Grand Targhee has always had a special place in my heart. Since I was about 5 years old, when my parents schlepped me there during a storm chasing episode in the early 80s, Targhee has always been my personal spiritual mecca. I spend no less than 10 hours a week looking at property in Driggs and the surrounding areas debating if I should just say “fuck it”, sell everything I own here in Utah, and … um, leave Utah for pow?? Haha, who leaves Utah for pow? For Targhee, one moves out of Utah.

Here’s a little early season stoke for y’all who dream of the Tetons on a daily basis. Crack open a bottle of wine, turn on the speakers, and kick those feet back. Winter is here bitches!

https://youtu.be/_MtGPYZMMTE

Some footage from July up in Jackson, Wyoming. Riding Lithium and Fuzzy Bunny off Teton Pass with some buddies!!

In every ski bum’s life there comes a point in which you pack up what you have in the wheels you have and head west. Maybe you are joining friends, maybe leading the charge, maybe some are coming along to blaze the trail for the rest… Either way, it feels less like a conscious decision and more like the inevitable next step in life. “I just knew I had to be in the mountains”, is what I hear a lot. Your family may support it because they too see this unavoidable phase in your life. Chances are you owe it to your folks who put you in ski school at an early age, paid for lessons, gear and lift tickets, gas and food, and lodging to get the days in. Or, maybe because they made the same decision long before and they too see that inevitable move to the mountains and support the path. Either way, you are now on your own, doing minimum wage work, and dedicating all of your free time to the pursuit of powder.

There are also the lucky ones that grew up and never left the ski town, living their entire lives under the mountains they were born beneath, but the majority of “locals” traveled to their destination. Often times, coming from the east coast or a neighboring Mountain Time state to stay for a few months, years or seasons until they move on to follow a friend, a job, or a girl/guy to the next resort town down the I-15 or I-70. You hold a job (or two) for the winter season and a different gig for the summer season supporting the local tourist economy. This job gets you your season pass (screw health insurance, even babysitting jobs have the “free pass” benefit in this town!), but it requires all hands on deck for the Holidays. No returning home, no Turkey with the family, no presents under the familiar tree or ski socks in the embroidered stocking. You’re on duty. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have family and it doesn’t mean you don’t have holidays.

When I decided for the first time to chase powder instead of flying east to Buffalo, NY for the annual 4am Blackout Wednesday debauchery and way too hungover Thanksgiving feast, I found myself heading to Jackson, WY where the storms were lining up and the base was being set. I reached out through my powder Rolodex to find a couch or two for the week and got set up with the Mad Trees crew out of UVM. With 18″ coming down on the pass in the 13th hour of the drive from Mammoth (and another 4-8″ forecasted each night after), the stage was set.

5am wake up calls for 6am bootpacks and skins off the pass were standard so everyone could get to work by 9am. Pressure to make it back to open the demo shop pushed the tempo up and put the pressure on. I spent the days at Grand Targhee or on the Teton Pass with new groups to skin with and hitchhike with. At 3pm we would meet back up for another bootpack/skin off the pass to close out each day. Three intense days to kick off a big week leading up to Jackson Hole opener and a big storm on the horizon. 20″+ expected in the upper elevations Tuesday into Wednesday so we started planning an overnight hut trip (yes – in November) in Grand Teton National Park. The big storm came in warm and wet though, and shifted the plans as avalanche danger went off the charts. The intensity didn’t falter though as the crew built road gaps on the outskirts of town, ripping backflips under the lights of snowmobiles and stemming the appetite for powder with good times, friends, beers and a lot of karaoke (you can find them at The Virginian every Wednesday night). Ski tweaking at its finest.

Then, after a bluebird opener at Jackson Hole, we made 100lbs+ of food (including 2 20lb turkeys) to feed the 25 East Coasters and friends made along the way that chased a dream, followed a friend, made a decision, or just took that inevitable next step to head west. In the end, to head to a place with a job next to a big ass mountain with a shit ton of powder. A place where avalanches are real, where danger is tangible, where skill, knowledge, and balls are a must.

Thanksgiving with Mad Trees reminded me that a life of a ski bum and a holiday away from family doesn’t change the holiday at all. It just changes the family you surround yourself with. Ride on boys.

Mad Trees is a community of riders from the East Coast who are spread across the country for the epic pursuit of an epic mountain life. Follow them at @madtreesusa or madtrees.org as they shred Washington, Wyoming, Utah and Vermont.

If there is one thing I can always count on, it’s good skiing in the Tetons. Even early season- even during the holidays! A quick trip home for Thanksgiving exceeded my high expectations (per usual). There were face shots. There were kickers. There was snow and there were so many friends and family to enjoy it with. There were high fives, laughter, and we all got Trapped just in time for the Packers-Patriots kickoff. Just wanted to share the good word (SNOW) and some fun photos from my visit home to Grand Targhee Resort.

Max Mackenzie, pictured above, spins off anything and everything. Core shots were hardly a concern.

Kaki Orr gets stoked on her first air of the season. Although she’s coming back from a major knee injury that prematurely ended her ’13-’14 season, she ripped around the ‘Ghee like the raddest skier on the mountain. All smiles returning to snow.

Dorian Densmore, above, getting methodical off the kicker.

Without fail, this trip has me STOKED to go back for more. I don’t know where you’re all going for the holidays, but I know I am going back to Grand Targhee as soon as possible. Maybe by 2015, we’ll have another 100 inches… keep your eyes on the prize and I’ll hope to see you there!

Snow Report and Information available at http://www.grandtarghee.com

Spread Stoke Editor Tip: Save some moolah on your Grand Targhee lift tickets here at Liftopia.com!

Living in Salt Lake City, Utah deciding on a destination for wilderness travel can seem daunting. With so many national and state park in reach the selection is quite large. With this post I want to focus on Grand Teton National Park.

Copyright: Stuart Derman 2014

Growing up in New Jersey my access to wilderness areas was quite limited. However, I had the good fortune of having parents that wanted to vacation somewhere other than the typical beach destination. My family traveled to some of the most amazing wilderness areas in the world. America’s National Parks System has served as a model for both preservation and connecting people with some of the most beautiful and stunning natural environments on earth. Grand Teton was one of the first National Parks that I traveled to on my quest to visit each of the 58 National Parks in the system. Coming from New Jersey, I had never seen mountains like the Tetons. Their huge and incredible heights dwarfed everything around them. One of my favorite places in the park is Jenny Lake. This incredible lake is estimated to be over 400 feet deep. As a photographer, I love this area in the spring/early summer. The snow is dramatic and makes for an amazing vista.

Photo Recommendations:

1) Get there early!

2) Stay near Jenny Lake

3) Clouds make the peaks more dramatic

Copyright: Stuart Derman 2014

4) Get as close to the water as possible

5) HAVE FUN!

Copyright: Stuart Derman 2014

Out of the seven days of the week, Monday probably takes the cake for least favorite day. The weekend is over, the hangover is rough and the average Joe goes back to a world full of people they spent the last three nights trying to forget about. Back to the stinky hallways and claustrophobic cubicles, forced conversations and the all-important meeting that for unknown reasons, requires your attendance. Mondays mark the return to the hell hole.

It was just another Monday morning as I scarfed a jelly donut while waiting for my carpool to pick me up from the parking lot at the Park City Dirt Jumps. Dustin Orem’s mini-van rolled up, so I downed the last of my coffee and took a seat next to Jonesy Fedderson and Riley Smith. We had one more stop in Coalville to pick up Matt Beringer before we’d be on our way to the Hell Hole. Not the same hell hole, however, that most people were commuting to that morning. None of us were agonizing over the thought of sitting at a desk for 8 hours, or correctly filing TPS reports. We only had thoughts of drinking full strength domestics and shredding some BMX bikes at the Hell Hole full pipe in Wyoming.

It might not be the secret spot it once was, but no one will tell you Hell Hole has lost its appeal. There’s something different, something special about venturing away from the perfectly sculpted concrete parks and over-sessioned street spots in urban neighborhoods. Sometimes we get trapped in our comfort bubble. Smooth transitions and effortless flow are hard to find in the middle of farmland, America. But, if you’re up for a little adventure and a challenge, spots like Hell Hole can not only humble you, but remind you of how rewarding it is to put in work for a few tube rides.

We arrived to find some newly installed gates blocking the service road that parks you right at the pipe. Perhaps a sign of the developed popularity of the spot. A little hike is always good for getting the blood flowin’ though, that, and some house cleaning. Lurkers find it amusing to toss rocks down the mouth of the elbow. Can’t say I wouldn’t be tempted myself if I wasn’t aware of the hellish nightmare I would create for anyone sessioning the pipe. Matt will tell you first hand, that nightmare sucks when it becomes a reality.

A quick sweep was all that was needed before the session was on. Everyone took turns charging up the tube, high marking the elbow before carving the 200 feet back out of the snake. It was all smiles, with every run feeling better than the last. Each new high mark was raising the stoke, and every fresh skid made a lasting impression. Jonesy threw down a couple flares and over-vert hand plants while Riley stacked some clips for an upcoming edit. Matt was typically creative in-between speed runs, rocket sliding the belly of the pipe from the elbow all the way out the spout, and Dustin couldn’t get enough flow rides, pumping the walls all afternoon. It was tiring just to watch him, but his energy never faded, nor did his big, bearded grin.

By afternoon, we had cranked enough pedals to clean any gunk out of the lungs. There were no more man-cans to crush and the graffiti lining the pipe was getting blurry, so we loaded the bikes back in Dustin’s van. High-fives for the good times were in order after some hard work on a Monday. No deadlines to meet today though, just the tough decision of what photo to gram on the drive home. There was only one thing left to do before we crossed back over Brigham’s border. A quick stop at the discount liquor store in Evanston was necessary to fill all the empty space in the van. Enough full strength to last until the next Monday!

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!!

The western realm of this country is a vast playground. But we all knew that didn’t we? The conversation of how I could never live in a place like New York City came up again on this trip, and the State of Wyoming drives that nail even harder into my mind.

Not only is the road there a bit wandering and a bit solace, but it crosses some of the most wide open country I’ve experienced. This is the way the pioneers went as they crossed the nation in better prospects, heading northwest to Oregon, in promise of prosperity. The Northwest Passage through the Rockies, an anomaly among otherwise towering peaks.

At the foothills of the Wind River Range, a range that deserves to be explored in the near future, is the nestled crags of Wild Iris. A short shot from Lander, about 20 minutes, and a long way from anywhere else, it’s a bit of a scene, in a good way.

Camping mere minutes from the OK Corral Wall, with, what my girlfriend and buddy referred to as a “gaggle” of puppies, we were amidst the sparse evergreen glade that runs the length of the cliff and offers shade on an otherwise dry hillside. We wasted no time settling in and getting to the good part; the rock clambering!

Also, the beer. If not for climbing, any state touching Utah is defined as the bootlegging source for our malted barley beverages. We loaded up on some WPA (Wyoming Pale Ale) – Scotch Ale, some Dark deliciousness from a local brewery. All hail to the liquid courage!

At the OK Corral, the routes are short. Surprisingly so at first, but what they lack in height, they make up for in climbing. Going guidebook-less we led the pack of puppies to the wall and tried to be inspired by whatever we saw, and to say the least we were.

The stone, dolomite limestone, is everything conducive to climbing. Pockets, deep and positive, features for feet, and sporty movement is the soup of the day. Of course, we started the trip off with a no-star warm up. Even devoid of stars, the route climbed well – like an American Fork route minus the polish and people swarm.

And in true fashion the next route climbed was a gear protected hand crack. As much as my friends would love to bash me for it, you can’t just turn down an inspiring natural line. The route climbed well, 9+, wavy and slightly flared hands and fists to an existing anchor above another route. It was probably climbed before, but a First Second Ascent is fine by me.

More beer. Then some more climbing, pitches on pitches.

We decided to eat in Lander that night, we chose the Mexican restaurant. Pitchers of margarita, Mole enchiladas and chips. Can’t beat it for climbing fuel.

The next day we warmed up at the OK Corral and headed over to the Main Wall, a short jaunt from the main lot. We wanted to try Cowboy Poetry, the namesake route on the wall of the same title, two pitches, 11b to 12a. The first pitch was awesome, good pockets, some slopers, and great movement. Lamwise the brave sacked up and launched up the 5.12a, hucking and sticking the opening dyno moves and finished the short pitch in style. I followed, flailed a bit, but managed.

A friend of mine and fellow climber, Derek Newman, and his girlfriend Miranda Girandi, showed up and they joined us at the Zorro Wall, the first established wall at Wild Iris and bolstering some of the best climbing.

Zorro and its easier neighbor Gaucho, offered amazing steep pocket climbing with big moves and fluid movement. We were all enamored by the routes, and enjoyed them as the finishing romps of a good day.

The ability to climb as many routes as you want at Wild Iris is limited to the sustainability of your skin. I was losing my ability to touch anything, by the end of the day it felt as if my hands were dipped in lava. Lam felt the same.

That night we grilled eggplant over the fire, drank copious amounts of beer and shared stories and contemplated future trips. The trick to a good climbing trip is not the destination as so much as the people you are with. It seems you could make a trip out of Dogwood as long as you bring good friends, don’t take this shit seriously, and climb whatever inspires you.

The next day Lamwise and Derek put away a new classic 5.12 at the OK Corral, no excuses on my part but my skin didn’t allow the redpoint. We finished on some good routes and packed up camp amidst the darkening sky.

We capped the trip off with a stop in Atlantic City, not that one, but this little old mining town with a saloon that served up some amazing burgers, fries, and, yes, beer on tap. We were surprised the place wasn’t overrun by climbers, but maybe it will stay our little secret.

I think after climbing gear routes for so long, a trip to a renowned sport climbing destination was well earned?

After all, climbing is climbing, and choss is choss, gravity still designs this sport, but beer and good friends define it.