Grassroots Powdersurfing brings you two days of tree riding, pillow pouncing and pow slashing through burnt forests in the Sawtooth Mountain Range, riding the best binding-free powsurfers in the world.

Powsurf Riders: Jeremy Jensen, Dave Smellie, Craig Stevenson, Jeff Tulloch, Erik Nelson, Cole Thompson.

Music: Sidestreet Reny “Roots Reality”  http://www.sidestreetreny.com
Good Blood “I’ll Be”  http://www.goodblood.bandcamp.com

A chronological journey taking us 8 years into the past starting with the development of the first ever split-powsurfer prototypes on earth and moving forward through years of development that led us to where we are today with the latest Grassroots Splitsurfers.

At Grassroots we have been splitsurfing almost as long as we have been powdersurfing. The “Transformer” is our latest invention that brings amazing access to riders all over the world. The “Transformer” splitsurfer is designed to excel as a powsurfer but also allows the rider the option of riding with bindings to help get out of packed out trails, poor snow conditions at lower elevation, and to open up tons of side country access outside resorts.

Visit http://powsurf.com for more information about how to powsurf & to purchase a powsurfer for yourself.

Shot, Written, Edited, & Narrated by Jeremy Jensen
Music: Little Barefoot “Instrumental” Littlebarefoot.bandcamp.com
Riders: Jeremy Jensen

SUPPORTED BY:
Celtek  http://celtek.com
Yea. Nice http:// yeanice.com
Sandbox  http://sandboxland.com
Mtn Approach  http://mtnapproach.com
Bluebird Wax  http://bluebirdwax.com
Remind Insoles  http://remindinsoles.com
Cheetah Factory Racing  http://cheetahfactoryracing.com
Owner Operator  http://owneroperator.us
Verts  http://verts.com

Winter IS here!!!! As the snow is starting to drop in Colorado, excitement is growing as fast as the flakes are falling. We can hardly contain ourselves here at Snow Minions!! It is a great time to dream about fluffy stuff and get a little review going on that oh so close you can taste it backcountry play that is quickly approaching.

Taking time to review some avy basics should get you started on your path of being a life-long learner at the start of every season.

• Education should be 1st on your list if you are serious about backcountry. Snow Minions is here to help you find your way along this path, do not hesitate to reach out!
• 90% of all avalanches are triggered by the victim or someone in their group.
• Being educated and careful does not remove 100% of the danger of backcountry snow play.

There are 6 types of avalanches:

• Slab
• Point-Release
• Wet Snow
• Cornice Collapse
• Ice Fall
• Roof

There are 4 components of every avalanche:

• Cohesive slab of snow: this is the chunk that breaks off when the slide is triggered.
• Slope: the magic number here is 38 degrees. Most slides need 30-45 degrees. **This angle varies depending on WHERE in the world you are riding**
• Trigger: 90% of the time this is HUMAN.
• Weak inner layer: due to weather patterns and snow type, a weak inner layer that causes the cohesive slab to break.

Did you know: Colorado has the highest number of avalanche deaths EVERY year.

We have something called “continental snowpack” in Colorado. This means we have many different layers within the snow pack. If you have ever been here you know that the weather can change on a dime and we have over 300 days of sunshine.

4 Myths Debunked:

• Myth: Avy’s are unpredictable and happen without warning. Reality: They really are not all that unpredictable with the proper education. An avalanche certification (AIARE or equivalent) is a must!
• Myth: It was just “the wrong place at the wrong time.” Reality: If you are educated you know where the wrong places are.
• Myth: You will be safe in the trees. Reality: Look at it like this: If they are wide enough to ride it’s wide enough to slide. An avy will take out trees. You are smaller than a tree.
• Myth: Loud noises trigger an avalanche. Reality: 90% of all avalanches are triggered by the victim or someone in their group.

Don’t forget: CPR and 1st aid certifications are highly recommended!

There is so much more to learn, but these will get you started. Winter play is all about fun, and with that fun comes this lesson: Do what you love while being responsible for the consequences. You need to understand what you are getting into and what you could be leaving behind. Gut instinct is not to be ignored.

Snow is simply frozen water. Water in whatever form creates a wave that can destroy anything in its path.

Check out a free snow education class in your area to begin the critical educational steps to becoming a backcountry explorer. Come say hi at Snow Minions and we’ll help you find it, or Google “avalanche education” near you. Happy turning friends, cheers to winter!!

Despite low snow conditions around the Western US, I had a great season traveling to 2- and 4-star Freeride World Qualifier events, freeskiing at my home resorts of Alta and Crested Butte and touring in the Wasatch, Uintas and Crested Butte backcountry!

Flylow Gear, Ramp, Flyin Ryan, Soul Poles, Pit Viper

Last fall, Caroline Gleich and I met and bounced around ideas of video projects for the coming winter.  Over plates of delicious Middle Eastern food at Mazza’s in Salt Lake City, we discussed our plans, goals, and thoughts about the ski season.  While we were full of ideas, we were also short on free time and a budget.  I ate some pita bread and thought of what we could do.  Caroline wanted to make a video focusing on her training regime.  I had a lot of commitments over the winter, but I had a kernel of an idea for a video.  A few more servings of muhamara and loobia later and we’d come up with a plan.  We just needed to shoot some video before the snows hit and then meet again a few months later to get some on-snow shots.

The next week, we met again in SLC and over the course of one day we were able to shoot video of Caroline running in the foothills, working out at the gym, and hiking at Snowbird Resort.  It was a long, fun day, and I knew I captured a lot of great shots.  We said goodbye and wished each other all the best during the upcoming ski season.  I threw together a quick assembly edit to make sure I had all the shots I needed, then I moved on to other gigs and didn’t think much about our unfinished project.

Between Caroline’s world travels and my own “schedule restrictions” (aka – other obligations that required skiing), we couldn’t choose a day to meet until April.  Unfortunately, the weak snow year was also deciding to give up the ghost and leave us even earlier than usual.  As we talked about our plans, the prospect of running out of snow was very real.  Luckily, two late season storms hit and gave us the saving grace of a new layer of snow.  Then, almost immediately after it fell, this white goodness started to melt, too.

As we drove up the Little Cottonwood Canyon I noticed the buds on the maple trees opening up.  The canyon was a sea of glowing green.  Beautiful, but not what I needed to capture some “on snow” shots.  I was worried we’d waited too late in the season.  One mile down the canyon from Snowbird the snow coverage was still sketchy and I was still worried.  A couple more miles up the canyon and we parked at the base of Mt Superior.  Caroline pointed at the approach and the chute she wanted to ski.  It looked great!  The cruel sun didn’t have a clear shot, with it so nicely nestled at a bit over 8,000 ft we found our perfect location.

It was a short morning skin and boot pack followed by a short ski back down.  The video came together rather quickly at that point.  It attempts to showcase not only the work that goes into training for Caroline’s physically demanding adventures into the mountains, but her thoughts about why she is always in pursuit of Type 2+ fun.  Enjoy!

Caroline Gleich: carolinegleich.com
video by Chris Morgan: twosherpas.com
music by Steve Gibbs: stevegibbsmusic.com

Adventure Dining Guide heads into the Colorado backcountry with Summit County natives Jake Black and Tanner Banks.  Tanner explains how to start a healthy fire in the snow using an avalanche shovel, while Jake cooks up his Venison Hobo Hot Pockets.  This fun episode has some great pointers to help you get cooking during the winter.

To watch the full episode and learn the secrets to Jake and Tanner’s successful meal check out www.adventurediningguide.com.

Day two, we overslept. It was only 8 AM but we missed our window of opportunity to climb and ski anything of significance. We conceded that the day would be better served by setting up an auxiliary camp close to some of our targets as well as observing the snow and sun movement in order to have a more educated idea of our possibilities. The basis of our conversations the night before revolved around the large, open north-west face of the peak looker’s right of Kickstep. Due the sun’s movement, we figured our magic window would be between noon and one, just after the sun began to hit the slope. Anything before would be rock hard ice, anything after would be too soft and run the risk of wet slides.

There we were digging again, not skiing. Pausing for lunch, we were treated to a fireworks show of sorts. It was just before three and like clockwork, southerly and easterly faces around us let go of what was left of the snowpack. Our serenity was interrupted by what sounded like jet engines echoing around the valley every five minutes. They served as stark reminders of the omnipresent dangers that exist in the mountains, amplified by below average snowpack and above average temperatures. After lunch and some impromptu nude foot races, we put our gear back on and collectively skied some fun, low-angle terrain before returning to camp and calling it a day.

Up before the dawn, the four of us set out on the day’s mission. As we reached Camp II, Lange, Sage, and myself continued towards the ridge as Sales remained behind with the promise of hot pancakes and bacon upon our return. The three of us traversed along a route that alternated between snow and exposed tundra on the way to the base of the ridge. We decided the quickest way up the ridge would be to boot pack so we strapped up and began the hike. Lange took point and broke trail – MVP of the day. The ridge was a lot longer than it looked but after an hour of solid hiking, we made it to the top.

The sun had yet to hit the face and sure enough, it was frozen solid. We found a cozy plot of exposed tundra to rest our legs as we cracked jokes about what Sales had been doing by himself for the past four hours. Over the radio, Sales’ voice crackled, “Okay, you guys ready to drop?” Our reply was concise and resounding, “No dude, it’s rock hard!” I awoke from a nap about an hour later, slightly startled at my surroundings. This place is indescribably beautiful with layers upon layers of mountains as far as I could see. Testing the snow, it was go time.

One by one, we descended the ridge to the top of the open face. I won – or lost, depending on your view point – rock, paper, scissors for first drop. Pointing down the fall-line, I made a few cautious turns as I approached the blind roll-over. Feeling confident with the perfect corn beneath my skis, I raced down the remainder of the slope and raised my arms in elation as I made one final arc towards the direction of camp. In a safe spot, I cheered as I watched my two friends snake down the two-thousand foot face at high speeds.

Stoke was high as we rendezvoused at Camp II. Sure enough, we had hot pancakes and bacon waiting for us. Jet engines signaled that the day was done, but we didn’t mind. One run was all that we needed. That feeling still hadn’t worn off as we sat around the fire that night on our three-piece sectional made out of snow. Returning to Anchorage the following day to see Sage off on his journey for higher education, we took the time to recoup, refuel, and resupply. Real furniture that wasn’t constructed out of snow sure was a welcome sight.

Check out the beginning of this series in Part I of the Myst crew’s Alaska trip report.

Four season tent – check. Skis, boots, skins – check. Beacon, shovel, probe – check. Harness, rope, ice screws, crampons, axe – check. Beer, whiskey – check. Reindeer sausage – check. “You sure all of this will fit?” Camera gear, radios, stove – check. We sat in Sage’s basement meticulously packing all of our gear into the sled and respective packs. Preceding this was a full day of frantic running around Anchorage ensuring that nothing was forgotten for five days of camping and skiing. By mid-afternoon, we set off along the Seward Highway en route to our destination.

I was taken aback by the surrounding scenery as we drove along the Turnagain Arm. This was the first time that I have ever witnessed such dramatic peaks arise immediately from the ocean. Sales informed me that this body of water has some of the most dramatic tidal ranges in the world. As the tide ebbs and flows during the colder months of the year, car-sized blocks of ice will be traveling along the inlet as if they were another vehicle on the highway. No such frozen cars today, but there was a fair share (read: more than one) bald eagles flying overhead – perhaps an omen of good things to come.

A short ninety minute drive had us at the turn-off where we would embark. The route we selected was a fairly mellow skin that would have us at the planned campsite well before sundown. In hindsight, we should have left in the morning allowing easier transport of our sled, which at this point weighed well over a hundred pounds. Our timing was largely centered on Sage returning to Anchorage in a few days to board a flight to Chicago for the start of med school, leaving us with no choice but to depart this afternoon. Sage bravely volunteered as the first sled mule and we set off at a less-than blistering pace along half-frozen, half-cream corn snow. Less than five hundred yards from the start, the sled had already tipped over, requiring two of us to assist in getting it back upright. This was going to take a lot more effort than we had originally hoped.

Spirits were high despite the slog. Smiles visible, jokes aplenty, even as we lifted the sled upright time and time again. Two hours in, after some bushwhacking and a change of course, I hopped in the saddle despite knowledge of some inclines ahead. This wasn’t so bad. Aside from a few tip-overs here and there, it was relatively smooth sailing complete with a hundred pounds strapped to my hips. We approached our first sustained climb for about a half mile, maybe a fifteen to twenty degree slope at its steepest point. This climb might as well have been vertical. In the two hours it took us to get to this point, it required another two hours to ascend a quarter of that distance. At its worst, Lange was carrying Sage’s skis as Sage pushed the sled from behind because I could no longer get the thing to move under my own power. The smile was gone from my face. By the time we crested the ridge, it had been five hours since we left the car. Exhausted from two hours reminiscent of power sled workouts for soccer, I handed sled duty over to Lange for the final push as I basked in my new found fleet-footedness.

Still short of our intended campsite, we settled on a level plot of land sheltered by tall trees on all sides. As the other three began to dig a solar well and pit for our fire, I set off on a brief recon mission to see where we ended up. Fifteen minutes above camp, I first got eyes on Kickstep and the surrounding zone. It was just as it was described to me, except for the fact that the spine face to the north was all but melted out and wet slide debris was visible on just about every aspect of the compass. Changing over, a smile came back to my face as I linked some downhill turns through the trees back to camp. Finally! I made my first turns in Alaska.

Part III of the Myst crew’s Alaska trip report is up next.
In case you missed it, check out Part I of the Myst crew’s Alaska trip report.

Fifteen hours into a day that will be burned into my memory forever, I paused amidst watching Nick Langelotti manhandle our gear sled down a now-grassy slope. I thought about the Alaska I optimistically envisioned before I landed in Anchorage – you know, the Alaska that you’ve seen in just about any form of ski media ever published. I was standing there, thinking about the raid about to ensue at the Girdwood Tesoro station, if we ever got there. Knee deep in a frozen porridge, I was more exhausted, cold, and hungry than I have ever been in my entire life. Just after midnight, I collapsed on the gravel parking lot we had departed from 18 hours prior. It was simultaneously the best and worst ski day of my life and is the embodiment of my first trip to Alaska.

Rewind three weeks to a Taco Tuesday meeting at Spedelli’s in Salt Lake City, Lange, Eric Sales, and myself met up to discuss our plans and expectations for the trip. The idea was to tour into a zone at the foot of Kickstep Mountain in the Turnagain Pass region of the Chugach Mountains. From there – on a good year – we could tour to a multitude of options including spine faces, open bowls, and even an attempt on summiting Kickstep. This was not a good year, with mountain ranges in Southern Alaska seeing snowpack levels well below average for late April. Upon landing in Anchorage, it became clear that we would have to dial back pretty much all of our expectations.

We were picked up at the airport by Sage Gale, Sales’ college buddy who grew up just outside Anchorage. Sage’s contributions to the trip are priceless as his family took us in and allowed us to stay in their basement for two weeks. Shortly after arriving at Sage’s home, we were in the hot tub in the backyard with local Alaskan brews in hand. Catching up and ragging on each other, I interrupted the conversation by pointing out a faint, grey-green streak dancing in the sky above me. Sage assured me that it was probably a cloud, and that he had only seen The Lights this far south only a handful of times. I was not convinced and the longer we gazed, the more we began to realize that this was indeed a solar event. We hopped into dry clothes and cruised thirty minutes north to get further away from any light pollution.

This couldn’t be happening. Surely, within two hours of being in Alaska I was witnessing one of Mother Nature’s greatest shows for the first time in my life. We stood there in awe. Sales taking exposure shots, naturally. The grey-green streak had turned into green waves gently moving across the sky. We watched for about an hour before the full day of travel had caught up with us and we decided to turn in. There was quite a bit of work to do over the next two days to prepare our gear and supplies for the coming days. We were there to ski after all, although beers and a hot tub were pretty enticing.

Good morning Little Cottonwood.  I have always thought you looked beautiful in white.  Caught the sunrise as we were skinning up Grizzly Gulch.

First Little Cottonwood Dawn Patrol 2014

Conditions are definitely bony.  But oh so good to be on skis again.

This is my “winter is finally upon us!!” face.

Remember Indian burns when you were a kid? My brother and I would give them to each other for fun. We would grab the other’s arms with both hands and twist, quickly in opposite directions, and then we’d fall over laughing about the brief pain it caused. Now imagine having that feeling all the time in your shins along with intense stabbing, like a toothpick was boring into your leg. I came to call this stabbing pain my “tiny, evil-elves.”  I could see them laughing and poking me with little pitch forks.  This is chronic nerve pain.

It was spring of 2011 and the snow season was a good one! We had just come back from a trip with out of state friends to Vail, CO. The back bowls were so heavy with snow our friends got stuck. It was one of those trips that keep you chasing fresh tracks and dreaming of cold smoke.  I was starting to notice that I had low back pain, sciatica in particular. That’s the hot, radiating pain from your low back that spreads across your butt cheeks. I thought it was just from being at a desk for 8+ hours each day since I had been working at my 1^st sedentary job in years.

Being a person who is pretty proactive when it comes to health, over the next 2 years I tried everything from chiropractors, massage, acupuncture, exercise physiology to prescription anti-inflammatories and pain medications. Everything helped, for a little while. I would feel great and the pain would go away, then it would slowly start to creep back in. These were elves I could live without.

In June of 2013, after dealing with my elves for over 2 years, I decided it was time to see a specialist. An MRI revealed a herniated disk. What caused it? Good question. With an L5, S1 herniation it’s really hard to say. That’s the joint in your low, low back that connects your pelvis to your spine. It’s the most common place to get a herniation. Disks are made up of spongy, crab meat like material. A herniation is when the lining that holds the crab meat in, ruptures and the crab meat pushes out into your spinal canal that holds all your nerve roots, thus the nerve pain in your legs and sciatica in the low back. It’s this particular area of the spine that the nerve roots come out of the spine and run down into the legs. So I had disc material compressing my nerves.

Can this be healed on its own? Yes, in many cases this is possible. However, since I had already done just about every conservative treatment available the less invasive methods were looking grim for me. More physical therapy was prescribed and then a cortisol steroid injection into my spine was tried. This was partially to diagnoses the kind of surgery I would need, as well as to relieve pain. Since sleeping was becoming sporadic the pain relief was welcomed! The decision to proceed with a micro discectomy surgery to clean out the herniation was made. I felt thankful for not needing a fusion.

I spent New Year’s Eve 2013 on pain medication recovering from surgery. Not an ideal party, but at least today I’m mostly pain free. Although it’s proving to be a long and challenging road to recovery, I am thankful for my health and know that it can always be worse. I was saddened to miss the season last year. But I’m super stoked for the coming one!

I’ve come to a place with my snowboarding and my back pain that has made me appreciate quality riding over quantity. I’m no longer a beginner just trying to improve on a groomed run. I’ve been there already. So what’s next with my great love of snowboarding? I believe the answer is backcountry.

As I spent my disability recovering from my tiny, yet huge, 2” incision I started to look into backcountry riding. I found tons of information and sites that offer everything from avalanche education, gear, guides to snowcat and helicopter tours. Wow! It’s overwhelming in fact. Intimidating is somewhat of an understatement. Do I need to be a professional to do this kind of thing? The information was not very centralized. I’ve spent hours researching and combing through all the sites.  I feel like I have just as many questions as when I started. Then I had an ah-ha moment! What if I came up with something to centralize all of this information? I’ve always wanted to be self-employed and I am passionate about snow play. The idea for Snow Minions was born.

My vision for Snow Minions is that it will become the hub of backcountry resources and education. A central location for people to connect with what they need to fulfill their passion for powder. Why not share my learning with others so that they can progress too? So I’m building a website and blog that will create a place for people to learn and grow into the backcountry experience. This backcountry concept feels elusive, like it’s something meant for professionals or adrenaline junkies only. Snow Minions is the bridge between those that want to drop off a 30 foot cliff face and people like me, who are simply looking to have quality days on un-groomed snow. This is my chance to do something that both me and my body love.

I see an opportunity to reach out to all of the other people like myself that want more out of their skiing/riding experience than lift lines and crowds. I mean, there’s no way that I’m the only person seeking this change in their snow experience that’s feeling a bit lost in the backcountry conversation. I’m just not that unique. This seems to be the right idea at the right time. I hope I’m right.

So this is my shot at getting out of the “cube farm” career path and onto something more active. Something that will help my back get better and stronger, not possibly cause another surgery. It’s crazy to me that sitting could be the culprit. I may have to learn to live with some intermittent nerve pain for the rest of my life anyway. As I sit and type this story, my elves are back. I can hear them laughing maniacally. Ironically, this motivates me. I’m on a mission to heal my body, get stronger and happier even if I have to accept that these elves could be my life-long friends. At least I know they love to snowboard. Maybe one day I can consider them my friends, warning me of when I have done too much.

This is my journey on the path of health and recovery. Overcoming the Evil Elves has opened my eyes to dreams I was unaware I wanted to chase. It may not be pain-free, but I guess life isn’t either. I’ll see you at the next peak, chasing that cold smoke. Race you to the top?!

Skiing has been all consuming in my life for as long as I can remember and my love for the sport matured alongside one of the closest friendships I have ever known: Mike, my partner in crime, my confidant and my brother. On Saturday, February 1^st, 2014, Mike and his roommate Harrison were on an ordinary tour in Hatcher’s Pass, Alaska. As is typical in the Talkeetnas in mid-March, it was a cold and clear morning; the type which freezes your toes in the quick transfer from your sneakers to your boots. The tour up to the Jupiter bowl is a classic. The trail follows an old hiking path that cuts through an abandoned mine and snakes along the edge of a lake. It was a favorite of ours because of the fantastic views of Denali and the fast open bowls that run back to the car.

On this day, the usually tranquil tour would become anything but when Mike collapsed suddenly on the backside of the bowl. He had suffered a massive heart attack, caused by an undiagnosed heart defect. After twenty fruitless minutes of CPR, Harrison rigged a sled from Mike’s skis and began to drag him the three miles back to the car. Four hours later, Mike was pronounced dead at the hospital at the age of 23.

In the moments following, I received a call from Harrison. The excitement of hearing from my old friend disintegrated as soon as I pressed the phone to my ear. It was difficult to distinguish any words through his tears. He stopped to compose himself, and with tremors in his voice, whispered, “Mike is dead”. Confused, all I could utter in response was, “what?” I had clearly heard him, but I couldn’t believe it was true. There was silence on the line and in that unspoken moment we could feel each other’s pain. There was nothing more to be said, so we ended the call with a melancholy promise to talk soon.

I looked down at my dog as he nuzzled deeper into the side of my leg and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. But it wasn’t a sadness I felt inside, rather emptiness, like part of my self had suddenly been ripped out leaving an unfillable void. However, it was not yet time to cry; so I turned off my phone and headed back to Alaska.

Usually, I don’t have any problem sleeping on planes, but my mind was restless. That weekend I was giving a eulogy for a man who words could not accurately describe. I found it more fitting to share one of our adventures instead; a moment in which Mike had unintentionally changed my life. One February night in North Conway, several years ago, Mike and I had made plans to tour Mt. Washington and ski the ice-fall first thing in the morning. We woke up early and made it to the base by 6am. A short time later we had made it to the bottom of “Chute” and were transitioning from skinning to boot-packing. It was a cold, wispy morning and my buff was coated in a hardened, wind-blown snow. I was tired, blistered and uncomfortable. About half way up the chute, Mike looked back at me to find my head down, taking one step at a time and hoping for the sun to come up and finally warm my bones. He yelled down at me, “Pick your head up; don’t let life pass you by”. I looked up in angst, as if he was patronizing me. But when I did the sun began to peak over the mountains to the east illuminating the snowflakes blowing through the cold mountain air. It was that morning sparkle that we always hope to catch, but rarely do; one of those moments that makes the struggle worth it.  His words would stick with me for the rest of my life as I watched him live happy and carefree.

After the funeral, I headed straight to Hatcher’s. I traded my suit and tie for boots and skis and took the lonely tour up to Jupiter bowl just before sunset. As I sat at the top, staring hopelessly at Denali to my West, I removed my precious cargo from my pack; two cold PBRs. I cracked them both, and as I took my first sip, I poured the other out into the snow which had claimed Mike’s life. It would be the last beer I would ever have with my best friend.

My remaining week in Alaska would bring some of my best ski days of the season. I was surrounded by good friends, cold beer and my touring setup. I was determined to live my life the way Mike would have wanted, happily. While he may be gone, he lives on in all of the hearts he’s touched, and every turn I take, he takes with me. When I think of him, I’ll always remember the quote above his desk, “Don’t give up, don’t ever give up” – Jim Valvano. So, keep on shredding with a smile on your face and Mike in your heart. If life happens, pick your head up; don’t let the world pass you by, and get out there and spread some stoke.

I saw Tori’s new website and I thought it was a really cool idea to spread stoke and promote positivity, so I thought I would contribute to the cause.

In my opinion the best kind of stoke is shared with those you care about.

Lately, I have been pretty obsessed with backcountry skiing, so when my family expressed interest in trying it out I was both impressed and excited. After a long period of wanting to go, but never quite making it happen because conditions weren’t quite perfect, I finally told my mom to just pick a date because we really don’t need perfect conditions to go out for the first time. This turned out to be a good idea and she choose President’s Day, which was a day that neither of us were working. We were hopeful that my brother Geensmack or my dad could come along, but it didn’t quite work out for either of them. Undeterred, and after a lengthy discussion of what to wear and bring, my mother and I trundled off to Alta with the plan of using the lifts for some lift accessed backcountry skiing.

Once we arrived, we were bamboozled by how crowded it was at Alta. We probably should have expected it because it was a holiday, but the lift lines were looooooong and it wasn’t even a powder day. This primarily served to make us all the more stoked that we weren’t going to be stuck in them all day. Once we got to the top of Supreme and entered the backcountry, it felt great to escape the hectic rat race happening on the inbounds slopes and enter into the backcountry where things are peaceful. It is such an amazing feeling when you pass under the rope or through the gate and suddenly it feels like a new world that is detached from all the madness of civilization. The backcountry, especially in winter, is a calm and peaceful place where worries evaporate and profound thoughts somehow wander into my mind. Also. . . the skiing is way better there. All of his is what I wanted to share with my mom.

We started out by skinning up to a classic powder line called Point Supreme. It was Mom’s first time skinning so it took a little getting used to but she did great. I really like teaching my mom new skills because she does a really great job of listening to my directions and trying her best to do exactly what I describe. It’s wonderful. Needless to say she caught on fast and in no time we were on top of Point Supreme ready to ski our first run.

Here is a photo taken just after glorious completion of a kick turn, not an easy task for a first timer.

After our first run, the stoke was high, so we transitioned rapidly and scampered back up the hill to schralp it again.

The second run was even better than the first and Mom was loving the whole backcountry skiing experience.

At the bottom of our second, run we decided to take a break and bask in our glory. I showed Mom how to make a chair out of skies and we enjoyed some victory pizza while gazing at our fresh tracks. Spirits were quite high.

After a hike back up Mom was pretty tired and happy so we skied back into Alta and returned to the real world excited to get back in the backcountry together again soon.

Thanks for the super fun day Mom!!

I love you!

I recently took a spontaneous trip out to Jackson Hole, Wyoming to chase a deep winter storm.

January 27th: I was at Northstar Resort in 55 degree weather taking some really fun park laps when I rode up the chair lift with a couple of friends, Aaron Zook and Kim Reinhardt. They were telling me about a trip out to Jackson Hole and Park City, Utah that they were about to go on. I was super jealous since I knew that both of those mountains were getting some decent snow.  Luckily, they had one seat left in their car, and they said a tiny person like me could come along for the adventure!  I was so excited for this opportunity that as soon as I got home I got all of my shifts cover for work and packed my bag.

We left Tahoe around 11:00 p.m and our friend Paul drove the whole 12 hours straight through the night till we made it to Jackson Hole.  The 1st day we spent exploring the beautiful town of Jackson.  The following day we rose to fresh snow on the ground, all of us could not stop smiling except for Aaron.  He unfortunately decided to backflip off of a Jackson sign and ended up bruising his heal.  Aaron was put out of commission for a few days till he could force his foot back into his ski boot.

The rest of us rushed to the mountain. We stood in the tram line for about 45 min and got freshies all day. With a few days of riding Jackson Hole resort, Paul and I wanted to explore the Teton Pass.  We met up with his good friend Aaron who is a level three avalanche certified guide.  We wanted to be safe and of course ride the best terrain possible.  He took us to Teton Pass and we hiked the Glory Bowl.  We gained over 2,000 vertical feet with our summit to the top.  During the ride down I could not stop shouting with joy. I don’t think I have been that happy all season.  Here’s a video of just how good it was:

The snow was extremely light and deep, myself only being 5 ft tall it was a lot deeper for me than the boys!  Ha the joys of being tiny. Once we reached the road and got a ride back to our car we decided to hike another peak called Chivers.  This hike only took us about 15-20 minutes, a much shorter hike but the terrain was still untouched and deep.  During my trip out in Jackson, Paul and I did both of these hikes twice. I needed to get my hiking legs back and I am now ready for heading into desolation when I return home to Tahoe.

On January 28th we left Jackson and drove 6 hours to Park City. The next day Aaron Zook and I rode Canyons.  Canyons is a very large resort and we had a great time getting lost while dipping into the trees.  For some reason, everyone at Canyons just stayed on the groomers. I was in no way complaining about that. Finding fresh snow all over the mountain.  after a week of being on the road, I was ready to return home. With my luck I brought a little snow home with me to the Tahoe area.

Today I rode Heavenly resort with a fresh 16″. Winter is just about to start here in the Sierra Mountains and I could not be more excited!

I want to give a huge shout out to my sponsors:

Shoreline of Tahoe, Flow Snowboards, Akinz, Heavenly Mountain Resort, Shred Betties, Ra Optics and Honey Badger performance energy.   A special thanks to Shoreline of Tahoe for giving my board a fresh wax,  also lending me new poles and snowshoes. Your help really made my backcountry experience better!!

Another solo ride on my break while working at Snowbird. This is what split shifts are all about: SplitBoarding!

On my work break from 12-3 pm I made my way up Mt. Superior to do a little pow slashing! When I made it to the road at the bottom I hopped on a bus up to my car, made it back to work with time to spare. This definitely makes driving up the canyon to work worth while.

Ever since laying my hands on Chris Davenport’s Fifty Classic Ski Descents in North America, I have been dying to ski-mountaineer in the La Sals. With the Wasatch snowpack being a sugary heap of facets, my dad and I decided it was the perfect time to chase down some 12k peaks in the La Sals and get in some climbing at the same time.

Winter in Moab is the greatest kept state secret. Rather than dodging RVs full of big-bellied heartland-ers and heavily-accented Euros in 100+ degree weather, we found ourselves utterly alone at Wall Street, Moab’s most popular climbing crag. Classic trad-cracks and inventive sport climbs that usually have teams queued up at the bottom, were empty and eager to take my gear. While it was far from balmy, sandstone retains heat well and with the sun on the rock, my hands felt good in-between red blocks of stone. Looking out, the La Sals beckoned and my heart traipsed about, happy at the prospect of skin-assisted exploration.

On our first morning, I woke up to an extremely ill-timed and nasty bout of Strep but was determined to head into the La Sals even if it was just for a short tour. While the weather was clear in Moab proper, as we began our ascent to Geyser Pass, the sky overhead became blanketed with shifting cumulous clouds. We watched in astonishment as the car thermostat dropped to 0 degrees. At the well-used parking lot, we layered-up aggressively against the sharp cold and vicious wind. Despite the less-than-bluebird conditions and my rapidly diminishing health, we toured up to some promising looking open trees on the North-west banks of Mt. Mellenthin. At the end of our ascent, we looked down upon the red bluffs below. The juxtaposition of the harsh mountain environment and the dessert landscape below was shocking. On the descent we were gratified with some surprisingly good snow and playful tree turns.

While I had only been in the range for a few hours, already I was impressed by the wildness and dramatic setting of the la Sals. While Backcountry Skiing in Utah and a few other sources (including moutainman extraordinaire, Alex Quitiquit) had provided decent beta, we hadn’t expected to meet such challenging conditions in this odd-ball grouping of outcast peaks. I couldn’t believe the potential of the place. I spent the rest of the day urging my immune system to pick up the fight while hiking about an eerily empty Arches National Park.

The next morning, I felt quite a bit stronger and my dad and I decided to head in the direction of Mellenthin and Laurel Peaks on the off-chance that the weather and snowpack would support a summit attempt. While the skies were clear and the wind seemed to have died down significantly, it was much colder than the previous day.

The local avalanche report gave the current temperature on the top of Pre-Laurel Peak (which was on our route) at a balmy -9 degrees. We were not deterred. Heck, I go ice climbing which is always MISERABLY cold. So, we packed like yetis and began the steady ascent up the “Laurel Highway” climbing trail. While the climb was forgiving and gradual, the temperature in shaded tree areas dropped to around -20. Frozen in the extremities, we continued to climb until we broke tree line.

On the unprotected ridgeline, gusts of powerfully pissed-off cold air tried their best to push us off the mountain. Determined to at least get on top of something before the clouds blew in again, we pushed on to the summit of Laurel (12,271 ft). We debated continuing but upon looking down the connecting ridgeline to Mellenthin, we determined that the peaks had been blown bare to the point where boot-packing would be our only mode of travel…for the next several miles.

Yeah, we left that experience for the spring and more stable avalanche conditions.

After reaching our lack-luster peak, we quickly pulled skin and enjoyed excellent snow down through the “North Woods.” With white noses and foggy heads, we bundled into the car feeling sobered. The La Sals were no joke! The skiing was straightforward but the conditions were truly alpine. Naturally, I was psyched! Who knew?! Southern Utah!

In the spring, this place will be paradise.

The next day, we had a good breakfast and headed back to Arches, keen on wandering around an momentarily empty park. After an excellent hike to Tower Arch combined with some stellar bouldering en route (Note: if dancing up inflated pebbles is your thing-check this place out! Huge potential), we headed to Baker slabs for some techy friction climbing at the back end of the park.

Tired and still coughing, I spent the drive back to Park City going over maps trying to piece together a route that would allow for a traverse of all of the major La Sal summits. Come spring-It’s happening. For now, keep praying for more snow.

Grizzly Gulch photos

Every Season in Utah, I spend some time in SLC’s backyard known as Grizzly Gulch. It’s one of Utah’s easiest accessible back country zones. With famous views of Mt. Superior and spots like Chad’s Gap, it’s a must hit zone for anyone that enjoys the back country.

Grizzly is best with friends!

On our hike up into the gulch we practiced avalanche awareness. Grizzly has about every slope degree and aspect you can think of. It’s perfect to spend a day just studying conditions and brushing up on beacon techniques.

The main gully is a dangerous place all season. Traveling in safe zones on your way up is key. This slide was manageable for experts, but deadly for anyone stuck in the bottom.

It’s a big place! This is the west facing back wall. We planned on riding down the middle and the backside.  Using photos as reference when I get to the top helps. Some of the zone has been shaped by mining in the past, which creates a unique profile for powder-heads that like to catch some air!

The Back side of Grizzly dropping into Solitude.

Dropping into Solitude/Brighton periphery.

Joshua Parker Ending the day with a slash.

Grizzly Gulch is an adventure for all levels of riders. Be careful out there and always stress avalanche awareness. Bring the right equipment and a level head. Always travel in safe zones and be smart about your lines.  Having a good and responsible crew will get you home safe and sound with stories of adventure. Knowledge is power in the back country.

First preseason tour at Alta, UT.  I’m the closet person to the camera along with a friend Mike just above me.  You can see Mt. Baldy in the distance.  We skinned up just below Baldy Shoulder.  Although there’s early season snow pack, we still managed to get some face shots as we gingerly skied down avoiding any rocks in sight. POW POW POW!