Gooney Riders

In the night, again

I was talking to my mom last night and she asked 'When's that ski race?'

 

Tomorrow.

 

She may have said a few more things, but essentially said: Be careful.  Stay warm.  Have fun. Send me the tracking info.  Here it is.  Trackleaders.com

I was writing up a 'race resume' this afternoon for a little snow bike race in the great state of AK and I got to listing events that I've done in the past couple of years.  I had to smirk as I thought of the evolution of my mom's worrying about me over the time period.  Way back in 2009, she thought I was crazy for doing 100 mile races.  When the timing system for 24-hours of Moab went screwy (I basically checked out for another lap but then realized I didn't have to do it, so the timing had me out on a 4+ hour lap) my mom did what all mom's do: she worried.

 

In 2010, she watched with a certain amount of amusement as Chris and I packed bikes and gear for our first attempt at racing the Colorado Trail.  Out on course, she constantly worried when my SPOT tracker coincided with a giant storm cell (which was approximately 90% of the race).  They watched me get pinned at 12,000 feet the last night, I'm sure worried sick while I was snuggled up in my bivy, annoyed at the weather.   After that, going off to Australia to race at 24-hour Worlds didn't seem all that insane, but my dad, who ran my pit, thought it was nuts.

 

In 2011, my mom watched again with amusement as we packed for the CTR.  She went to yoga with me the night before and took me to Safeway to stock up on last minute food items.  Then we went to Little Budda for dinner.  She seemed less worried with the more promising weather forecast.  That, or she finally resigned herself to the idea that her daughter maybe didn't turn out exactly as planned.

 

I think I elevated her level of worry to a new level by signing up for Arrowhead.  She thought I was going to freeze to death but luckily the race did a good job with updating the splits online since I'd failed to get my SPOT to work.  

 

Now a 40 mile ski race to Aspen doesn't seem to phase her.  Call when you get there, she told me.  Have fun.  My mom is awesome.

Seasonal Transition

Tomorrow night at 11 we embark on a 40 mile ski tour from Crested Butte to Aspen.  I've apologized to my feet ahead of time.

Barring a giant snowstorm that would allow the nordic center to groom more than 17km of trail, today is my last day at work.  

 

I see much of this in my future.

And while I am legitimately excited to hike through the night this weekend (and they say there's some snow up high so there might actually be some skiing), it's nearly time for the 2nd annual spring road trip to warmer climes...and that's pretty stinkin' exciting. 

Down The Barrel of the Gun: Teocalli Elevator Shaft.

The snow is disappearing.... fast.  We rode at Hartmans the other day and it was actually sandy.  It was great to rip around with friends on mountain bikes.  

My ski plans have been falling apart lately, so I was pretty excited to get after a committing line with Zach.  It's like a bacon cheeseburger, it will keep you satisfied for a while.  

I had wanted this particular couloir off the North side of Teocalli for a while.  Without a snowmobile its a pretty good approach.  Brush creek road.... was dry.  

I had skied a big North facing couloir off Teocalli in December, but this particular one was interesting for the entrance was a cliff.  

We were able to make turns off the ridge, but then it was a series of cliffs.  We hauled a rope for miles and we talked about simul-rappelling down two parallel chimneys.  We opted to down-climb which was well harder than it looked.  Next time, we are using the rope.  

At some point we were able to put the skis back on our feet and cut into the couloir proper.  

And there we were, in the barrel of the gun.  

There was a choke... that was rather interesting. 

The obvious couloir is the one that we skied in December, and this time we skied the one to the lookers left of our ski tracks.  

It was quite the slog out East Brush, Pearl Pass road, Death Pass and back to the Y were I had stashed some beers... and canned oysters.  From that point it was a 1-2 mile skate out. 

The snow is going fast.  Happy to get a couple good descents in while that white stuff is still around.  Now prep for the GT.... 

Cheers,

Chris 

Joy is.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about Joy recently.  I've found myself in a situation where I've been trying to think my way through the next couple of steps in life, and surprise surprise, it's gotten me nowhere besides frustrated.  I've been trying to pinpoint exactly what 'Joy' is, whether it's a emotional state of being, a physical state of being based purely on hormones being released due to certain triggers, or if it's a habit that we can cultivate.

 

I have this manifesto printed out and hanging above my computer, and clearly I haven't read through it recently because it's been telling me the answer all along.

'If you are looking for the love of your life, stop; they will be waiting for you when you start doing the things you love.'  Replace love of your life with 'Joy' and I think I have my answer.

 

After a very scientific study conducted in a weekend with Salida with Beautywild, I found Joy.  

 

Joy is smiles on trails in shorts and normally sized bike shoes.

Joy is playing in the shadow of amazing mountains.

Joy is the quiet contemplation of beauty.

Joy is a simple, nutritious, and paleo dinner cooked in a cast iron pot in a fire.

Joy is being able to frame everything you need and want in your life between your thumbs and forefingers.

My flight response was running on high before this weekend.  After watching sunrise from a sleeping bag, sunset from a camp chair, observing life from a bike seat on dry trails, I feel more settled.  While nothing changed in the grand plan of life, all of a sudden it seems like the universe has lined my summer up for me perfectly, and all I have to do is get out of my own way.  

 

The Traverse and our Puppy Dog

Maia is a fighter... that's for sure.  She is thirteen yrs old, but she'll fight any dog in the neighborhood.  I think she gets it from her mom. Not to say Eszter is out there picking fights but in spirit. 

She had a bit of a tumor that we had to get lopped off.  I know, we can't even afford a real health insurance plan for our selves and now we are faced with financing the vet bill.  We like to think she's worth it, or maybe I am just a sucker.  

Unfortunately she gets the cone of shame.  She still has an incredible amount of energy for an old lady.  When I take her around the neighborhood in the morning, she walks me.  

The Grand Traverse is in a week.  It's pretty cool how the whole town of Crested Butte gets involved with this race.  I was asked to create a short series about Eszter and I as we do the traverse.   Here is my first edit.

Cheers,

Chris 

 

Return to Gothic

Ever since my first trip to Gothic 5 years ago, I had a strange attraction to it's East Face.  It has a beautiful upper face, with an exciting crux halfway down.  If you ski at the ski area, you can't help but stare at Gothic's beautiful East face.  

Our tracks this morning

Three years ago we went to Gothic for my bachelor party.  That was my first time skiing Gothic and this morning we decided to give it a go again.  I stayed at the gothic huts this past weekend so I knew that there was a passage around the ice-fall.  

Cold temps, and a little new snow provide firm cramponing conditions straight up the Spoon.  Last week the snowpack was not refreezing well and it was pretty rotten.  This morning it was firm and allowed us to cruise up the mountain.  

Our first peek at the East Face

Zach managed to drop his helmet and we watched it slide 3000 feet to the bottom of the West Face.  Yep, he's a professional.  

To our delight it was still pretty cold and we were not real concerned about the snow heating up to much. 

 There was a thin layer of creamy new snow, but we felt our edges on the firm melt-freeze below.  South Maroon in the background.  

the East face... makes one feel very small.  

Sean through the narrows

The crux was a icefall/cliff area that we had to get around

We were able to traverse skiers right of the cliff and exited on the never-ending apron.  

A Crested Butte classic

Nice we are getting some peaks in righ now, because the way things are going the snow will not be around for long.  I really can't argue, getting pretty excited to ride my mountain bike.  

Eszter and I have the Grand Traverse in a week... should be interesting.  I have some media that I have been working on for the race that I will post in the next few days.

Cheers!

Chris 

 

Gothic Reunion

Before Eszter and I even moved to Crested Butte we would stay at the Gothic huts with our Front Range friends. This weekend was a bit of a reunion for me.  Two good friends that I went to high school with in Maryland, and some good friends from our Front Range years.  

Myself, Liam and "Dewey" 

It has not snowed for two weeks, but there is nothing wrong with with a little spring skiing.  

Liam and I got into the mountains together back in the day. In the late 90's we went on backpacking trips to the Adirondacks of NY, Wind Rivers of Wyoming, and the Blue Ridge of Virgina. We always found adventure weather it bushwhacking or going to bars when we were 17 in Montreal after comming out of the woods of upstate NY.  

Liam goes from 0-12,000 feet and carves some turns on Gothic Mountain . 

We set off for a weekend at the Maroon Hut.  

Dewey leads it out to Gothic 

The spoon can be seen in the light on the lookers left of Gothic Peak that we skied that morning. Liam and I skied the East Face seen below in the shade a few years ago, but its looking a bit bony this year.  

While most backcountry skiers access terrain by snowmobiles in this Valley, Gothic remains secluded from snowmobile traffic.  A three mile tour in that's mostly downhill, gives excellent access to the Elk mountains with the solitude of Wilderness.  

Not a bad place to be 

In the morning several of us set off for Bellview

A variety of forms of transportation.  

My old roommate Isaac in a new home 

The line that we wanted to ski turned out to be about a foot deep of rotten snow with a frozen surface, So we chose some ramps that held some nice spring corn.  The snowpack is the thinnest I have ever seen it, but even if this is the worst winter of Crested Butte in the past 30 years I think its still pretty damn awesome.  

Dewey dwarfed by Baldy 

The next morning we headed out as a storm headed in.  Looks like winter will return for a few days.  

Great to catch up with friends that I have not seen a while.  My life life trajectory sometimes seems to be heading at a vector, and  sometimes seems to do circles.   I am grateful for the wonderful people that I have intersected with along the way.  Maybe we'll keep the Gothic hut as an annual tradition!  

Cheers,

Chris 

Garage Sale

We're moving soon and, as all gear junkies, have accumulated plenty of stuff that we don't use anymore.  On tap right now, left over tele stuff and AT boots:

Black Diamond 01 binding size small great shape $115.  Free-pivot touring, best tele bindings ever.  Unfortunately, I've fixed my heel, and thus fixing the face plant in variable snow problem.  Used 1.5 seasons.

Garmont Mega-Ride size 23.5.  Tops are scuffed, but there's still plenty of life in them.  $85.

NTN boots size 27.  Chris used these for three seasons.  $50 or buy us dinner somewhere.

SCARPA T2 size 28.  Low-rise tele boots good for touring around and low angle turns.  Pay for shipping and buy Chris a beer and they're yours.

Leave a comment or email (contact info on right bar of blog) if interested.   

Poverty with a view

I was once asked while pedaling in (early in the winter) by another guy on a bike if I commuted for fitness, pleasure, environmental or financial reasons.  I told him I didn't like to drive.  He laughed and said I didn't look like someone who was riding because I got a DUI and had to get around by bike because of it.  

 

With only three weeks left of the winter working season, I thought I'd do the math.  If I commuted to work 4 days a week on average (I rode every day but 5, 4 of those days I skinned the mountain before work, the 5th I took the bus) for 18 weeks so far with each round trip being 16 miles, that's about 64 miles a week and 1,150 miles in 72 days of riding.  Call the car gas milage 20 mpg, that's 58 gallons saved.  At CeeBee gas prices of $3.25 (that's being generous), that's nearly $190 worth of gas alone.  

 

I can do a lot with $190.  When organic pears are $.99 a lb, that's 190 pounds of pears.  Or when gala apples are 3 for a dollar, that's 570 apples.  Or in more concrete terms, if each day on the Tour Divide is going to cost me $40 in food, that's nearly five days worth of food, which if all goes well, is nearly a quarter of the sustenance I'm going to need for my little adventure.

And I'm still not bored of the view.

I Love Spring!

Things change, progress, and the peaks start to open up! 

Skiing Teo 

Cheers,

Chris