Adventure Winds Through It
Photos from this adventure
So working at Next Adventure is probably one of the top ten jobs in the city. Just come in and ask any of the employees here, and you'll hear Bryan's voice on the radio telling them to get back to work long before they're done telling you why. But every once in a while a need swells from within, building with pressure like St. Helens, that tells you to go get lost. Hit the road with my friend. Seek pleasure elsewhere than this fair city. And I don't mean Mt. Hood or the coast- go get lost for real.
I heard that voice in February. Disgusted at my failed investment in a season pass to Meadows, I needed some real skiing. I also felt the need to lounge in the sun and go rock climbing (but who doesn't?).
One evening while at work, with the help of a phone call from Telluride and Mapquest, I concocted this outrageous roadtrip: Portland to Salt Lake City- ski there till it hurst real good; Telluride to Prescott, AZ- relax with old friends, drinking away the pain in my legs of endless powder; Prescott to Joshua Tree- climb hard in the sun in paradise (yes, paradise); J-Tree to Portland- back to work rejuvenated.
I had the plan, now I needed the players.
Enter Violet: a beaut of a 'Ru, juiced and eager to go like hell on this 3000+ mile adventure across the western US.
Enter Winslow Bacon: kayaker and educator extraordinaire, with a ceaseless passion and enthusiasm for fun. He would join me to Salt Lake.
Enter El Zuapo: previous Ski Dept. Head at Next cum quintessential ski bum and river rat. Enter The Reverend Dr. Sollars: longtime Next goon who works the rivers almost as well as he works the ladies. These two would provide me with shelter and guidance in and through the San Juan backcountry of southwestern Colorado.
Enter Samwise: good old buddy from Jerz, with a tolerance through the roof that would enable me to imbibe enough whiskey and RBV's to relax away the burn. Plus he knows college girls.
Enter Stevo: NOLS instructor supreme, with enough gumption to throw himself on those stoutly graded cracks in Josh just so I could score a sweet top rope.
Off we went.
Winslow and I showed up in Salt Lake and took off to Park City. I had always wanted to ski there, and man it is big. Scored a parking spot "front row", tailgated lunch in style. Fun in the sun: 9-4, riding the last lift. No new snow, lots of New Yorkers, but an exhausting day anyway.
Next day we hit Brighton. Winslow wanted to learn to tele, and I wanted him to burn his snowboard in a small fire out back. He rented the gear and we freeheeled all day in spring like conditions. No crowds, bluebird. No pow, either. But I kept picturing being at Meadows then, and it was okay. Oh wait, Meadows was closed then.
Bacon took a redeye Greyhound back to PDX and I pushed off for Telluride. Great to cruise in the car solo. Man I gotta get an iPod; wrestling two 200+ CD books while driving at 85 is hard.
Telluride. Sick. Real sick.
They had a dumping like a week ago. This made for unstable backcountry, but alas, right when I arrived she settled up and out we went. This was the beginning of Rad Week.
Day one: Lizard Head pass to acclimatize and get some turns through the fluff. Great intro to the San Juans as well as High Altitude Rocketry (which is exactly what it sounds like: model rockets, PBR's, and 12,000+ ft.- look for an upcoming essay bearing the same title by El Zuapo).
Day two: Ophir valley. Sick. Left to ski the Serpent, but found gold in them thar hills: an untracked swath of a bowl. Ripped down this slide-path right back to the valley floor and back to the cabin with skis still on. Some of the best all season, says the Zuap.
Day three: Bear Creek. Lift accessed backcountry that makes you say "Jackson Hole, Schmackson Hole!" Seriously thought I as in Chamonix. I even started talking in French. Started with a tree blast to steep chutes down Reggae, then hiked Gold Hill to the goods. Holy sh*t. This is when I decided I'd be moving to T-Ride next winter.
Day four: dropped off Sollars in Durango last night, and skied Red Mtn. Pass the next day, bluebird. A bit unstable, so we picked a mellow line, downed some PBR's, and simul-skied back to the car 1988-style.
Day five: pounded the bumps and the steeps on the resort. This place will teach you how to ski the hard way: learning through punishment.
That was T-Ride. Now I left for Prescott. Met Samwise for some drinks, and it didn't stop till I left. Soothing whiskey and music in the mellow high-desert hills of Arizona. God's country. Don't remember much, so I'll go on to J-Tree.
Picked up Stevo in Palm Springs (if ever you find yourself there, leave quickly). Climbed at Josh in the perfect weather of early March in the Mojave. Beautiful cracks, some bouldering, and nice people. Never a reason to leave. Going to Josh is going to school: learn how to climb right, or flail hard. The beautiful climbs of Sail Away, the Dairy Queen Wall, and Invisibility Lessons, were a few highlights amid many. This place is so amazing, I get goose bumps just writing this.
For how good Josh is, over a huge cup of coffee Stevo and I decided to make an impromptu move: go to the Valley. Yes, the tutelage would continue, this time we were transferring to Yosemite. I had never been there, and Stevo had only been there once for a blitz up Washington Column. Off we went.
Seeing the backbone of American agriculture was really truly amazing. Not really. It stank and there was smog everywhere. 8.5 hours from Hidden Valley to Camp 4 wasn't soon enough.
We awoke to the roar of Yosemite Falls. I realized that Ansel Adams wasn't making any of this stuff up: this place is beatiful!
We climbed for 3 days straight, getting a great intro to craggin and grade II mult-pitching in the Valley. Beautiful weather and small crowds made it a perfect time to be here. Some stuff was wet, but for the most part everything was cruiser. The granite here is slick, but is so fun to jam and slam in gear. We sussed out the place: where the climbs are, where the showers are, and where the bar is. But that happens when you're truly lost in fun and adventure. I made it home on a shoestring budget, my bank account only slightly overdrawn, but my adventure account full to the brim. This trip was epic and couldn't have gone any smoother. I made a pledge to allow myself this time to go get lost every year, and highly recommmend it to everyone else out there. It's worth devoting some money and time to the unknown, because amidst uncertainty and improvisation lies the type of fun that planning just can't possibly allow.
