Turkey Day goes Lobster Week

Thanksgiving is without a doubt my favorite holiday. To me, it is the most proper and wholesome holiday there is; a pure observance that truly celebrates the human spirit. When families are brought together around the table, banded together by thanks and appreciation, that is the true essence of the holiday. This year, I was fortunate enough to celebrate the harvest in the Bahamas with my family. It's becoming a tradition of sorts for us, to spend our week together in paradise in our family friend's house on "Briland" — a blissfully tiny island north of the mainland Eleuthera. We're very glad to have such a gracious friend to share his place with us.

When there, I did some testing with my new GoPro. Only a couple of short videos — my focus was on relaxing not filming — but here are some of the photos that turned out! Hope you enjoy...what a beautiful place. The simple island-life reminds me of how truly blessed I am.

Tribute

It has been reported that on Sunday, November 13th, the world lost skiing legend Jamie Pierre to an avalanche in Little Cottonwood Canyon, UT. Jamie was constantly pushing the limits of his sport; his tenacious pursuit of the extreme has forever changed the face of skiing. His death is a harrowing reminder that even our heroes aren't immune to the dangerous whims of nature. But he will always remain an icon to the skiing community.

I remember watching Jamie's segment in the premiere of Warren Miller's Playground at the Minneapolis State Theatre when I was 16. Before the show, he came out on stage to give a warm Minnesotan hello to his hometown crowd. I had no idea he grew up where I did. Another meat and potatoes kid like me? Midwestern skiing has got a lot of heart. If you can put up with the frostbitten tow-rope skiing of Minnesota, you've either got an enormous amount of passion for the sport or you probably sport your Ski-Doo jacket while apres-skiing with a Premium Grain Belt.

Seeing Jamie, another flatlander from my neck of the woods, shred huge lines and drop massive cliffs in a Warren Miller feature was hugely motivational. After seeing that film I was inspired to get out of my element — I had no doubt in my mind that I would be heading west to be in the mountains. Idols like Jamie have given me and many others the spark to get out there and slay it. And for that, I am so very grateful. So here's to endless glades of white. Thank you, Jamie. May you rest in peace.

The hut that shall not be named

Tucked just beneath the western slope of the continental divide, we found shelter from the blustering night in the hut’s dark and time-scoured walls. We left the highway with hours of daylight left, but it almost wasn’t enough time. As darkness fell on the river gully we had been hiking, it was clear that we had overshot our destination. Alex had stayed before at the mountain shack, but during his first trip they had similarly hiked-in in the dark. So we were wandering at this point. And the conditions were starting to worsen. Weather can be brutal on the divide, we were experiencing classic blizzard conditions at 11,000 feet when we put our headlamps on.

Despite our aimless rambling, Alex felt confident that we were close. I suppose I did too, for that matter, maybe I just needed to believe it. Our options were stark…we needed to find the hut, or we’d have to face the bitter defeat of trekking back to the car. I began to ask myself how long I think I could maintain a smile while searching in the dark. But as I’m struggling to keep my stride, I hear hoots and hollers from up above me. Our beloved guide, Alex, had led us in the right direction. Sanctuary at last. We excitedly let ourselves in to view our accommodations. Never before have a seen such a hospitable outpost in the backcountry. It was clear that this hut was a well kept secret who’s patrons are well equipped and generous. In a desolate setting where individual responsibility could cost you your life, this hut is a vivid beacon of community and the human spirit.

As we read the guestbook, it became apparent that we weren’t the only ones who had difficulty finding this place. Every other entry said something like “Can’t believe we found it!” or “Must have walked past it 5 times”. As we continued to read about the hut’s mysterious and legendary origins, it became less of a structure and more of a sacred or spiritual place. A place adventurers and transients can call home. Where respect is the central creed and etiquette means everything.

I’m being as delicate as possible with this post, so as not to tarnish the pure seclusion of this mystic hut. I do not wish to share its name or location…but if you can recognize it from these photos, then you must share the same feeling of stewardship that I do. Here are some shots of our headlamps and lanterns creating a glow in the room through minute long exposures...flash photography is implicitly forbidden in this place.

Side note - aside from guiding us there, alex managed to fit a chainsaw in his pack so we could make our contribution. Last photo proves it, with Matt taking a hack at a log, and Alex sawing away in the background. Enjoy.

Trappings of the Trail

It seems I’ve always lived in a climate where the average Halloween costume necessitates long underwear and Sorel’s. Boulder was graced with nearly twelve inches of heavy snow before the 31^st this year, ripping limbs from trees and causing serious power outages to Xcel’s clusterfuck of a power grid. That’s all I have to say about the municipal utility. But Halloween is over, kids. And that means that new snow is on it’s way to the Rockies. If you haven’t already been out to get some of the snow that’s up high, you’ve hopefully at least endured the lift lines at your local resort’s “opening” weekend to squeeze in some turns. As fall officially turns into winter we will inevitably start seeing more tall-tees, goggle tans, and most importantly — fresh crystalline precipitation.

But there is perhaps something more exciting than new snow in the beginning of the season — new gear. This year, I have labored over the selection and acquisition of my new equipment, something every outdoor enthusiast can relate to. Being a college student, funds are pathetically limited. So I was forced to be creative if I was going to get what I really wanted. My roommate, Cheyne (you can read his blog here, he’s doing some really awesome stuff in the climbing world), is a Craigslist junkie. He outfitted himself for a summer-long big-wall climbing jaunt in Yosemite entirely by swapping out his old, unneeded equipment for the gear relevant to the routes planned on his trip. Cheyne’s dirtbag thriftiness inspired me to do the same myself. One thing was for sure. I needed new boards. My skis had gotten absolutely gored last spring when I was skiing Dead Dog Couloir on Torreys. Here is a photo of my attempt to mend the damage.

The last two seasons have been really rough on my Volkl’s, which are notorious for having a soft(er) base. But even though I didn’t really need anything besides skis for the upcoming year, I didn’t see the harm in turning over my inventory for some fresh hardware. So I wrote up a budget…I mean, that is the rational thing to do, right? If I was going to whore myself off to consumerism, I might as well do it with style and poise. So this was my game plan…

The green column on the left was everything that I was hoping to sell, mostly old racing gear, but some miscellaneous big-ticket items as well. And the green column on the right was my wish list. So if all went as planned, I would come out with a surplus…not a bad prospect. By using my PSIA discount, and by making some crafty phone calls to reps, I was able to get everything in Green column #2 on Pro-forms. As you can see in my riveting, multi-colored spreadsheet, If I had to pay MSRP prices, I wouldn’t have been able to afford new equipment.

This final price of my new equipment was to be inflated with the additional costs of having my bindings repaired — a painfully slow and dreadful process. Marker’s customer service department is less than exceptional. But even after the binding ordeal, I still had money to burn. PLUS, I am on a roll with my craigslisting. Since getting rid of all my old gear, I have gone as far as selling old graphing calculators for spare cash.

Beyond feeling even more like a dirt-broke college kid with an expensive pastime, I was immensely satisfied with my dealings on craigslist. It feels good to make a deal with a complete stranger, knowing that both of you walk away from the exchange with something you didn’t have before but desperately wanted. Using craigslist and industry deals to outfit myself for this season was definitely time consuming, but totally worth it in my opinion. Because even though I feel like a broke college kid, I probably don’t look like one when I’m all booted up. Don’t take this the wrong way…I consider myself to be a minimalist. But who doesn’t like updating their quiver?

Disclaimer

Greetings, Friends!

It’s been some time since I’ve had either the time or inclination to sit here and write — I can’t explain why. Since my last cursory blog post, I’ve had many goings-on that have distracted me I suppose. Summer was a trip. Aside from taking classes at CU, I was an online editorial intern for Bonnier Mountain Group i.e. the offices of Skiing Magazine, Ski Magazine and Warren Miller Entertainment. My duties were largely that of fact checking and busywork, and I respectfully knew my place on the totem pole. But I was graced with several opportunities to compose some small articles of my own. A sample of which you can read here.

The whole experience was very enlightening. I was opened up to a new realm of “work” where my passion for skiing could simultaneously exist with my responsibilities of occupation. Being exposed to the inner workings of a major publication firm — with no previous experience in the field — was daunting yet enormously helpful. Working so closely with seasoned editorial professionals, I have developed a greater sense of the power of language. And perhaps more importantly, considering these “professionals” were ski-bums-at-heart like myself, I’ve also come to appreciate the gratification of working somewhere where the parking lot is filled with bikes, you know your co-workers dogs on a first name basis, bumper stickers cover every imaginable surface, and stoke levels are always high.

But in all seriousness…the whole experience was profoundly inspirational. I have learned so much in the last several months. Not only about my professional aspirations, but also how I wish to document my thoughts and adventures: the chronicles of Rob. But from a less self-absorbed perspective, I would like to share these stories with all who are willing to listen in hopes that I can reach out and spark that same inspiration in someone else.

So consider this my mission statement. It is my intention to use this blog as a platform for my growth as a writer/storyteller/human-being. But through posting my thoughts, photos, and videos, I hope to maybe rouse someone else to pursue their own dreams. Grip it and rip it….at this point in my life, that is my chief motto.

I’ll leave you with the words of Mark Twain, who more eloquently describes the passion for adventure I hope to capture here

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."