Steep Shots Ski column

The skiers & the boarders should be friends

Mon, 25 Apr 2011 19:33:33 -0600

By Emily Palm

While riding the chairlift earlier this season we witnessed a rather unbecoming display from a skier. After a rider biffed it and fell board over teakettle, a skier whizzed by yelling, “Dumbass.” Albeit funny, ‘twas not kind.

Seeing such poor snowboarder-skier relations led me to thinking. Sure, I dislike getting cut off on the way up to the mountain by Honda Civics with grenade stickers. True, when I smell cigarette smoke in the lift line it tends to be a troglodyte with super-baggy pants. And yes, having fresh powder scraped off the mountain by inexperienced boarders grinds my gears.

But maybe it’s not just the snowboarders keeping relations tense, a notion that should have been previously obvious.
My gripes certainly do not apply to all snowboarders, for it’s only the 90 percent that make the 10 percent look bad.

I jest; in fact, I’ve heard resort executives acknowledge that snowboarding saved the snowsports industry back in the 1990’s.
Actually, more and more rapscallions on the mountain are donning skis these days. I’ve seen many a mixed pack of youngsters wearing pants so baggy I wonder how they can maneuver down the slope.

With the next generation of riders and skiers on the mountain embracing the styles they like, it begs the question if jackets and pants companies will still differentiate between skier and snowboarder garb or if there will soon be just park style and backcountry style.

As the season wanes, so does the time to help build bridges between boarders and skiers. Yesterday I saw my first mountain bluebird of the year. Many Front Rangers are putting their planks — whether single or dual — away for the summer (though the season’s not dead yet! A-basin has concerts lined up for May, and backcountry spring skiing is a fine way to spend an April day).

So go ahead, reach out a pole the next time you see a boarder doing the penguin dance on a catwalk. You’ll give them a whole summer to think about how kind skiers are.

Telemark skier and freelance writer Emily A. Palm Mulica lives in Golden, Colo. Check out her Web site at www.emilypalm.com & follow on Twitter andFacebook.com/SteepShots. Share with her your favorite joke at emily@emilypalm.com.

Ski touring on the Hinsdale Haute Route

Fri, 1 Apr 2011 10:06:12 -0600

By Emily Palm
Worrying if I put enough sunscreen on that small patch of skin beneath the nose, I stop for a moment to reapply yet another layer of Dermatone and tighten my ski boots. The snow glare reflects brighter than the sun and the wind whips up from behind. I imagine it propels me as we skin up the ridge. My compadres and I are spending a long weekend exploring the Hinsdale Haute Route, sleeping three nights in the highest yurt system in Colorado.

Weekend warriors that we are, we hightailed it out of town last Thursday to spend the night at the Super Eight in Gunnison, helping maximize the daylight. Four people in a room coupled with an easy early start at the trail-head an hour away in Lake City, Colo., make this $20 per person very well spent.

For a paltry $9 each, our group opted for the system’s “Sherpa Service” to deliver a snowmobile’s load of food and beverages to the two yurts we stayed at. (A service, which, at mile 10 on day two, we would gladly have paid much more for — though my cheapo ways probably would have dictated my declination beforehand were it more.)

We met the snomobilers at the coffee shop in Lake City to drop off what we wanted at each yurt. It allowed for some townie time before our adventure.

“Where do you guys live?” the barista asked. When we replied the Front Range, she said, “You be careful up there, go slow. You’re only a mile up down there, and Lake City is already at 8,600 feet. And if weather moves in, you get off that mountain.”
While she certainly had some valid points, her patronizing concern couldn’t help but amuse us.

Dirt-bag beta alert (I call us such with the highest esteem, for I free-heel with Home Depot knee pads and yard-sale attire): We managed the entire weekend for $100. Cramming the yurt with eight people (they only rent out the entire yurt, not per person), resulted in a lodging price tag of $40 per person for three nights.
While not as nice as the backcountry mansions in the Tenth Mountain Division Hut system that tend to cost about $30 per person per night, you can’t beat the price. They were a bit rustic (i.e. bunk beds they bought used from a summer camp in 1977?), but very cozy, close to some sweet backcountry skiing spots, and privy to the best views in the San Juan Mountain Range.

All good things have to end, and on our final day we slogged over several ridges for our 9-mile skin out. With high winds, we took a lower route through a gully, and the wind-swept expanse looked like a desert.

As the author Tim Cahill says, “An adventure is never an adventure when it happens. An adventure is simply physical and emotional discomfort recollected in tranquility.” Sore hip flexors, blistered heels and general fatigue from the weekend meant we gave it our all.

More photos of the trip if you click here.

Telemark skier and freelance writer Emily A. Palm Mulica lives in Golden, Colo. Check out her Web site at www.EmilyPalm.com & follow Twitter.com/SteepShots andFacebook.com/SteepShots. Share with her your favorite joke at emily@emilypalm.com.

Skin away from the crowds

Wed, 16 Mar 2011 10:12:16 -0600

In-bounds adventures at Keystone

By Emily Palm

Ah, spring skiing: Muscles warmed up for the season, bluebird skies, pleasant weather, and tourists careening at you from all angles atop iced-up slopes.

Quick side note: I do not begrudge out-of-towners unacquainted with mountain culture and lacking ski skills (commonly called “gapers”), for they subsidize my inbound skiing.

At the end of the season, I’m not sure the resorts break even from my packed sandwiches, backpack beverages and me. Furthermore, isn’t it healthy for Americans to break out of their comfort zones? Isn’t compassion toward such folks on the slope good karma for when we’re out in other realms bumbling through as a newbie? I digress, but suffice it to say, “Love thy gaper.”

Now back to the topic at hand. To enjoy the aforementioned benefits and escape the latter, get thee to the backcountry or up to non-lift-served inbound areas.

Last weekend we set out to skin up to Keystone’s back bowls (if you don’t have skins and telemark or alpine touring bindings, hiking is fun too). We braced ourselves for spring-break mania at the base areas, but ended up delightfully surprised by crowds smaller than originally anticipated.

After putting the skins on our skis at the Outpost Lodge, we headed up the cat track toward Bergman and Erickson bowls. First and foremost, though, we had a brief safety meeting, an important component of many a ski excursion. Multiple layers in case the weather shifts? Water bottle full and lunch in hand? Meeting place, just in case? Check, check and check. That’s the bare minimum. It feels luxurious not to talk about route selection based off the avalanche report that morning, dig a pit, or worry about slope angles.

After a beautiful and heart-pumping trek up the ridge between Bergman and Erickson bowls, we took a quick break in the wind-whipping sunshine before making our earned turns. You know you’re happy being poor when you’d actually prefer to skin up than take a cat ride (and subsequently shell out $225 to ski the same bowls).

To further indulge our crowd-free quest, our group found a secluded lunch locale. The perfect picnic spot must be sunny and wind-protected by the trees. Make some instant Adirondack chairs by sticking skis in the snow and resting the poles in the binding, and you’re living the life.

To round out a perfect run, we found some untouched turns (even though Keystone hadn’t gotten any new snow for a bit).
After telling people I knew this would be my next column topic, many objected to outing our “secret” modus operandi. To which I reply, it’s on the trail map. I’d reckon the extra effort of skinning or hiking up deters enough folks, and if not, come join our happy throng. Just don’t be a gaper up there.

Telemark skier and freelance writer Emily A. Palm Mulica lives in Golden, Colo. Check out her Web site at www.EmilyPalm.com & follow Twitter.com/SteepShots andFacebook.com/SteepShots. Share with her your favorite joke at emily@emilypalm.com.

Families that ski together ...

Tue, 1 Mar 2011 08:06:18 -0700

By Emily Palm

When fresh tracks beckon, I usually encourage interpersonal allegiances to fall by the wayside.

Wait for others when there are freshies to be found? No way José. “No family on a powder day,” however, sounds a bit harsh, even when said in Spanglish.

So it went last weekend with my brother, Garrett, visiting from Brooklyn. He caught the schussing bug last year when he came out to experience a slice of the skiing life. The rest of my family knows what a major role skiing holds for my husband and I, but Garrett is the only one who has actually seen it.

While my siblings and I excelled in the newspaper, choir and theater rooms, no one ever marveled at the grace and athleticism of the Palm kids. Hailing from Oregon and California, we went on a handful of trips to Mt. Hood and Mt. Bachelor over the years. None of us ever graduated beyond the green slopes, except for me when I went to college and skiing changed my life.

Skiing does marvelous things for dexterity. The sport transformed me from awkward girl to athletic woman. As I graduated from blue slopes to double black and beyond, I tended to trip less and generally became less clumsy. I can even tell my coordination improves during ski season.

It turns out poise on snow runs in the family. The first day on the slopes last year, Garrett amazed us with his natural skiing prowess (as an improvisational comedian, he attributes his ability to fall well to the physical nature of his craft). By the end of his trip last year Garrett even skied on a black diamond groomed run at Beaver Creek (we’ll eventually work up to an A-Basin black run).

This year I skied with him his entire trip out, and not just out of familial obligation. We had a blast catching up on the chairlift, reveling in the new snow Saturday and bluebird conditions Monday. Hitting the slopes might just be the best sibling bonding out there.

Selfishly speaking, skiing slowly with a newbie can do great thing for form. Last weekend I worked on fine-tuning my tele turns. Without the pressure of someone waiting for me, taking the time to sweat the small stuff in form translates into big leaps in expertise later.

Leaving the boots unbuckled served as another skill-building way to enjoy a mellower day on the slopes while still feeling productive. Back in the day before stiff plastic boots and sturdy bindings, skiers actually had to have form to ski well. Loosening up the corrective gear serves as a reminder to use those edges and stay balanced.

Garrett headed back to New York this week, already homesick for the Rockies when we reached the airport. The fact he’s talking about getting a season pass for next year is the final beautiful part of skiing with siblings: the master plan of wheedling my far-flung family to move out here.

Telemark skier and freelance writer Emily A. Palm Mulica lives in Golden, Colo. Check out her Web site at www.EmilyPalm.com & follow Twitter.com/SteepShots and Facebook.com/SteepShots. Share with her your favorite joke at emily@emilypalm.com.

Understanding the avalanche dragon

Tue, 15 Feb 2011 12:50:38 -0700

Last month two snowboarders set out to ride the backcountry at Berthoud Pass, one came home.

With his partner lacking a probe, beacon, and shovel, the man who died in a January 17 slide along the “High Trail Cliffs” northeast of Berthoud Pass left his avalanche protection gear in the car.

Detailed in an incident report put out by the Colorado Avalanche Information Center, the riders made several decisions, intentional or otherwise, that led up to the tragic outcome.

One never knows, but I can’t help but wonder if the pair had attended one of the annual free avalanche-awareness clinics put on by the Friends of Berthoud Pass, if noticing some red flags could have prevented this death.

Last weekend FOBP held their seventh annual on-snow portion of their grassroots avalanche awareness outreach program. Ideally, someone who recreates in the backcountry during the winter takes an avalanche I course, and attends this yearly to refresh. Such full-blown courses can cost upwards of $300 (worth every penny, but pricy), so the FOBP class is a great start to garnering life-saving avalanche savvy. They do an excellent job.

Though I took an avy I class five years ago, I can definitely say I’ve learned more in the field digging avalanche pits with my backcountry buddies and attending the FOBP classes. Over the years my knowledge base has taken me from passive student simply absorbing information, to being the one talking our instructors’ ears off with questions, theories and “what would you do” scenarios.

Our instructors, Gary Apostolou and Mike Bean, shared invaluable tips and down-and-dirty snow tests while skinning up the west side of Berthoud Pass.

As we headed up, we used our ski poles to punch through layers in the snow. Such quick tests can show the layers, and the energy in the snowpack. Apostolou compares the stored energy to a rubber band wound tights waiting for a knife to hit it. “And your skis are the knife.”

Another good test when skinning up is to do a kick-turn and take a look at the stability of the snow isolated by your tracks. A mini-Rutschblock test, if you will.

We hiked up to a spot to dig a pit and check out the layers in the snow. While spatial variability can yield inconsistent snow pit results, it’s still good practice to add the information gleaned from pits to the quiver.

All of the clues in the snowpack-stability puzzle help inform the backcountry skier. It begins that day when you check out the avalanche forecast in the morning. It continues with the down-and-dirty tests and observations on the skin up. (Shooting cracks out from under you, a whoomphing sound, rapid temperature change, and snowfall accumulation of more than an inch an hour are all red flags in my book.) Observed weak layers found in a pit, and other stability test results, can then guide whether your group skis the steeps you’d hoped to, or head down the lower angle route that’s less avalanche prone.

An important thing to remember is that you are looking for reasons not to ski, not the opposite. In other words, the work of understanding the avalanche dragon never stops.