Skiing Sympathies

Living in Little Cottonwood Canyon during the winter, I'm lucky to be able to enjoy backcountry skiing in both wilderness and watershed areas, zones that are free (read - prohibited) of snow-machine travel.  If you're reading this, most likely you're a skier or snowboarder, and even if you use an old beat-up sled to get deep into the mountains, once you're there you probably trade it for skins and slog your way up the mountainside to earn your face shots.  Backcountry skiing is about solitude and isolation, a dance with the wilderness.  When not used correctly, snow-machines can create a noisy, hectic, and often dangerous atmosphere.  If you value you value the solitude and serenity of a quiet mountain range dressed in white, then you should know this: on June 18th, the Forest Service issued a long-awaited rule for public comment on designating areas as open or closed to winter motorized vehicles, this is a good first step, but comments from our backcountry community can make it stronger! Your help is both needed and essential to capitalize on this opportunity to bring balance to the backcountry.  By designating specific trails and areas where over-snow vehicle use may occur, winter travel planning is an opportunity to bring balance to the backcountry.  The community of backcountry skiers needs to be heard!  Please consider adding your comment to the voices of support for human-powered winter recreation.  To get a better grasp of the issues at hand, and help you draft a comment worthy of consideration, the Winter Wildlands Alliance has put together a very helpful page to aid you in navigating this beurocratic issue.  Keep reading to see a few links that can help you along, as well as my annotated comment if you're interested.  LET'S DO THIS!!!

Y.O.B Photo Dump

Nothing fancy here, just a bunch of pictures.  No need to spray a drawn out trip report or step-by-step account of our adventures.  We climbed, we played, we ran errands, we did all the shit everyone else does, only we rode our bikes.  

A Call To Climbers

Here I sit, hand bandaged in gauze and cotton, temporarily sidelined and forcibly inactive.  The slightest miscalculation and most seemingly insignificant accident and I’m left with a torn ligament in my thumb, and it’s resulting surgical repair.  After another summer of movement and adventure, I anticipated returning to a relatively sedentary winter existence, one with an abundance of reflection and introspective time, but this is hardly what I expected.  A sense of déjà-vu pervades as I re-live Liz’s recent injury and remind myself that life is full of surprises, their being good or bad depends entirely on perspective, which in turn itself relies upon your grasp of reality, your worldview and your version of sanity.  So as I recline with the subdued awareness I will not be climbing for months, that my work and play in the mountains will be limited equally, I cannot help but feel excitement and optimism for the future, and know I might be a little insane for doing so.

An Interview with Kyle Dempster

A few weeks ago I had the privilege of speaking with Kyle Dempster about his 2011 trip to Kygyzstan and the resulting film, The Road from Karakol.  In 2011 Kyle took his bicycle and cycled around the mountains of Kyrgyzsan climbing and adventuring, eventually riding through China and into Pakistan to climb some more.  Kyle is an award winning alpinist who’s at the leading edge of modern climbing.  It was a treat to get to talk to him about his experiences in Kyrgistan and what he thinks about the environment’s role in the evolution of alpinism and the incredible miracle of Cycling Alpinism!  Enjoy!

Pfeiffer-Porn

Although this is a re-run of a post I did for The Skierboyz, I thought I'd share it with you here as well.  Gives you a look into some of our off-duty wintertime activities.  Journalistic integrity aside, I'm not above re-publishing some low-key writing and pictures of a good time.  Enjoy!

A Case for Place

I haven't been cycling in months.  Although this might come as some sort of sad irony in light of this blog being born from bicycle-powered adventure, I'm not really that broken up about it.  Sure, I miss the bike, and those long warm rides in the mountains, but I miss it like I miss asparagus or basil, those ephemeral staples of spring and summer that might be short lived, but they have a time, and will be back next season.  For now I'm loving the winter, the numbing cold, the short days parenthesized by extended darkness, the styrofoam crunch of snow under my skis, and the unparalleled beauty of the play of light on mountains dressed in white.  I'm embracing the winter for what it is: now.

Links You'll Like

Sometime during the winter of 2011, shortly after our decision to embark on this car-less adventure, I began what has become an in-depth and on-going, online research project into human powered adventure and the car-less lifestyle.  The internet is a vast place and while I've only begun to probe its deeper depths I do feel like I've scratched enough of the surface to create a small offering of interesting links and information to share with you.

Enchantments Part 3, Little Annapurna and the Knitting Needles

This will be the last installment in a series of posts about our last big hurrah in the Stuart Range.  If you missed out, check out the overview, a report on some adventure-neering up the south side of McClellan Peak, and a pioneering scramble up the south face of Enchantment's Southwest Peak.  This post is from day 6 of our trip, another great day of unknown adventure climbing at its finest.  We topped out on two of the highest Knitting Needles and blazed a line up the South face of Little Annapurna Peak.  Capped off with an amazing sunset this day was one I'll not soon forget.

How to take a rest day in the mountains.

Truth be told, the only rest day Liz and I took on our recent 7-night trip in the Enchantments was our first full day in the alpine.  After slogging alongside Snow Creek and the 10-12 miles up to our base camp, a good meal and a nights rest were in order.  When the next day dawned, I was up and ready, taking in the beautiful surroundings and turning over all the endless possibilities that may fill the days ahead.  Although we both felt relatively well for having shouldered some big-ass packs for almost 5,000 vertical feet and 9 hours the day before, we thought it'd be wise to take a day to rest and recuperate, which took the form of a casual stroll up the broad Northeast shoulder of Little Annapurna Peak.  The next day, ready for adventure, we tackled our first adventure, a combination of 5th class climbing and scrambling over the Nightmare Needles and up the convoluted Southern expanse of McClellan Peak.  Check out the wright up here, or just look below, HA!

Nightmares, Neverland, and Big Mac

Lil' Purna from Big Mac

It was our third day camped out in the headwaters of Crystal Creek.  We were as close to the edge of the permit zone of the Enchantment Basin, in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness, as we could get.  Two days ago we had left Leavenworth with 50+ pound packs, loaded with food, fuel, and enough climbing equipment to keep us busy for over a week.  The awkward and oversized packs barely fit in our bicycle trailers and the thought of flat tires was a real threat on my mind.  We reached the trailhead without incident, and began the slog-fest to the high peaks above.  The 10+ mile approach took about 9 hours, and I was happy we made for an early start when around 5 o'clock in the evening we found a suitable spot, hidden, out of the way, and near abundant fresh water.  My ass had suffered, with at least one spot rubbed raw by the oversized expedition pack I was carrying.  Without a scale I'll never know exactly how much my pack weighed, but my earlier excitement with carrying two ropes, 9 days of food, a tent, bag, and daypack had turned into happiness that I hadn't injured myself carrying all this gear that most likely topped out at over 70 lbs, and was, hopefully, the heaviest pack I'll ever carry.

Higher Ground

For the last week Liz and I had a base camp high in the Enchantment Peaks.  With Eastern Washington burning around us, many of the climbers and residents of Leavenworth and nearby towns have run off to seek higher ground and an escape from the smoke.  For those with automobiles, escape means Washington Pass, North Cascades, Smith Rock, or a variety of other destinations.  For Liz and I, not limited but bound to human power, we put our hopes on the high country of the Enchantment Peaks.  With fires blocking access to some of our bigger goals, we had to re-think our plans, and make the best of a world on fire.  We were rewarded with many days of clean air, some days of smoke, and one of the best times anyone could ask for.

Shakaka Unbound

Smoke Storm.

For the past week fires have raged in Eastern Washington.  The "Wenatchee complex" as it is known, is contributing to hazardous and unhealthy air quality in Wenatchee and Leavenworth.  Another fire on Mt. Cashmere in the Icicle canyon has lead to road and trailhead closures.  For Liz and I, this has meant a second look at our objectives and goals for these last few weeks of our stay here in Leavenworth.

Burn it down.

Family and Friends.

Fall is underway here in Leavenworth.  Kids are back in school, the light is softer and the air has a chill.  Liz and I are finished with work for the season and for us this means an opportunity to use the changing of the seasons as a time for personal reflection and growth.  For a lot of climbers this much time off would warrant road trips or weekend visits to nearby destinations, but for Liz and I, this time is a stay-cation. We've been reading, catching up on the missed yoga, enjoying using our oven again, and generally enjoying life.  The cooler temperatures mean we've been able to get back down to the crags and domes that line the canyons, the rubber on our shoes is feeling a little stickier and our palms a little less sweaty.  We've had some visitors this week as well, my brother Taylor managed to make it our for a short visit, getting a quick tour of the area with a hike up to Stuart Lake and a lap up the tireless Castle Rock, sending the six pitches of Catapult and Midway with ease.  Scotty's back with Shakaka and has fallen right into our routine of climbing and laughing, and drinking coffee.

Dragontail Peak, Serpentine Arete

When we arrived in Leavenworth this spring, it was the first time either Liz or myself had ever seen the town, the Stuart Range, or the Cascades.  A dry ski season had left us with strong legs, weak butts, and a voracious appetite for climbing.  With only our bicycles for transportation our appetite was indeed larger then our ability for those first few weeks.  Slowly we worked our way into the season with short trips up the Tumwater and Icicle canyons, the packs on our backs were heavily laden with gear.  Hobo's Gulch, Clem's Holler, Castle Rock, Pearly Gates, we methodically worked our way up the road, each ride a little farther, each climb a little harder.  After a while we wised up and put some slick tires on our bikes and threw down some dough for a couple of B.O.B. trailers to get the gear off our backs and save our asses some unnecessary pain.  We've come a long way since those first weeks of this human powered season, our cycling has become more efficient, faster, and more pleasurable, and our climbing has improved in the same ways.  Not only the physical nature of our trips has increased though, the mental toughness required to undertake a multi night adventure in this style is demanding.  Should either of us be hurt or otherwise compromised, we're a long walk and ride from town.  The more we've become accustomed to this risk and accepted its many challenges, physical and mental, the more successful, exciting, and purely awesome our trips have become.  On our most recent bicycle-powered excursion into the Stuart Range, we wanted to push the envelope even farther by undertaking a committing alpine climb, from town, all human power, in one day.  We aimed high, and were rewarded with one of the finest climbs, and most rewarding experiences of the summer.

Dragontail Peak's 2000 ft. Serpentine Arete.

Mountains, Mobility, and The Nature of Motion

Who remembers their first time riding a bike?  Although most of my childhood memories exist as snapshots and short films in my mind, I can pretty well recall my first experiences of two wheeled ecstasy.  While my trike and training wheel days might be lost in the haze, that first time I managed to balance and pedal my way across the front lawn has stuck with me to this day.  The sheer delight of those few moments being pushed between my mother and father, and eventually learning to roam around under my own body's power are powerful memories that I'll be hard pressed to forget.

The bicycle is nothing new, and it's anything but unpopular, everyone from the homeless to the most affluent, the cyclist riding purely for transportation to that of the racer riding for physical achievement, everyone who's ever ridden a bike has experienced this ultimate, and simple, childlike happiness.

Riding a bicycle can give you the sensation you are flying, it is an experience filled with joy.

Yes, slogging up steep mountain roads in blazing heat with no wind can be an unforgiving experience, and riding alongside speeding traffic has lead to many a near-death experience, but the satisfaction of moving under your own power, and the knowledge that at some point you'll be cruising downhill with the wind on your face, trees and scenery whizzing by, is enough to keep you pushing to the top.

Not many people learn to ride a bicycle after they're 10 years old, it's something they learn to do as a kid, and it'll stick with you for life.  I haven't heard of anyone learning to ride a bicycle purely for it's efficiency and mobility, in fact, when I ask most people why they ride their bikes, the most popular answer I get is "for fun".  For many folks, the choice to ride a bicycle for commuting and transportation is less about why you want to ride your bike then about why you don't want to drive a car.  A life choice so seemingly at odds with the ease and independence of the modern world is likely to spark discussion and debate about our many different world views. For myself, as for many others, this choice came about as more of an evolution than a decision.  Today I'm writing to give some insight into what the Nature of Motion is all about, why I no longer want to own a car, and more importantly why I think the bicycle is such a simple solution and amazing means of transportation.  Basically, here are some words about why I'm so happy to forgo the car, ride a bike, and climb mountains.

The Mole and The Shrew

Sounds like the beginning to a children's story, but these two peaks help form the quartet of spires that is the Rat Creek Group.  This collection of towers lies just a few short miles from Icicle Road as the crow flies, but a world away when you consider the trail less expanse of bushwhacking and blow downs separating it from would-be climbers.  For our first single day alpine attempt, town to town, human powered, we chose the Mole, the largest in this quartet of spires lying just in view from the bottom of the canyon.

Rat Creek Group.

Sherpa Peak

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Finding an "off the beaten track" adventure in the Stuart Mountains can be a challenging experience.  The popularity and history of this small range have worked to make for an accessible, well known group of mountains.  There are, however, a few areas that receive little attention and fewer people then the well known basins and crags of this classic alpine paradise.  The drainage of the east fork of mountaineer creek, between Argonaut and Sherpa peaks is one of these places.  Combine this with the challenge of a completely human powered approach and you've got yourself a weekend.  Liz and i set out with a few scraps of route info and headed into this lesser known corner of our backyard.

Prusik Peak

Bike, Hike, Climb.  A short trip report from another human powered adventure into the heart of the Stuart Range.

Outer Space into Orbit

Last week we wanted to "take it easy", which more often than not means that instead of a big trip we end up having some very long and hard days.  This was no exception.  No car, no problem.

Backbone Ridge

Our fist human powered trip from town to climb an alpine route in the Stuart Range.

After a couple of months of cragging, and only getting our toes wet in the mountains, Liz and I were ready to try what we came here to do, high alpine climbing.