Wolf Creek Pass slide

Some backcountry skiers set off a big slide on Wolf Creek Pass a couple of weeks ago, after the big snow.

The area had gotten 65 inches of snow in four days. The slope, says Aaron Cloud, who shot the footage, "was south-east facing and is about 11,000' in elevation. The slide was triggered by the second skier, our third lap on this terrain."

You can read the details of their adventure on the "Team Hayduke" blog. 

Check out some video below: 

A day in the high country

Followed some maniacs on a three-hour climb up then ski down in the La Platas this weekend. Good to know I can still do it at my age.

Check out some shots here:

I'm thankful for ...

... a daughter who also could wait no longer for snow.

So Anna and I headed up onto Red Mountain for some early-season turns. And Anna's first backcountry ski.

Hope everyone's Thanksgiving was grand!

Backcountry ski season is here! And with it comes ...

This is scarier than anything Halloween has to offer.

Lest we forget ... Can't have too many reminders: a sobering avalanche video caught with a helmet-cam last April. The guy's Avalung and cool-headedness (pun sort of intended) saved his life.

Read the story here, on Freeskier.com.

Skiing that San Juan dirt-snow

Well all know about it: those crazy, hazy dust storms that swept across the Four Corners this spring. Seems that southern Utah and northern Arizona was scoured down with this Spring's winds, carried across the Colorado Plateau, and deposited on the spring snowpack sitting on the flanks of the Rockies -- and particularly the San Juan Mountains.

It also seems that these dark layers dusted over the snowpack -- we Westerners' alpine-stored water supply for the dry Summer months ahead -- also speeded up the snowmelt. By darkening the snowpack and lowering its albedo, the snowpack absorbed more solar radiation and so delivered its peak runoff weeks early.

And it seems the people who prognosticate on such things are predicting more of the same dirt-to-dust-to-snowmelt in the years ahead.

The New York Times ran a good article on the phenomenon a few weeks ago. The article, published May 14, says:

Snowpacks from the San Juan Mountains to the Front Range have either completely melted or will be gone within the next two weeks, said Tom Painter, director of the Snow Optics Laboratory at the University of Utah and a leading expert on snowmelt.

The rapid melting is linked to a spate of intense dust storms that kick up dirt and sand that in turn are deposited on snow-topped mountains. The dust darkens the snow, allowing the surface to absorb more heat from the sun. This warms the snow -- and the air above it -- significantly, studies show.

The problem has been particularly acute in the semiarid Colorado Plateau region encompassing parts of Utah, Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona. An unprecedented 12 large dust storms have occurred so far this year in the region, and at least two more are projected in the coming months, officials say.

The article also says there has already been twice as much dust generated this year than in the past six years.

That, to me -- even though I, too, recognized something weird going -- seems like a hard thing to quantify.

But, I must say, after a late-spring ski venture up into the San Juan high country recently, I am a convert to the idea that, this year at least, something truly peculiar hath descended upon our mountain domain.

As a side note, this trip was also my teen kids', and one of their friend's, first backcountry ski venture. (We're already getting them fired up for next year.) We headed up early one morning to Cinnamon Pass, east of Silverton. It was a great spot for their inaugural snowfield-skiing experience -- a quick 15-minute climb rewarded by a fast, fun, steep descent down. We got in two runs before the weird-as-the-dust-storms stormy weather moved in, packing its winds, cold, sleet, and lightning.

But two runs was enough to full hook these ski-bum kids.

And it was also enough to see first-hand the effects the Spring's dust storms had wreaked on the high-country snow. Looking out over the ragged ranges of peaks, both nearby and far away, you could clearly see -- startlingly see -- the line of red dust painting the snow-covered slopes, fading to a thinner pink as you got higher. It's a truly bizarre and dumbfounding sight.

And the effect was also clear close-at-hand: although our skiing was fast and fun, it was also across gritty, rust-colored corn snow.

If this is what's to come, then maybe it's time to turn those rock skis into dirt skis.

See more pics of both the ski and the dirty San Juans below.

Home = land, Peacocks, ol' Ed, and bear country!

Democracy Now!, locally available on Durango's own community radio KDUR, has been traveling the western reaches, giving voice to seldom-aired commentaries on the madding empire. In the above interview, Doug Peacock echoes a phrase voiced just yesterday by our own, ever-lovin' sabot-packer, Ken Wright.

Amy Goodman has been soliciting story ideas from the areas they are visiting on this tour, and she will be speaking at the Green Festival in Denver on May 2. Got one?

Going Full Skier

In the fresh wake of my fortieth birthday, I have relished my last days of the season in April powder, triggering a significant reference—the time when I left “the circle.” It was ten years ago, almost to the date, with lots of late-season April snow, when I left Steamboat Springs.
I can always come back was the motto I embraced and the only way I convinced myself to pack.

A few weeks later, I feigned a confident adieu to my roommates, and pointed my Pathfinder towards the coast. The next day, when I got to Reno, I couldn’t resist exiting the highway in Truckee to check out Squaw Valley. It had been a lonely drive, and I suddenly felt less detached, and even wondered briefly how much housing cost around there. No. I had to remind myself, you're going to the city, not back to what you just left.

Graduate school in San Francisco, for two years, was trying, feeling the magnet of the circle stab me from afar, with my denial that I had left manifesting in nothing very good. I had no idea what I was doing.

Small steps were taken when I returned to Colorado, two years later. And this time, I had a job. There was a ski area, and by-gosh-darnit, I was going to be a skier again. I returned to season passes, albeit weekday Purg passes some years, and I skied.

But, for a while, I wasn’t really a skier. I was skating around the circumference. Living in Bondad didn’t help, surrounded by all that sagebrush. It wasn’t that full-skier lifestyle. My new friends had never seen Aspen Extreme and had no true bond with Scrapple. I paid strangers to tune my skis, full price, so far from the circle that six packs would have been inappropriate.

Finally, this year, I found my way back. Moving to Mancos helped, along with my emergent new ski buddy—a true skier, and also my college pass at Telluride (and utmost kudos to the T Ski Corp for extending the deal to faculty). At home, the La Platas talk to me everyday, and when I’m not on big mountains, I’m still in the spirit, cross countrying on ridgelines above my neighborhood with my dogs. I am on skis most days of the week.

Even better, my new ski buddy is educating me on the whole new world of the backcountry, which is, indeed, quite possibly, the vortex. Early season, he waxed my boards—all three sets—and I feel like a chick in a ski town again, where a little bit of chauvinism is okay. In the backcountry, I marvel at how tired I get skinning up, wondering why running and XC hasn’t put me in better shape. Pointing my skis takes mindset again on these new pitches, allowing alpine turns as I adjust to this more untamed terrain.

I had so many great days in Telluride, too. I love, and have always loved, skiing alone. I returned to this part of my roots, a real mountain and a resort. The ski area isn’t evil to me; it is real. I park at Coonskin, feeling old school, proud with images of hiking Gold Hill before it was a lift, when I made excursions to this magical place during my early liftie days in Summit County. After skiing, before heading back over Lizard Head, I get big bagel sandwiches at Baked in Telluride, liking my strolls through town just as much as the eats. In Mountain Village, I don’t mind the glitz; I liked it, actually, and in the evenings post ski, razzed my ski buddy about my lunch dates with Tom Cruise.

On closing day last weekend, much of Prospect Bowl was still untracked. Hiking up, we take our time, viewing it up. The end-of-year party is starting to gather in the pine trees at the bottom of the first pitch. We won’t go, but we laugh, and I share one of my own last-day memories from Steamboat with him.

He’s always appreciative of my more irresponsible decade. While some of mine are admittedly pretty good, he trumps me altogether with footage he filmed himself at A-Basin in the 70s. (How cool is that?)

We moved down the run confidently and fast, snapping smoothly and consistently into each pivot, our muscles and minds in good shape after a full season. At the bottom, I feel like it is the best day of the year, or maybe even my best day ever, but how many time do we say that? I am back in my slow motion dream and in my own little zone; I am in the circle. I am back.

On crying Wolf too soon... so long to "Macho B"

[map courtesy: Northern Jaguar Project]

For over a decade, a jaguar graced a mountain range I know well. Though ancestral jaguar habitat stretches all the way to the Colorado Plateau, researchers dubbed this cat "Macho B," perhaps as a nod to the concept of a Mexican origin. Every now and then a motion-detecting camera snapped his picture, so though I never saw him or his track, I knew he was there. Though the mountain range became a sacrifice zone in a border war seemingly without end, crisscrossed by night-trails, haunted by overflights, and subject to a migration-fighting wall, the jaguar survived. Other than occasional pictures, very little information was gathered on his day-to-day movements. In late February, he finally stepped in a snare, was radio-collared and released. When I heard the news, I posted a picture here with a celebratory comment that likely offended chihuahua lovers far and wide. On March 2, Arizona Game & Fish announced that the jaguar had been recaptured, transported to the Phoenix Zoo, and 'euthanized.' The post-mortem diagnosis was kidney failure. Here is an obituary, posted by Defenders of Wildlife, along with an overview of the group's Northern Jaguar recovery efforts. Also, the Center for Biological Diversity is soliciting donations to its Jaguar Recovery Fund, to pursue a lawsuit over habitat management.

I learned of of the jaguar's death as I was preparing a celebratory welcome for another species. On February 25th, a lone female wolf was recorded in Colorado, not far from Interstate 70 in Eagle County. This wolf was wearing a collar not much different from the one placed on the jaguar known as Macho B, and researchers had been able to trace her on a circuitous 1,000 mile route from a pack based north of Yellowstone National Park. According to the press release, she has roamed parts of Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Utah, and into Colorado, crossing from the Northern to Southern Rockies Ecosystem in the process. At least one other wolf made it this far in 2004, only to be killed as he tried to navigate the always dangerous I-70. At least for now, all wolves wandering into Colorado are to be treated as an endangered species, though with last week's decision by the Interior Department to de-list the Northern Rockies population, all bets are off.

In 2007, the Colorado Division of Wildlife posted video of another possible wolf north of Steamboat Springs:

I found no other reported sightings for this one, and there is no more public data on last month's sighting.

As usual, all these incidents received temporary media coverage in their respective areas, with just enough details to feed emotional responses ranging from fear through pity, with side trips into nostalgia and mourning. Realizing that one consideration missing from all accounts was a consideration of the fragmented landscape these animals had passed through, for the past few days I've been seeking habitat and wildlife corridor maps to add to the discussion. The news is not good, but this is what I've found...

Though efforts to define and establish wildlife corridors have been underway throughout the West for over twenty years, current knowledge is as fragmented as the habitat various groups are trying to 'save.' Arbitrary boundaries, ranging from the U. S. / Mexico border to a definition of 'Northern' vs. 'Southern' Rockies, limit maps and management plans to narrow areas of intense focus, surrounded by vast stretches of habitat incognita that wandering wildlife must navigate. A good source for an overview is the Western Governors' Association Wildlife Corridors Initiative Report, published in June, 2008. At 120 pages of politic prose, it could get you through a sleepless night, and may leave you howling in sympathy with the wandering wolf; but a set of maps on pages 12 to 26 should get you started thinking about just where we have to go from here, to move beyond overly studied and overtly controlled populations of feared and pitied trophy species, eventually hunted or "euthanized" from habitat once wild enough to call home.

[Wildlands Network Design map of Colorado (Southern Rockies Ecosystem Project)]

For more on wildlife corridor works-in-progress:

• Wildlands Network

• The Rewilding Institute

More from the science of appearances file...

[photo: Arizona Game and Fish Dept.]

Sometimes you're looking for lions, and catch a jaguar instead. Having considered this possibility, the research team attached a collar, and released the 118 pound male to continue roaming a landscape that trumps the concept of national borders. This may be the jaguar known as Macho B, appearing only as an image on motion-triggered cameras for the last thirteen years, or it may be another male migrating toward the northern portions of ancestral jaguar range; but the knowledge gleaned from this accidental trapping will further complicate the politics of fencing the empire.

So far the satellite-uplinked jaguar has stayed south of Tucson, but his ancestors once hunted the rims of the Grand Canyon. A quick glance at the habitat map I posted here last week should encourage you to consider adding jaguars to your phenological "watch for" list, and might give further incentive to teach your poodles and chihuahuas to heel.

Change - "...we are the ones we have been waiting for."

Last Friday, as George W. Bush sought desperately to defer reckonings for eight years of foreign policy, economic, and environmental blundering onto the next administration, - Tim DeChristopher took a final exam on economics, walked into a BLM auction in downtown Salt Lake City, took a bidding number, and threw a wrench into one of the outgoing administration's machinations to deliver lasting gifts to extraction industries all over our map.




Patrick Shea, a Clinton-era head of the Bureau of Land Management, has offered to represent DeChristopher in any legal actions, and though at this point he lacks the $1,700,000 it would take to claim his winning bids on 22,000 acres, this act of very civil disobedience will delay any re-auctioning of a few pieces of Utah's canyon country until after January 20th. DeChristopher further explains his action on the One Utah blog, where you can thank him, and donate to a legal fund.

On getting back from beyond

This is a view I hope to experience only this way, through my laptop window to a big scary world of hoping your trusty avalanche beacon will help your friends dig out your remains, with their trusty avalanche shovels and probes.

[Avalanche in Pau, by an organization listed only as the "Snow Safety Center"]


Think you know how to avoid the rush, and crush of an avalanche? Here's a terrain quiz, from csac.org.

Want to know more? The Silverton Avalanche School started enrollment for their 2009 classes today. According to the website, there are still open slots.

Can't wait to start learning more? Here is a reading list, suggested by the folks at the Avalanche School. Shop indie, and find your bookstore here.

Can't wait to get started? Check the Colorado Avalanche Information Center for snow conditions, before you pack that gear and hit the backcountry, beyond the beacons and safety nets.

Welcome back to winter, gang.

Silverton Mountain owner clarifies backcountry access issue

Aaron Brill, owner of Silverton Mountain ski area, sent the Almanac this clarification of yesterday's posting about public access to backcountry in the upper end of Cement Creek, above Silverton:

There was no request to discontinue plowing by me. San Juan County informed me they had decided to stop plowing the last .3 miles of the road to save money this year. They actually posted signs as such this October near Gladstone. I simply pointed out that since they had already decided not to plow to the end of the road and we would have to ski further to the shuttle, they could likely add another .5 to it without changing how badly it affected us as we may be able to ski down part of the way until it flattened out about .4 miles north of the ski area.

The lack of plowing would have a negative impact on us as we prefer to drive to the end of the road for emergency reasons and our skiers prefer the shuttle from the end of the road, but I suggested we could groom it to make it more tenable. We would still have to run our shuttle up the road, as there is another .4 miles from the end of the plowing to the base area.

There was no request to stop running our shuttles. This decision to terminate plowing early is all San Juan County’s deal and really has nothing to do with me other than I was trying to help them with their budget woes by being unselfish and cooperative when they told me about it. The lack of plowing will create some hardship for the ski area as we also prefer that they plow the road all the way, but we understand that they have serious budget woes and may need to make some sacrifices.

We all need to make sure San Juan County has enough money for county road avalanche control or the entire road won’t be open much at all, which is not a good alternative either. We pay thousands of dollars in direct payments each year to San Juan County for winter road maintenance to help keep the road open and know how bad their budget for CR 110 is this year.

Backcoutry skiing access above Silverton threatened

An alert from the 4cornersbackcountryskiers listserv reports that Aaron Brill, the owner of Silverton Mountain Ski Area is requesting the county cut winter access to the popular backcountry skiing terrain in and around upper Cement Creek, in the San Juans above Silverton. The alert says:

Aaron Brill has asked the San Juan County Commissioners to not plow Cement Creek road past his lift. He doesn’t want to run the shuttles anymore [don't know any more motivation beyond that]. This would make the approaches to Bonita Peak/Gold King (Minnehaha), Corkscrew/Hurricane, Gwendaland, etc excessively long. The San Juan County Commissioners are meeting at 8am on the 15th and this topic is on the agenda. If you have an opinion on this, please contact the commissioners at the following by tomorrow, Friday at noon!

View Larger Map

Those concerned are urged to contact the San Juan County to ask the county to continue to plowing the and maintaining access public trailhead and ski access at the top of the Cement Creek road.

Email sanjuancounty@frontier.net or call the San Juan County Administrator, William Tookey, at 970.387.5766

The alert suggests points to make:

1) The parking area/trailhead at the end of Cement Creek Road has been kept open by the state or county plows for many decades. It leads to many backcountry areas used from October to May. Backcountry access is important for the county to maintain as it is what makes the Silverton area so popular with backcountry enthusiasts.

2) Those who use this particular trailhead do not wish to ski at Silverton nor do they do want to park along the already crowded road near the ski area, which is a half-mile from the current Cement Creek trailhead.

3) Backcountry skiers from Ouray and Durango help support and "grow" the local San Juan economy, by buying gas, supplies, and other sundries in town.

4) The decisions to purchase many homes and properties in San Juan County have been spurred by the county-supported plowed access to higher elevation trailheads.

You can also contact Silverton Mountain at info@silvertonmountain.com.

Turning down the noise

A financial advisor once told me that his job – if I hired him – would be to “turn down the noise” that’s so much as part of the investment world.

I said, “What?”

I live on three acres just off Highway 666. It was probably the Highway Department’s financial advisor that devalued the same highway by changing its designation to 491, but the noise is still the same.

Semi trucks, pickups, SUVs, automobiles, big motorcycles, the noise of living beside a highway – any highway, really. The noise is so much a part of the background that I usually don’t notice it.
I still think I live on three acres of rural America where the birds and the bees create most of the music.

And then I get away from the acreage, like this week. Two days along the Crystal River, the noise of ice cold water gushing over rocks. Rush hour water. Starlight crashing down from the sky’s black tarmac. That kind of traffic. Every truck going by on the pavement that pretends it’s an asphalt river, snaking all the way over McClure Pass and down to Glenwood Springs, I finally hear it.

The silence, that is.

The rare moment in my life when there’s nothing to ignore.

Self-made man

At the edge of the Log Kit Forest®

stood a Log Kit Cabin® where a rugged

individual looked through his double-glazed,

gas filled, Thermo-horizon® window,

surveying his labor with a contented sigh.

Tough as it had been to assemble a forest

the way it arrived from the manufacturer –

mislabeled and coded with the wrong colors –

this outdoor survivalist knew how much a

forest was a necessary part of his personal

habitat, so that his children and their

children and their children’s children

would have something of the earth to

pass along. Of course, first he would have

to learn how to assemble the children

but that would come, one piece at a time,

he liked to say, one piece at a time.

Winter is out there, if you look

Are you already mourning the lack of cold and snow. Have you been hanging around your house, gazing longingly up from the TV every now and then, as often as you can bear, toward your skis, standing dust-covered and abandoned in the corner?

Well, this trio of San Juan backcountry skiers didn't spend their weekend whining. They found where winter was hiding. (Somewhere above Silverton ...)


Check out more pics here.