help but wonder how much worse it could have been. I was pretty lucky. The headaches went away after about a week, the dizzy spells took the better part of six months, and the concussions are much easier to get the second time around, but as far as I can tell, the helmet saved me from any long term problems. So if you think it’s uncool to wear a helmet, or that it won’t happen to you, take it from me, it is worth it. My story is one small, insignificant example of just how you might be glad you did.

I love Big Dumps

If you’re the kind of person who dreads the cold, and dreams of sandy beaches, we’re going to disagree from the start. But if you’re like me, the weather these last two weeks has probably given you all sorts of warm and fuzzy feelings about the season ahead. You see, my idea of a “good” winter, is a winter where the plows run constantly. Where the temperature never breaks 32 degrees. Where Mother Nature blankets us with layer after layer of that strange white substance we call snow. Barely into November, and the Front Range has already seen multiple storms leaving knee high piles of the stuff.
Ordinarily getting to the mountains, even once, before Thanksgiving is pretty impressive. And usually everything before Christmas is just a warm up. But this year could be different. Maybe they were wrong about this global warming thing. If things stay on track, we could be in for one of the snowiest winters yet. And honestly, I am excited. For many, the forecast of snow brings fears of shoveling and impassible roads. For me it brings dreams neck deep powder, and fresh tracks top to bottom. Nothing gets me as excited as the smell of snow in the air.
All the downed tree branches and loss of power aside, these last two snow storms have left me with good feelings of the season that lies ahead. Maybe with a little luck, and a few prayers to Ullr, we’ll end up with a winter to remember.

Let the season begin!

With snow beginning to fall all over the High Rockies, I
think it is safe to say, the season is upon us once again. With temperatures
dropping low enough to run snow making machines, and Mother Nature making her
own contribution, the countdown to opening day is shrinking for mountains
across Colorado. If you’re looking for a day filled with multiple runs of the
same trail, loose slushy corn, and plenty of dirt patches, look no further than
Wolf Creek, Loveland, or A-Basin. Boasting opening dates in mid-October, these
three mountains are already available for your early-season needs. It’s no
secret that things don’t really get good until at least Thanksgiving, but if
you ask me, any day on snow is better than none at all. After all, how else can
you plan on getting 100 days on snow in a year?

These mountains not your style? Here’s a few other opening dates to look forward to across Colorado: Copper, Nov. 4th Winter Park, Nov. 16th Eldora, Nov. 18th Vail, Nov. 18th Steamboat, Nov. 23rd Monarch, Nov. 23rd Telluride, Nov. 24th Aspen, Nov. 24th Sunlight, Dec. 2 Silverton, Dec. 3rd So if you haven’t started your pre-season training yet, time is getting short. So start to run, jog, bike, lift, whatever you have to do. But get ready, it’s going to be a good season.

Good friends and epic days

Skiing is a sport you do for yourself. For your soul. Every decision is yours to make, and every consequence is yours to suffer. Perhaps it is this self-gratification that makes it so addicting. At the end of the day, there is no trophy to show. All you are left with are a few stories, some battle scars, and some really smelly socks. This is why good friends are so important.

Good friends, are right there with you an hour before the lift opens, camping out for those fresh tracks.

Good friends, point at big cliffs and yell “you won’t do it!”, then call you a pansy when you don’t.

Good friends, are a bad influence.

Good friends, bring you your skis when you decide its better to cartwheel a run than to ski it.

Good friends, crack jokes about brain damage, as ski patrol loads you into the sled.

Good friends, leave you behind when you break a ski.

Good friends, lead you out of bounds, then hitchhike back to the mountain.

Good friends, include you in games of tag down Mountain Road.

Good friends, laugh first, ask questions later when you crush yourself on hardpack.

Good friends, pop your bindings and push you over in the lift line.

Good friends, spray you with snow after a serious yard sale.

And best of all, Good friends buy you a beer in toast of an epic day.

I have always been lucky to have good ski fiends. They have made me the skier that I am, I would not trade one laugh, or one epic day with them for anything in the world.

Derek, Eliott, Jon, Dan, Andrew, Neal, Rich, James, and Harley, Thanks for all the good times.

 

Vail Sucks

It took a second for these two words to register in my mind. I quickly did a double take, and sure enough my eyes were not playing tricks on me. On a T-shirt that looked like it was made in someone’s garage this blunt phrase read clear as day. Scratching my head in wonder, I could not help but question what spawned such a direct attack on the largest mountain in the United States. Sure, Parking is a nightmare unless you want to spend $25 a day. Vail pass is a hairy drive in the snow. Hamburgers are $16, the terrain is not very steep, and lift lines are packed with loaded yuppies good only for poaching your secret stash. The list could go on and on. I can think of many reasons why Vail does in fact suck, but as a whole, I can only chalk up such a bold statement to one thing. Ignorance.
Unless you’re a pro, or a hardcore ski bum, chances are you spend most of your season within a few hours’ drive of where you live. In the front range of Colorado this gives you access to a bunch of  mountains, all of which have their own following. Though I have not been lucky enough to ride them all, there are many reasons I make the three hour drive there and back time and time again. For 500 bucks, not only can you get a season pass to Breck, A-Basin, and Keystone, but you also get 10 days at Vail and Beaver Creek. For 150 dollars more, you can eliminate the restrictions to Vail  altogether. Sure it’s a steep price, but when you consider that a day pass is damn near $100 to any of these mountains, it begins to make sense. 7 days, and the rest of your season is nothing but gravy. Pushing over 30 days on snow last year, that comes to only about $25 a day for me. With those five mountains to choose from, the choice is clear. If you plan to bring skins, A-basin is great. But if you prefer the lift, it just doesn’t have enough vertical. Personally, I avoid Breck at all costs. It gets tracked out fast, it’s always windy, and much of the time it resembles an Ice rink. Don’t even get me  started on the people who typically ride there. Beaver Creek is not worth the extra drive. That leaves Keystone and Vail. The Outback at Keystone is great. Its fresh powder all day when it snows, and it’s eastern style trees at their best when it doesn’t.  I never hesitate to stop by when Vail pass is closed, but if I can make it, The choice is always easy.Vail.

So to any Gaper, Parkrat, Dirt hippy, or ignorant pretender who wishes to issue such a blanket statement, I can say only one thing: Sack Up. Free parking does exist; you just need to find
it. Ditch your mom’s Volvo for a jeep, eat Ramen, and weave the yuppies like slalom gates. Next time the weather man calls for snow drag your ass out of bed and cruise past Breckenridge. Half an hour later you can be headed for the trees skiers left of Blue Sky Basin. Or better yet, spend the day exploring and find your own secret stash. Despite all the BS involved, I promise you won’t regret it.

Disclaimer: Vail is nowhere near my top choice of places to ski. It easily falls behind Alta, Whistler, Squaw, Jackson, and Telluride. But compared to its neighbors, It’s really hard to say that it sucks.

 

What Would Ullr Do?

The stories of the ancient Germanic gods are just that. Ancient. Every depiction of our friend Ullr, old or new, shows the same thing. A hairy viking on an outdated pair of 300cm straight edgers with leather bindings, and a pair of sandals. This got me to thinking. If some how Ullr were to descend from the heavens, what would he look like today?

Without question, his beard would be massive. So massive in fact, that Grizzly Adams himself would burst into tears on first sight. On his head would be the classic horned viking helmet we are all familiar with, only this one would have a set of skull candy headphones. If you were lucky, you might even catch him playing the air guitar in the lift lines when he thinks no one is looking. Aside from these two points though, he would be a completely different dude.

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Modern Ullr would have to drive a van. Thats right, a van. Complete with a pop top for sleeping in the back, and so many stickers on the back window, you won’t believe all the places he’s been. Nothing gets you first tracks like camping out in the parking lot. His skis, would still be huge. Only not in length. Maybe a pair of  Hellbents, or Fat-ypus’s. Afterall, the snow would be deep anywhere he went. The guy’s entourage, would be top notch. No doubt spending all that time in the heavens he’ll have crossed paths with the likes of C.R. Johnson, and the late, great, Shane McConkey. He’d have no choice but to bring them along for one last epic day of champagne powder. His skills, would be other-worldly. He would stomp hundred foot drops without breaking a sweat. Spin eighty foot gaps smoother than butter. And shred miles of volkswagen sized moguls without so much as one deep breath. If you tried to race him, you would become frozen in time. And if you were to challenge his schmear turns the only outcome would be cartwheels to the bottom

.

So If you think you ever see the man himself out on the hill, remember to give him a shout. A simple howl will do just fine, or a “Yeah buddy!” if it’s really something special. But always pay homage to the man of winter, because you never know when you’ll be standing on that cornice asking yourself, What would Ullr do?

Ullr, God of snow

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Each year, as the days get shorter, and the leaves begin to drop, you can sense something in the air. With the coming of the first frost, we prepare ourselves to settle in for the winter ahead. Some will choose to hibernate, while others will take flight and head south for the season. For some of us though, this is only the beginning of the season that gets us through the rest of the year.

While there is no historic text directly claiming Ullr to be the god of snow, modern interpretations have earned him a following that can not be argued with. Often depicted with long skis, watching over snow covered peaks, no other god commands prayers for snow in the way that Ullr does.

When Ullr descends on the mountains, there is no mistaking his presence. you can feel it in the air. Whether it is the crisp bite of the cold night air, or the strange dull silence that accompanies a fresh blanket of snow, you know that something has changed. Someone else entirely is in charge of the heavens now.

In honor of his return, we flock to the high country to make sacrifice. Some choose only to sacrifice a day of work, or a few hours of class. Others, though, sacrifice a life time in the name of chasing the deepest, whitest snow around.

The Ullr influence can manifest itself through people in many ways. Undoubtedly you have seen it, whether you know it or not. Maybe you have been lucky enough to sit in traffic along I-70 after a day in the mountains, or maybe you have simply prayed for a snow day. But one thing is for certain, when winter finally comes around, there is no escaping it. The Ullr Influence will run down your spine like a cold shiver, and drive you through the frosty days ahead.