Showing posts with label skiing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label skiing. Show all posts
Monday, February 20, 2012
Step into Winter
So I broke my promise, but let's be honest. I'm ok with it, and so are you.
After one of my longest fun-droughts ever, getting a flat tire, and working full time at a real job, I was pretty sure the apocalypse was actually just around the corner.
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| When Burlington looks like this in February, the Himalaya probably look like this. |
And we all know it just gets worse when John Cusack walks into the room...
Fortunately, friends decided that, snow or not, they were going skiing and snowboarder or not, I was coming with them. They probably just wanted to see how good I was at skootching.
They also needed a guide. Since I was the most experienced backcountry enthusiast of the group, and I'd been to the zone a handful of times before, I took the lead. Unfortunately, I also needed a guide, but we'll get to that later.
The view speeding by through the window was disheartening as we drove through the foothills of the green mountain spine, bare except for a few patches of white in the deepest shadows. Worse yet was passing several rivers entirely locked in with ice. Apparently it's been just cold enough to keep rivers from running, but warm enough that no snow will last. Definitely an apocalypse.
Despite these conditions, morale was high, and there was just enough snow to convince us to strap the skis and snowboard to our backs and begin hiking up. That's when we discovered we were way out of shape.
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| I don't care what it looks like, it felt like climbing Everest. |
Fun-droughts will do that to you. At some point we started questioning whether the shredding would be worth the hike, and I think that's something we always do, but this time was way worse. We were hiking in t-shirts and still sweating, and the snow was crunchier than the girls in the Rubenstein School at UVM. Not a good sign...
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| Joe: Hey bros, I'm gonna grab some poutine, anyone want a snack? Taylor: Nah bro, I heard Tom Wallisch doesn't eat that stuff anymore because it's scientifically proven to make your toes get colder in ski boots. |
Then again, maybe I was the only one focused enough on the snow to worry about the hiking.
After several breaks and much complaining, we reached the top, which isn't actually the top. An extra 5 minutes of hiking along the ridge followed before we finally switched over to descend mode. That's kind of like when Optimus Prime transforms, except less noisy, quickly, and not cool at all. After nearly descending into super dense spruce hell, we cut out into some open glades and had a generally fantastic time.
Since the slope was north facing, the snow was significantly less crunchy, and in some cases even powdery.
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| No, not that kind... |
There was a heavy (if thin) base beneath the fluffy stuff that kept things covered well enough, and I didn't even fall. Well, not on my first lap. Stepping into the backcountry in uh, variable snow conditions is always a little sketchy, at least for me, since I'm not any of these people. I took a few diggers on the second lap, but nothing consequential.
After a long hike back to the top, we began hiking along the ridge towards our initial trail up, but soon realized we were very, very far away.
Taylor saved the day, spotting a nice cut line that we followed down straight to the cars. And by straight I mean traversing for a long ways and then kind of zig zagging for a while. The snow was super fast, crusty, and hard to carve into. There were also bare spots, which are not to be confused with bear spots.
So overall, conditions weren't great, but I'm just glad I made it out this winter with some good friends.
(Even if my snowboard's base hates me for it)
Shred on my friends!
After a long hike back to the top, we began hiking along the ridge towards our initial trail up, but soon realized we were very, very far away.
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| I'm not exactly sure how we did it, but things got very strange, very quickly |
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| "Guys, I spotted Bear Grylls and he's drinking his own.. Don't make eye contact!" |
(Even if my snowboard's base hates me for it)
Shred on my friends!
Saturday, January 28, 2012
White Noise
The topic suggestion for this week was "shredding pow," so I tried to take an interesting approach towards a sport I've grown to love. A sport with some incredible sights and often overlooked sounds. This essay is about a few of those sounds, and how they end up falling into my daily life like so many proverbial drifts of snow. I give you...
White Noise
Once you hear it, it never stops. You hear it on the radio,
in traffic, even in the rise and fall of voices at a party, and the longer you
go without hearing the real thing, the louder it gets. Sometimes, it’s all you
can make out.
The soft hiss of powder snow parting on the base of a
snowboard or ski will enchant you if you let it. It sticks with you and calls
you back to the winter woods.
That’s where the magic happens, where the symphony is
unleashed. It starts with the breath; a soft huff of air that grows evermore apparent with each step. Then the
crunch of snow beneath the snowshoes. It creaks and crunches as it compresses,
creating a steady rhythm for the ascent. The thump and rush of blood to the
head builds in tempo, reaching a rapid and deafening crescendo before winding
down for a dramatic suspension.
The drum roll of bindings being tightened hints at a new
beginning. The rhythmic pulse of breath slows and nearly silences. Replacing it
is the rush of air through your ears; a rush bringing new meaning to
wood-winds, rising and falling in a lilting melody that coincides with your
speed. The staccato snap of tree branches under heavy loads of snow provides a
drumbeat of percussion.
Some people never experience it, and experience is more apt
a term than hear, for backcountry shredding is something to be felt, seen,
smelled, and tasted. It establishes perspective, so that the finer melodies of
day to day life are appreciated in new ways. The blustery walk to work feels
warmer after dawn patrol on the wind-blasted peaks. The sandwich at lunch a
little richer after the granola bar on the trail.
It’s easy to tell who hears the music; they seem adrift in
its tonal shifts. In the hush that follows a heavy snowfall, you can sometimes
catch them humming along. The white noise grows inside of them, shaping their
facades: a slight tan starting just below the cheekbones and ending at the
neck, a slight smile as forecasters call for feet of snow, perhaps a scruffy
beard colonizing a usually clean shaven face. But the innocent tune whispering in
the back of their mind shapes much more than their physical appearance.
The true maestros and aficionados start behaving differently
the second the leaves begin to fall. They lose focus, drifting into endless
gazes towards barely visible peaks. A sudden interest in exercise or
willingness to walk the dog follows. People who couldn’t tell you when the last
time it rained if their life depended on it begin reading technical weather
reports, spouting off barometric pressure readings and following NOAA on
Twitter.
No matter who you are, though, there’s an inaudible music to
snow gently falling in the night. Those of us who ski and snowboard yearn to
magnify and lengthen our exposure to that music.
To us, there’s nothing more beautiful than the sound of
White Noise.
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About Me
- Eric
- I am a freelance writer and photographer, collector of experiences, adventure lover, and outdoor goer.
