Decision Making in the Avalanche Terrain of a Developing Mind

                27 of the 53 days I have spent on skis so far this season have been outside of resort boundaries and off groomed nordic track.  On a good day, which there have been quite a few of lately I love skiing the resort about as much as Flava Flav loves New York and big clock necklaces.  But the backcountry offers me an escape that the lifts sometimes cannot. When I’m out there it’s just my partner, the mountains, and I, no social distractions, skittle thugs, or dean of students to talk too. Just us, on our own unguided and untracked experience.  But the potential cost of our solitude is something that often comes into my mind.  I am an aggressive and young skier and so are the majority of my partners.  While I enjoy skinning through the woods and surfing low angle powder snow nothing is more rewarding than alpine views and big white canvases with s-shaped signatures. And so I seek to find myself in these in these wild places every time the opportunity is present.

                The prefrontal cortex of our brains is responsible for, memory, emotion, and rational decision making. This area of our brain reaches morphological maturity around the same time as puberty but its size is not relative to function until later years of life.  It has been confirmed that the prefrontal lobes continue to both quantitatively and qualitatively develop into our early twenties.  The fact that the part of my brain responsible for both decision and emotion is still developing weighs heavy on my mind quite often.  A bad decision in the backcountry could produce an un-erasable result and have effects that cascade far beyond my own selfish quest for fulfillment; to my parents, my friends, and even the arm chair quarterbacks that seem to comprise much of the online backcountry community.

                Because danger is inherent in wild snow skiing I make it a point to follow the snow and weather with intent and passion.  I have fun on tours where my only goal is to look at the snow and a get a picture of what might be in shape.  I try to treat every outing like a re-con mission and it has led to more and more amazing summits and safely opened doors. But skiing powder snow is probably one of the most emotional things I have ever done. I mean what experience is more instantly gratifying than momentary weightlessness in a cloud of shimmering crystals? It’s impossible for me to say with absolute assurance that the undeveloped part of my brain responsible for both emotion and decision will always make the correct call. Can I trust myself to overpower emotions with rational every time? So far I think I have done a pretty good job, I've pulled the plug more than I have flipped the switch and I've only regretted turning on the lights once.

                Skiing is probably the coolest thing I have ever done, but as for the coolest thing I have ever had? My family takes the cake without a doubt and my frontal lobe better be able to remember that on top of every line for the rest of my life.

Zach proving it never hurts to go home early, this photo is from my first big ski tour (Sheelite Canyon , Jan 2011).We didn't climb or ski the entire couloir because my gut wasn't right. Two day's later a solo skier triggered a 2 foot deep slab that ran over 1,000 feet in the upper part of the canyon.

Ski uphill.

Ski uphill,

and aspire to move quickly,

but allow time to muse in the whistle of the wind,

gain a new perspective on where you have already been,

when you get to the top, 

take it all in,

point 'em downhill,

and let the pow shred begin.

I know skiers from rad places

Before I came to Colorado I thought the only place a true skier could be born was in the mountainous west.  In my ignorant Californian eyes the mid-west was nothing but a bunch of back of the boot side slippers, and the south, well, I’ll spare the time questioning their “mountains” but does it even snow there? So here I find myself in Colorado and woe to my surprise I know skiers from rad places, most of them without mountains. 

The Virginian Gavin, getting it done early season.

In my eyes it doesn’t take too much to be a skier, just a love for carving, slashing, pizzaing or french frying. If you have a stoke for downhill bliss or an affinity for the uphill pain cave it’s no matter; you are a skier. In the past year I have met more improbable skiers than a spoiled western kid could have ever imagined existed.  While a lot of my friends do hail from the American west a special few don’t and together we’ve shared some epic turns. 

Jonathan skinning in Eldeberry Canyon.

Jonathan, my eighth grade earth science teacher hails from Pittsburgh Pennsylvania and is a Tele-whacker at its finest.  He was the first person with the patients and willingness to take this over eager 15 year old into the backcountry.  While Jonathan isn’t the next Bode Miller, he knows how to move safely in the mountains and is a superb teacher. The first time this east coaster let me break trail he didn’t know he had just handed me the reigns to the last four years of my life, for that I can’t thank him enough.

Zach booting his way up the Harrington Couliour on the Thomson Ridge.

My second ski partner came in the package of another teacher, this one with a little different style. Zach was a pro snowboarder in his teenage years, shredding the icy jumps of Wisconsin and traveling for competitions, he found lust in the terrain park at a young age and a deeper love for the mountains of the west after graduating college in Madison, Wisconsin.  Being my high school woodshop teacher we would talk mountains all week long, and often have a scheme to get out in them come Saturday morning.  As time went on and trips began to accumulate Zach and I’s relationship evolved beyond a mentorship and into my first partnership. Our goals aligned and we communicated freely with each other on both rock and snow. Zach’s talked my head down on my scariest leads, shreds pow like a pro (oh wait) and we have accomplished many of my biggest day together. 

Elias sent a huge front 180 of this cliff in the Monarch BC last season

I met Elias because he was talking about snow, when most of the people around the campfire were too far gone to talk about the clothes they were wearing.  It caught my ear and on that fall evening I not only met the first Greek Native of my life but found a true soul shredder hidden underneath that signature Hawaiian shirt, and helicopter hat.  Elias and I haven’t shared any turns together this season but I enjoy his company and intellect in the mountains as much as anyone.  He was part of my first epic in Colorado last November where he kept his cool soloing chossy fourth class and thin ice on Mount Sneffels. Elias arcs the cleanest turns I have ever seen on a board. This guy is more than olive oil and hummus and he will prove it to you with out trying if you give him the chance!

Dylan skiing some great snow on our S.L.U.T yesterday. (Super, long, uphill, tour)

Though I owe many more flatlanders props for changing my mind about what exactly it takes to breed a true skier I’ll finish this one up with a little about Dylan.  Dylan, was born and raised in Texas, yup, Texas. He came to school here in Gunnison because he’s a fishing fool and the Valley holds some of the best trout fishing in the nation.  He quickly found skiing after arriving and hasn’t quite putting effort into it for the four years he’s been here.  Dylan is currently one of my most prized partners in the mountains. Coming from the Sierra’s I grew used to long approaches for shorter ski’s, here in Colorado you can start earning your turns straight out of the car. But that’s not Dylan’s style and nor is it mine. He’s a wilderness skier at its finest, keen on long days, big vert, and bigger views.   We share many of the same goals and never have a shortage of things to talk about. He’s always ready to go peak around the corner, or gain the extra thirty feet even though it never really matters.  We check each other when our route choice is crap and never take it too personally, bounce ideas off each other, and have proven our ability to back down from a beautiful run that just doesn’t add up.  But the best thing about Dylan? Well, it might be his love for Teocalli Tamale Burritos, after a long day off-piste.  

So here's to skiers, of all disciplines, shapes, sizes, and backgrounds!

The last few weeks; Thanksgiving, A Woman in Red, Skimo, Family, Friends, and Finals

Wheeler Ridge as seen from the top of one of
my favorite mining road climbs.

                It has been a busy few weeks since my first post. The end of the semester pressure really started to settle in after returning to Gunnison from an awesome Thanksgiving break at home in Bishop. Going home is always a stellar treat, it can be hard to see everyone I want to reconnect with in just a week but Thanksgiving was a complete success. Ryan, Kyle and I left Grand Junction at three AM on a Saturday to drive 12 hours on snowy roads home. When we finally got our first views of the valley from the top of Montgomery Pass, I was as always, blown away by the beauty. That afternoon I went for one of the best runs I have been on, EVER. It felt like I was floating, cruising the wonderful dirt roads that had liberated me from so many of my worst moments growing up. It was cold and cloudy, a fresh snow coated the valley’s walls. Euphoria hit at about mile 3 and I found myself chanting this as I drifted along;

                                            Follow your nose to where the rabbit brush grows,

                                            Take yourself home to where there is a sage and cottonwood forest to roam,

                                            Sights like these, bring even the strongest deities to their knees,

                                            Your mountains painted in gold, cumulonimbus will never grow old,

                                            It may be sunset, but please do not fret,

                                            It is only day one, enjoy your break,

                                            Have some fun!

"Take yourself home to where there is a sage and cottonwood forests to roam"

                And that I did. The next six days were little short of incredible. On Sunday I raced the last Owens Valley Cyclocross of the season on my Grandpas old StumpJumper, without a seat! We bbq’d after as-per-usual and I reconnected with some of my favorite people in the valley, love you Aerohead Crew! On Monday I had Coffee with Zach, and tried to retrieve some gear for Kevin and his friend under their new route on the illusive, Coyote Crags. Massive cat tracks just a few meters away from their gear in a very tight canyon turned me around, and it ultimately ended up being an incredible hike up a canyon that few get to experience and one I have been wanting to wonder for a number of years. On Tuesday Zach and I figured we would test our luck on a ski in Bishop Creek. Little to our surprise the 2 foot reports at Aspendale were bunk and we enjoyed a mellow XC style tour up to South Lake instead of pow laps on Table Mountain. On Wednesday I did yard work for Grannie and my Dad all day, it was actually a nice change of pace, I think I stuffed something like 14 bags of leaves, and got to take my little cousins Charlie and Jade on an adventure to the beautiful Bishop landfill! On Thanksgiving Day I forwent the usually Turkey Day group ride though the Buttermilks and enjoyed a solo ride on my beloved alluvium south of town. It was a strangely emotional ride, crushing Grandpas bike on the dirt roads that are responsible for one of my current addictions seemed to resonate somewhere deep inside. Later that afternoon before our feast, my Bro Jess, and I took Grannie on a hike to the tree we spread Grandpas ashes at in the Buttermilk Country. I love that spot and being out into the hills with my Grandma is such a treat. She has a beautiful outlook to share on life and is a nature lover at its finest. On Friday, Dad, Jess, and I built a sweet aluminum car-port at my Dads newest project, two rental houses down town. I am always amazed by how much that man takes on and blown away by the standard of work he holds himself too, AWESOME! Later that night Jess and I had a blast with many of our high school friends at Chance’s, Second Annual Giving Thanks to Beer Pong Tournament (nice work Erwin). And finally on Saturday, I rode the bike to Keoughs Hot Springs were I met Trevor and Chance for a soak. Then headed up to Mammoth in the evening where I enjoyed a sunset skin up to the top of Saddle Bowl, watching the sun drop behind the Minarets was a perfect way to end my week long Eastside Adventure.

I guess people have been riding the sandy alluvial's for awhile, I took these film photo's in the seventh grade on an after school ride.

          I don’t think I should bore you with all the details of the past two weeks at school; it has mainly been finishing up a couple of final essay’s, studying for exams, and trying to wisely ration my ski time.  The first week back was great, the resort was skiing just about as good as it every was last season, and I was able to squeak in a 5am solo tour up Mount Emmons on Tuesday. Matt and I raced in our first Ski Mountaineering race ever on Saturday and did surprisingly well! A more detailed write up I did about that can be found here. http://wscumountainsports.com/wordpress/?p=1203 Matt and I are registered as partners for The Elk Mountain Grand Traverse in March and highly stoked on an epic season of ski touring ahead! 

Sam and Dylan cruising Mount Emmon's ridge in smile inducing light.

                And finally what I set out to write this post about, on Thursday myself and two other weird people that enjoying skiing uphill just about as much as down; Sam, and Dylan, cruised a magical sunset lap on Red Lady Bowl. We left Gunnison at 12:30 after I finished crushing my Chem Lab final and Sam and Dylan got out of class. I was excited to pick up my new ski’s for the tour that were supposed to have been mounted that morning at the Alpineer, but of course when I showed up to grab them they had just hit the vice’s and were about thirty minutes out.

Sam-O slaying wind buff on his first trip down the Lady.

               It was a tough decision but I sent Dylan and Sam on their way and waited for patiently for my new babies to be delivered, I had to have them! I got suited up in the shop and read some ski porn while I waited. After they were done I headed down the road and hitched a ride to the trail head. This went surprisingly quickly, Crested Buttes highly laid back and small community oriented culture is pretty conducive to free lifts to the TH.  I think I showed up about 40 minutes behind Sam and Dylan and got to boogy’n.  While the new set-up is quite a bit heavier than my older and thinner sticks, it climbed with ease, my legs were feeling great, and it was warm enough out to skin in just a baselayer! A pleasant change from the sub-arctic

temps we endured earlier in the week. By about 3:30 I had caught up to my boys just above tree line. We skied the windboard and pow in the upper bowl and traversed over to what we were hoping would be soft powder snow in the Pony-Tail Glades but were sadly disappointed with a couple inches of breakable solar crust, awe to be a wild snow skier. I enjoy variable conditions in the backcountry. I think it adds to the feeling of really being “out there”, and the added challenge of trying to predict conditions can be an especially fun game, from waking up and reading the avy report and weather Forecast first thing every morning, to trying to inspect as many aspects as you can in a day. Skiing out of bounds really just comes together as a great excuse for playing outside as much as possible, in the most wonderful places on earths.

Out by dark, with time for Marg's and Double-Deckers at Teocali Tamale!

Where are your values?

             I value the snow, blue sky, brown pow, and clear water, dirt underneath my fingernails, and delicious family dinners. There really isn’t much that matters to me besides ending the day with a smile and feeling like maybe, Today, I did something right. Sometimes that means doing what some people see as wrong. 

            A few days ago I missed class, that entire route finding thing with all the whumphing, cracking, and shearing really got us on edge. It took hours to get to some safe terrain and you know what, that 500 foot shot skied pretty fucking incredibly! So we did it again, and then it was time to get back for the 2pm lab. But the stoke had been revived smiles and powder snow were finally covering our faces, while still cautious we were feeling righteous, anxiety had eased and leaving just might not be the right thing. So let’s roll the dice. After all the calculated decision making we endured to get here this morning if there was ever a time for chance, it was now.

Sam and Kitt enjoying some of the more straight forward route finding of the day

“You got a quarter?”

“Nope. How about a Clif Bar?”

“If the nutrition facts land right side up were skiing until heel risers from heaven couldn’t even drag us up this thing. If the calories are down I am going to class.”

“Come on Calories!”

“Nutrition’s up, let’s go farming!”

Sam getting a taste of something valuable.

                Snow changes, text doesn’t. Meiosis 1 and 2 aren’t going anywhere. I will be replicating cells until… well; I am not replicating cells anymore.  I value smiles on my friend’s faces, jokes in the skin track and those willing to see higher education though a slightly distorted lens.  My life is probably quite different from the average college sophomores and I am willing to admit it. But please don’t get me wrong I value education and becoming a well-rounded and intellectual individual is one of my greatest life goals.  But I am like most, a product of my environment; early on I found out that when things are wrong I find solace in the silence of the hills, and that when things are right the giants usually aren't too far away.

                I came to school in Colorado for the same reason most of the people I meet here did; to experience the wonders of mountain living.  In Gunnison the words “Higher Education” can be given a profoundly different definition. While my classrooms provide an invaluable outlet for intellectual expression and creativity, it’s the miles of single track minutes from campus and seemingly endless backcountry ski terrain just up valley that keeps me motivated to study and play hard.