Mud,Rocks, and a Fat Tire

This weekend was a special week for me as it was my first attempt at an 'ultra' running event. I'm not sure I know the real definition of an ultra except its longer than 26.2 miles and seems to usually happen on trails instead of roads. My particular event was the BigHorn 50m. Months ago when we where still out skiing we set up a race schedule for the summer in preparation for another, more famous ultra. In our great foresight someone decided this would be a good 50m race, being its June we should have been well trained--or maybe we didn't think that we would be skiing into late April. Anyway June 1st roles around and my longest run is like 16 miles, far short of a 50. I start to panic which equals more training. Unfortunately 3 short weeks isn't really enough time for that type of prep.

When we arrive at registration I am surrounded by incredibly fit individuals that make me feel like the fat guy that takes up two seats. After an evening of pasta, a poor nights sleep, and a long drive to 8800ft we are at the 600am start time. Off we go into the mud and snow. Its difficult to explain the apprehension associated with starting out an endurance event like this. Your scared, focused, and alert to a large number of things. Any one of these things could cause you to fail. And as my friend likes to say... There is no sag-wagon on a trail run. So as we start out the race I start thinking about 1.) Keeping my heart rate low and my strides small as to conserve all the energy that I can. 2.) Making sure to have the best footing possible to keep from turning and ankle or anything else 3.) Doing my very best to keep the feet dry. Unfortunately the first 6-10 miles was serious mud and snow. Some people just gave up and filled their shoes with mud and water, others would carefully work through to keep as much water and mud out as possible. I was in this crowd. Looking down at my feet right now, I should have tried even harder.

After about 6 miles I finally got out of the Leming line and had a little space to myself, by mile 12 I was mostly alone. (This combination of solitude and human experience is part of the reason these races are so wonderful) As always, my mental pedometer was counting down the miles based on precieved pace, and time. Unfortunately it was WAY off. When I was feeling at about 18 miles I was really at 14. So after the first 19 miles you cross the river and start up a 2-3000ft climb. Personally, I enjoy climbing and wasn't too worried. I was worried however about how terrible I felt at just 1/3 into the race. At times the pain was so bad, I would double over. Again, its difficult to explain by my lower abdomen felt like it had been in a paint shaker for the last 4 hours. (Really it had, I just didn't realize it). I started to fear the DNF next to my name as I pictured myself being unable to continue at mile 36 (the only place you could bail). Thanks again to the friend I was doing the event with I thought of what he said (At any point in the race, the way you feel isn't permanent, it will change) So I held on to the fact that this wouldn't last forever and just kept going. Slowly the pain softened (it could have been the large quantity of IB Profen) and by mile 36ish it was just a dull ringing in the ears.

The view was incredible and always changing. I still am amazed by how far 50m really is when experienced one step at a time. I can still recall beautiful images of the alpine evergreen forest, the class 5 rapids, to the 5.10 granite hand crack and later into the oak forest, the sage, and the aspen. An amazing experience to cover so much terrain in a day and see so many diverse plants and eco systems. Interestingly, you may wonder how you can stay focused this long, or doesn't the monotony drive you crazy? And the answer is absolutely not! Not once did I wish for my ipod, not even in the 12th hour. The mind was alive and engaged in the surroundings, keeping my feet safely under me, and balancing my nutrition and energy exertion. In fact I would have expected the mind to be dulled by the end of the race, but I felt just as alert and sharp at the end as I did in the beginning! Not to mention, in order to keep the machine running you need to be taking in water, electrolytes, carbs, proteins, a little fat... all in small manageable amounts at the right time so you don't overload the system. If your not doing something every 10-15 minutes, chances are your missing something. Maintaining this balance alone can be very difficult, especially after you stomach refuses to take another gel shot or drink of salty orange flavored water.

My success is due in part to the tricks of the trade shared with my by old man ultra. Had I not gotten these small tidbits, I wound not have finished this race. Thanks Old Man Ultra. Sorry for a lack of photos, but I wasn't about to carry a camera for it.

All in all I'd say this is definitely in the top ten life experiences I've had. Experiencing what the body and mind can do is eye opening. Had you asked me if I could complete this race 2 days before I would have told you no. Not only did I complete it, but I felt good, I finished with a good time, and had one of the better finishing splits. Success like this one is great for the confidence and the mental fortitude in preparation for even large events. I cant wait to see whats next!

Understand The Endurance Athlete

For anyone who actually reads this blog I appologize for being silent for so long. Thing have been happening, I've just been too busy to write about them. One of my expected upcoming blogs will be 'Wall Street is like Wendy's' sure to hopefully bring some smiles to your face. But for now in the short 10 minutes I have in between work I would like to send you to a fabulous blogger's site that shares a little bit about 'why' the endurance athlete IS. I hope this is as insightful for you as it was for me.

http://runtrails.blogspot.com/2010/05/why-do-endurance-sports-answer-wall-pit.html

Gropplanche!

It seems the skiing is starting to get pretty fierce out there these days and the motivation is getting thin. On Saturday I headed up solo to have a look at CoalPit #4 and all its glory. Turns out I'm not sure exactly how to get to it... no surprise. So I ski a fabulous coulair in the same region that hasn't seen tracks for a while. After skiing up sloppy wet snow (all good alpine starts have this right?) I notice a very unique snow surface up a head that I've never noticed before.



It has the look of a miniature river delta for lack of better words. Turns out its a gropplanche! How cool is that? Apparently so much gropple fell on Friday that it slide... but only in the way that gropple can slide... like sand or even a little like water creating a beautiful smooth, unconsolidated snow surface. A small note of interest is that snow, when in motion, does not take on the mechanical characteristics of water, but of something else entirely. I would spend more time on this subject but frankly I'm too tired after 3 nights of work. So skipping the explanation in between, this gropple avalanche was completely different than a normal one, it didn't slide the same way, it didn't settle the same way, and it sure didn't ski the same way. Once up into the slide path it looked more like the lower end of a glacier moving though a canyon on its way to the see. Totally cool... I guess if your a snow geek. Another analogy would be like one of those swimming pools full of plastic balls you remember as a kid? Same principle except steep and the balls are smaller...

The down side to this was that based on its complete lack of consolidation, you couldn't skin, and when booting you would sink to the bottom of the groppel and slide backwards on ball bearings. (a testament to why gropple is a bad bed surface) There was a small sun/temperature crust on top but was completely unsupportable. Just like in sand you would step down and the gropple would immediately fill in over your boot. I was trying to think what the best method for movement would be and skinning and booting where out, crampons- useless... What would one use? Maybe a paddle or flippers? Or one of those fancy Ordovox shovels that bends 90 degrees at the shovel http://en.ortovox.com/safety_products/shovels/cougar.html


The good news is that with enough weaving around you could usually find some old buried wet slab debris to walk on beneath the gropple. After a semi-successful boot the ski turned out to be pretty amusing. If you ever get the chance to ski on 36 inches of pure gropple--do it!

Oh and when you get to the Y and want to turn right, go left.

The Super Traverse

I've been itching to ski for a week now and I think my quads would explode if I sat around one more day... So I dragged the only willing ski partner up for a 600am meeting for the coalpit headwall... or whatever we decided to do. After of course sleeping in and being like seven minutes late we arrive at the trail head and I'm looking through my scattered gear and noticed that I had left my coat (the only one I planned to carry) at home... good start, and I didn't even think of bringing my helmet. The good news was that my ski partner was willing to share his super tech patagonia shell with me. Its a super light mountaineering shell, looks like a rain jacket its so thin... and uninsulated... But its March right? We will be putting on sun screen in a few hours! Wrong, it was snowing, blowing, my camelback froze, and my hands went numb several times in my Marmot gloves (being that I left my trusty extra patrol mitts home since it was spring). Anyway off we go in the dark. Some unknown time later we have crossed White Pine, Red Pine, Maybird, The Obolesque, and are at the bottom of Hogum drainage looking way up at the Hypodermic Needle.


One of my personal favorite features in the Wasatch, and the best part is its not a road side attraction, so not everyone has the gusto to make it. I was trying to figure out on my topo the actual vertical associated with the decent, or in our case the ascent. And it looks to me from the river bed to North Peak of Thunder Mountain to be over 2000ft, so we could estimate the total decent of the Hypodermic Needle including the runout to be about 2000ft. After you've done the boot pack, you would probably agree. We tried with all the meager skills we had to skin as far up as possible but due to the temperature crust with 2 inches of freshies on top it was very difficult, if not impossible. So we prematurely started to boot because it was easier... at least a little. If you could find a crust thick enough to not sink to your knee anyway.



I think there is some type of Omen associated with Thunder mountain because its always covered in clouds.. For example if you go to Ian Provo's blog in my watch list you'll see their decent of the Hypodermic, in the clouds. Two of my friends tried the Super Tour a few weeks ago but where stopped in there tracks by 0/o vis on the Thunder Mountain Pass.

Today was no exception, when we reached the top we could see very little and got a few glimpses here and there of our location and really none of our destination. So I jumped on the nearest ridge that I thought would lead us to one of the three chutes on the headwall... unfortunately it was Thunder Mountain Ridge, not so much CoalPit ridge. So we did a very sketchy traverse looking for an entry into CoalPit.

After we noticed the angle mellowing out we decided to pull out a map and a compass and quickly figured out we where no longer in Coal pit but in Thunder bowl, via Thunder Mountain.


The good news was that the easy angles of Thunder bowl skied the dust on crust much better than I think CoalPit would have. Not to mention we actually had a lot of fun in lower Thunder where it joins into Bells.

There is something special (and punishing) about skiing from 11000ft down to the end of the snow and then hiking down to the city. Not that I want to do it again tomorrow, but it gives you some feeling of accomplishment. So because of my lack of attention to detail and decision making based on the assumption of our location we got to ski what I think

I'm going to call the Super Traverse, after the Super Tour, but one step farther North than the North Super Tour. ll miles, 5000ft of climbing and 7000ft of decending. Lets see it on the next addition of the Skiing the Wasatch maps!

Clearly I'm not a Samurai

Well, I know this is a record number of posts for one day, but the wife is gone, and I'm home alone... so what the heck. Today I took on the task of heading up to Lone peak, or possible thunder bowl from the safest route, the South. So I got a good old alpine start and started skinning at 1000am for the 7000ft + day. Something you don't think about after a while of skinning in the cottonwoods is the pure joy of approaches in the real sense, not the 10 minute skin through the groomed 30 foot wide green run. The approach to Lone peak from the South is basically an old dirt road (actually clay) that starts in Alpine and just goes up, and up and up. After about the first 1000 yards the snow gets too deep and I throw on the skies (about another 7 lbs per foot) and start skinning through the breakable crust that we all love so much. It goes like this... take a step forward, weight the ski, then it breaks through 6 inches of snow which handily fall on top of your ski for you to carry up. On and the repeat for say...6500ft.

The good news is that there was a short section in the middle that some tracked-mobile had gone up so I didn't have to break trail for a 1/16th of a mile. In the summer we have had the hike to the Cirque in something like 3 hours, so I figured how long could it take? 4 maybe 5?

Wrong answer... 6 painful hours it took me one step at a time.... step, weight, sink, step weigh, sink. I had a quick lunch break just above the second hemagogue but that was really the only break I took... Moral of the story is, I think I need to ski more, and more big days--not just the 5 hour days.

Well, I did finally make it to Bear Tooth Canyon over look just shy of Lone Peak (about 400 ft shy that is) and got to look down to where I should have been if I wanted to ski thunder bowl. Next time, maybe I'll get close to my goal and climb a little more like a Samari, not so much like the wire rider.

Its a Mine Field Out There

Well, this one will be short since I'm on the way out the door for some sun crust. I didn't ski on Friday due to a 'Leadership Enhancement' Course that took from 7-3, but on reading about it, it was well... explosive? The major problem we are currently facing is buried surface hoar (otherwise known as frost) which creates a beautiful reflective surface on the snow caused by sublimation (I believe thats the one...) on the surface on cold, calm, clear nights. It seems to me that you see this more commonly in Lambs and Mill Creek, but still fairly uncommon in the Wasatch. The problem is that it doesn't uniformly grow, so you end up with pockets of seriously unstable snow. From this mornings forecast:

"As forecast, yesterday was an extremely wild day. I think it set a record for the number of human triggered avalanches rep

orted to us in one day. Here is the list:

21 significant, human triggered avalanches in the backcountry

9 unintentionally triggered

7 people caught

4 partial burials including one with just his hand sticking out"

(http://utahavalanchecenter.org/advisory/slc)

Depth Hoar is not a common problem in the Wasatch because our temperatures are more moderate than you would see in an continental snow pack (like the rockies) and so we tend to be not so good at dealing with it, as the above statistics would dictate. I would say our most common snow tests are different compression tests, like the extended column test, but unfortunately they don't really work because they only tell you the conditions of the localized are that you are testing. The slope 10 feet away could have a aspect change of 10 degrees and have a completely different level of stability. So in lies the problem. Finding an accurate 'test slope' is tricky, if not impossible.

On Thursday I was out in Days/Davenport Ridge doing some death crust skiing and ventured into the North aspect of Days do a quick extended column test and the results were, well.... terrifying? The test slope I used was 38 degrees about 98ooft on a directly North aspect. On entering the test slope some things come clearly into view as I see lightnng cracks shoot out in front of me through the snow, a sure sign of propagation. Also before of the was up on about a 26 degree slope the entire new soft slab settled... a difficult experience to explain but it sounds something like an empty dumpster being dropped from 4 feet in the air. Very disturbing. Already by the time I started doing my test I was pretty certain what the results would be. Once I had completed my construction I did the test... three taps on the shovel from the wrist.... 1 tap from the elbow and like a breaking rubber band, the whole column released on a perfectly clean sheet of depth hoar. No deformation, or residual consolidation what so ever. Its difficult to explain how unstable AND unpredictable this snow pack is at the moment, but as I was tip-toeing back to my car with fear and trembling the analogy o the mine field came to mind. Our North aspect slopes are really like mine fields... the mines are where the surface hoar is buried. So if you lucky, you could ski that 38 degree slope and never hit a mine... like the 2 tracks I observed on the NNW aspect off the top of Davenport Hill. But just as likely is hitting 20 mines as you go down and releasing all 18 inches of new snow.... on the entire slope--enough to cause serious injury or death.

I'm not a professional, and I clearly don't work for the Utah avalanche center, but I am interested in the difference between the considerable rating and the high rating as I would be inclined to place a high rating on our Northerly aspect slopes greater than 35 degrees (and a considerable on greater than 30) in the common surface hoar zones which it seems they have determined to be mostly between 8-10,000ft. This task, I might add, of determining what altitudes and aspects the surface hoar is at is very, very difficult. Many pitts need to be dug, local knowledge needs to be applied based on previous years experience, and maybe some magical upper level meteorological skills.

So if

you are going off in the BC today maybe stay off, or out from below, anything Northerly greater than about 30 degrees: its a mine filed out there.

"Children: are your parents making wise choices in the backcountry?"

I must say I got a chuckle out of this line from Brett at the Avalanche center this morning. But it seems that some time someone is going to have to ski those lines right? Well, its probably not going to be me! There is always someone younger and braver right? (This isn't an encouragement to go ski steep North aspects lines)

So I know most people haven't been enjoying the lack of snow, but I have really been appreciating it recently. The last two days I spend skiing some new lines (for me) that have a certain aesthetic appeal, as apposed to well... the normal Utah draw. First was little pine @ 3300ft straight up out of the car and then directissmo, 3200ft although not right out of the car... Both are steep south facing lines that have tight couloirs, big slide paths, and no fall zones. Tomorrow I'm thinking Tanners would add up nicely. (so that means you can't go there unless I've invited you)

One of the fun extra exciting things about directissmo is that you start in a large gully that cliffs out in every location but one. So you can't really ski off any where you want, you need to follow the exact route which neither of us had skied before, but we did see some of it from the road. So when we crest superior we go into a cloud back with very little visibility. I know the ridge we follow so we start off down the catwalk hoping for the clouds to raise but they don't. So I have no visual aids, I left the compose in my other ski pants, and I've never skied the route before. So what do you do with a single point exit or fall to your death? Jump in of course! So off we go very, very carefully down into the gully in search for the directissmo chute. Once we get a little lower we start to see the slope roling over to what we assume is the rock face. After tipptoeing around we find the entrance, unfortunately we are a little low and have to 'huck' the 3 foot cornice into the chute. With much pain and suffering I finallly commit and it turns out to be easy, and most importantly a safe, rock hard snow pack.

Up until this point we didn't shoot any photo's or video because the focus and tension was high, so all of your shots will be below the entry to directissmo. Enjoy! Oh and in case you wanted to go there, the skiing could be described as either breakable death crust or cement that spilled out of a cement truck on the freeway.