Jason and I skied the Grunge a couple weeks ago. He made a video, which was nice because I'm low on cameras right now (Canon S90 (fell in lake), Canon video camera (run over after I left it on wife's bumper), Sony Nex 7 (accidentally left camera bag open and flung it across garage; did not survive), GoPro Black Edition (junk, took it back).
The Grunge from Jason Dorais on Vimeo.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Sunday, April 7, 2013
The Avalanche's Gift
One year ago, I nearly died in an avalanche. Shortly after the incident, I wrote down some of my thoughts here. In the last year, I don't think that a day has gone by that I haven't thought about that incident.
I distinctly remember my attitude the day I got swatted off the mountain. I was over confident. I was cocky. I was not afraid. Jason and I had just skied the north face of Mt. Superior. I had triggered and skied out of an avalanche, and I had laughed. No biggie. Just as I thought, just as I would have guessed, and not surprisingly, I triggered it, managed it, and skied out. I was, after all, a pro skier. There wasn't much that could stand in between me and what I wanted out of the mountain. . . . or so I thought.
The day I stood on Superior and confidently arced turns on its south face might have been the highest point in my ski "career." That day, I was standing on what I considered to be a pile of accomplishments: a variety of ski traverses, ski linkups, decent results at some rando races, and a speed ascent (and record) on the Grand Teton. But as the avalanche swept me off the mountain and into a funnel lined with sharp and merciless rocks, I instantly realized that of the things that matter most in life, my skiing stunts were not among them.
It's odd how time nearly stood still as I churned and pin-balled off the mountain. Although my fall likely was less than one minute, I had ample time to reflect on what was happening to me. I felt overwhelming anger and guilt, understanding that the next bashing might be my last. I was fully aware that if my life were to end in the next cartwheel, I would leave a family behind. My family. That's what made me angry and guilty.
If I had to pinpoint one thing the avalanche taught me, it would be that I was a lucky guy. I realized that in the years I had been moving in the mountains, I hadn't conquered anything. I hadn't mastered much at all. Rather, I had gotten away with things. The mountains had given me gifts. I had just gotten lucky. Timp solo on an unstable day? Luck. Scaling the north face of Buck Mountain with one tool and no rope? Luck. Triggering avalanches and skiing out of them while skiing off Twin Peaks and Dromedary (in the same day)? Duh, dumb luck.
This ski season has been a bit weird. For the first time in years, I haven't had a burning desire to stand on or ski something scary. I haven't had much of a desire to do much except for safe skinning and skiing. Standing at the top of a powdery, class-A couloir kind of scares me. I haven't summitted Mt. Superior since the avalanche. I now think that the ideal ski day is when the snow is frozen solid. Seriously, what is wrong with me?
The fact that I have seemed to have lost whatever moxy I used to have has troubled me, slightly. But I've gotten over it. I suppose that my old self would say that the avalanche took something away from me. That it stole my fire. But now, I don't think of it that way. The avalanche gave me a gift. It supplanted overconfidence with fear. It didn't take away my desire to be in the mountains, but it gave me a healthy dose of respect. It showed me what might have been without completely divesting me of what I had. And that too was a gift.
I distinctly remember my attitude the day I got swatted off the mountain. I was over confident. I was cocky. I was not afraid. Jason and I had just skied the north face of Mt. Superior. I had triggered and skied out of an avalanche, and I had laughed. No biggie. Just as I thought, just as I would have guessed, and not surprisingly, I triggered it, managed it, and skied out. I was, after all, a pro skier. There wasn't much that could stand in between me and what I wanted out of the mountain. . . . or so I thought.
The day I stood on Superior and confidently arced turns on its south face might have been the highest point in my ski "career." That day, I was standing on what I considered to be a pile of accomplishments: a variety of ski traverses, ski linkups, decent results at some rando races, and a speed ascent (and record) on the Grand Teton. But as the avalanche swept me off the mountain and into a funnel lined with sharp and merciless rocks, I instantly realized that of the things that matter most in life, my skiing stunts were not among them.
It's odd how time nearly stood still as I churned and pin-balled off the mountain. Although my fall likely was less than one minute, I had ample time to reflect on what was happening to me. I felt overwhelming anger and guilt, understanding that the next bashing might be my last. I was fully aware that if my life were to end in the next cartwheel, I would leave a family behind. My family. That's what made me angry and guilty.
If I had to pinpoint one thing the avalanche taught me, it would be that I was a lucky guy. I realized that in the years I had been moving in the mountains, I hadn't conquered anything. I hadn't mastered much at all. Rather, I had gotten away with things. The mountains had given me gifts. I had just gotten lucky. Timp solo on an unstable day? Luck. Scaling the north face of Buck Mountain with one tool and no rope? Luck. Triggering avalanches and skiing out of them while skiing off Twin Peaks and Dromedary (in the same day)? Duh, dumb luck.
This ski season has been a bit weird. For the first time in years, I haven't had a burning desire to stand on or ski something scary. I haven't had much of a desire to do much except for safe skinning and skiing. Standing at the top of a powdery, class-A couloir kind of scares me. I haven't summitted Mt. Superior since the avalanche. I now think that the ideal ski day is when the snow is frozen solid. Seriously, what is wrong with me?
The fact that I have seemed to have lost whatever moxy I used to have has troubled me, slightly. But I've gotten over it. I suppose that my old self would say that the avalanche took something away from me. That it stole my fire. But now, I don't think of it that way. The avalanche gave me a gift. It supplanted overconfidence with fear. It didn't take away my desire to be in the mountains, but it gave me a healthy dose of respect. It showed me what might have been without completely divesting me of what I had. And that too was a gift.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Monday, March 11, 2013
2013 Powderkeg Individual Race
I was forced to be a spectator this year. And spectating is almost as fun as racing. I put a "fun" video together that includes lots of people, lots of layers, some skiing, some jeering, some cheering, and it will probably make you cross-eyed -- just like the Powderkeg.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Wasatch Citizen Skimo Series La Sportiva Ski Raffle -- WIN SOME SKIS!!
On February 26, the Wasatch Skimo Citizen Series will have its 9th and final (official) race. Join us at 7:00 at Brighton Ski Resort. Afterwards, we will convene at Molly Greens to give out awards an to RAFFLE OFF A PAIR OF LA SPORTIVA SKIS.
If you would like to participate in the raffle, you must be present. You also must fill out this form:
If you would like to participate in the raffle, you must be present. You also must fill out this form:
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
For Sale: Really Light Rando Boots and Skis
My friend Joey Dempster is selling his Pierre Gignoux XP444s, size 275.
He says: "I bought them for the 09/10 season direct from Pierre. I only raced in them, and trained in a pair of dna's. I have used them probably 10 or 15 times total and not at all for 2 seasons now. I'm not an aggressive downhill skier, so I never broke them, but I did manage to put a small tear in carbon on the outside of the right lower, near the sole. It has been repaired."
He is also selling:
1st gen DNA carbon boots
DNA carbon skis with Montura auto lock race bindings
He didn't give me a price, but he's an eminently reasonable guy, except for the fact that he appears to be getting out of rando racing.
Contact him at: joeydempster@gmail.com
Maybe he's just going to upgrade to this:
Contact him at: joeydempster@gmail.com
Maybe he's just going to upgrade to this:
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