hello again.

We took a day off today. For some reason, only four guests checked in to Seymour lodging today, and only two of those were back-to-backs, meaning they had to be cleaned this morning before they could be checked into. That translated into a very small day for me, small enough to be covered by the rest of the office staff. And Bobby, although unable to stop worrying about what was falling apart in his absence, also decided it was time. Even though it stops his running count of days since his last day off (his last one was in October), he was willing to accept that.

A bit to my chagrin, wasting a day snowboarding is not Bobby's idea of what needs to be done on a day off. He has finally become secure enough to just be able to admit that he does not enjoy snowboarding as much as everyone thinks he aught. He thinks he has hit a plateau that he cannot advance beyond, and furthermore, he does not wish to push himself hard enough to force himself off it. He doesn't want everyone to wait on him (everyone being me), so if I wish to snowboard, i shall be doing it by myself, or with someone who is not him. I know where he is coming from, even though I haven't hit that point myself. I am almost bored with the same old piste. The same crowds. I am never there for the corduroy first thing in the morning, and seldom have the time to hike the bowls for some powder. Down in eight minutes, wait in a lift line ten minutes, up in twelve minutes, down in another eight. I loiter in the trees, seek out the unknown lines, carve through the bumps just to procrastinate another twelve minutes on the chair, when my breathing slows, I cool off, and the breeze no longer feels refreshingly cool, but bitingly cold. I love snowboarding, but I want a change of scenery, and epic conditions every time, or I am easily convinced to go home early.

But B. was more than willing to spend a day off snowmobiling, and we both agreed that if we were to take a simultaneous day off, putting twice the stress on the remaining office staff, we had better spend it together. Otherwise, one of us should go back to work. So I whispered to my snowboard not to take it personally, and we hooked up the double snowmobile trailer to the pickup.

Now for a tangent. Ya see, there is a vast difference in the recreational interests of Bobby D and me. One of us loves speed, horsepower, two-stroke fumes. Rooster tails of snow, spit out from two inch treads. Tires on rock. Low gears. Precision steering. Trails with two tracks. Wildlife long gone, warned off by the screaming whine of an engine. A belief that the world has been here, damaged but not destroyed by it's human inhabitants, for this long, and it will probably still be here, much the same, long after we are gone, barring an apocalyptic destruction of it. ...And the other is passionate about human powered sports. Silence broken only by the crunch of pine needles under fat tires, and the click of a chain slipping from gear to gear. The swish of a snowboard cutting through weightless fluff. The slap of shoes on a loamy wilderness trail. Wildlife startled by the sudden sight of a human in their world. A belief that the world has been here, damaged but not destroyed by it's human inhabitants, for this long, only because it's human inhabitants have not had such resources to destroy it as we and our posterity will have, if an apocalyptic destruction of it does not do it for us.

I leave it to my blog-readers to discern which of us is right. Arguing a point is not the point of this blog. I have spent the day in a toxic cloud of burnt fossil fuel, throwing up rooster tails. It was fun. We spent some time in open meadows, exploding through snowdrifts, catching air over frozen stream beds, practicing turns by throwing our weight around (the only way to turn in deep powder), opening up the throttle and hanging on for dear life. Just playing around. My brain is overloaded with the beauty of winter in the mountains, such a clean, muted expanse of white. Silent stands of bare aspens, striped sunlight across the trail, pine boughs groaning under the impossible weight of snow on them. Softness everywhere one looks, any edge, any variation in the landscape hidden by piles of cold, deep softness. It would have been impossible to see so much beauty without the snowmobiles. We used up almost a tank of gas each, and put fifty-some miles on each sled.

The reason I was so enthusiastic about buying the sleds in the first place (other than that it was something that B really wanted) was that Bobby D described the endless powder riding possibilities available in the backcountry. Unfortunately, that is where I have successfully made a point with him. There will be no hill-climbing, high-marking, sidecutting, hiking, snowshoeing, snowboarding, skiing, or anything else taking place on an untreed 30 to 45 degree slope with a snow load large enough to allow any such activities, or on any surface directly below described terrain, until we each have a pack on our backs containing a shovel and probe, a working avalanche beacon strapped to our bodies, and enough practice to know how to use above mentioned items. I say unfortunately because i have shot myself in the foot (admittedly a better situation than buried myself in an avalanche) by forbidding such use of the backcountry before realizing just how expensive avalanche preparedness can be. So let's see... the cheapest beacon on the market, $289... a 300cm extendable probe, $59... a sturdy aluminum shovel with removable, collapsible handle, $70...and a backpack to hold these items, along with other emergency gear such as a space blanket, colorful ribbon to mark a trail, maps and compass, food and water, $97...that's give or take, not including shipping... times two, because ya cant just give the pack to the one who isn't going to get buried when you leave in the morning, with a cheerful, "here, use this to dig me out at 2:15 this afternoon when I get caught in a slide on the west side of a ridge- and oh, I'll be three feet under, about fifteen feet from the top, and twelve feet from the north edge of the slide." Nope, everyone going out has to have one, just in case. So we're talking a thousand dollars, just for a bit of insurance. Sketchy insurance, considering one-third of avalanche victims die from the trauma of being tossed about like a rag doll, in snow that can reach ninety degrees Fahrenheit from the friction created in the slide, and half of the ones that survive the slide itself die from asphyxiation in the cement-hard snow that refreezes when it comes to a stop, as their expelled breath forms an ice shield around their face, which fills with carbon dioxide as they breathe...and many who get dug out in time die from exposure or blood loss as their friends go for help and leave them with broken bones in hastily constructed shelters.

I know, this is a morbid topic, but a necessary one if one plans to spend time in the backcountry. We did take a crash course on avalanche awareness, which, surprisingly, puts us in a higher safety statistic than those who are avy-1 certified. We know we are still just dumb enough about avy's that it reduces our willingness to even try to take risks- we look at any slope with suspicion.

So today, we stayed on the trail. We only rode powder that was on the flats. We rode from Vail Pass to Camp Hale, and back again, with side trips to various vantage points and windswept hilltops. We were considering riding to Red Cliff, a small town accessible from back trails, but turned around after we were told that the road had been closed due to a slide. My eyes are red, my face is chapped from the wind, and my hair smells like it has been in close proximity to an idling two-stroke all day. I feel like i have taken a beating, even though i am not as exhausted as after a day of human-powered sports. Perhaps B is right. There is no harm in a day spent using natural resources, to renew a resource of your own- your sanity.

Check back in a day or two- just as soon as i locate the camera cord, i will post some pictures so you can enjoy a few of the vistas that we did this afternoon.



....next day. Ok, so now you have a few pictures.

I am thinking, (to head off any worried responses I may get to this post) I hope I have put everyone's mind at ease as to the risks we are not taking. I know that my dear ones worry a bit when we are out where it is deep and steep. We know the snowpack has deep unstable layers this year. The usual compression tests back country skiers and snowboarders are taught only test the instability of snow to about four feet deep, under the assumption that one person is not heavy enough to disturb snow deeper than four feet. But day before yesterday, in the backcountry over by Vail, two men were buried when a weak layer a centimeter thick, seven feet under the surface gave away. One survived, the other did not. In the first photo on this post, the massive, jagged cornice of Machine Gun Ridge that the lone skier is standing over gave away one year and dumped several snowmobilers over the edge, in weather nearly impossible to do a rescue mission in. The back country, winter or summer, is an unforgiving place. We know these facts, and we do not plan to take unnecessary risks, with or without the proper emergency gear. We go somewhat prepared for a night out in the cold. We take extra water and food. We stay away from slide paths, and do not go close to edges. So worry not, dear blog-readers. We may not be entirely prepared for every possibility, but we do understand cause and effect, and take precautions accordingly.