All I Could

Last night I saw the ski porn flick "All I Can." I gotta admit, ski porn flicks leave me cold. They seem so much the same: endless shots of gnarly dudes with rad hairstyles skiing steep lines to some ghetto blasting music. Truthfully, I can't say I found All I Can any less tedious to sit through than the last ski porn flick I saw, and that was about as tedious as watching the snow melt in my yard.

The movie was, however, significantly more vacuous. These ski porn dudes should never be encouraged to open their mouths. Yes, they can ski, but as for coherent, well reasoned thoughts on complex subjects - such as climate change - these dudes prove that their last grey cells were long since blown away by their last dope hit.

A review in Powder Magazine says the flick "unites us all, young and old, to acknowledge hypocrisies and negativity and to engender positive change. ...All.I.Can. shifts the paradigm, leaving viewers encouraged and united on a communal front." Yeah, right. The idea that a bunch of half-stoned dudes who fly all over the world in jets and helicopters, drive powerful gas guzzling sleds into the mountains, and can barely string three coherent words together are somehow going to launch an environmental movement is risible.

Real change happens when real people make real sacrifice.

Get real, dude. 

A bunch of real people doing real work

 that will benefit other real people, no personal gain

There's Always Tomorrow

Be miserable. Or motivate yourself. Whatever has to be done, it's always your choice. Wayne Dyer.

Motivation, I'm sadly lacking in it right now. It's been a wet day, a wet week, a wet month. In March, you expect longer sunnier days and the possibility of doing bigger, longer ski trips. But, all we have had for March is storm following storm following storm. There have been a few, scattered marginally better weather days - notice I didn't say sunny - but, these last at most 24 hours and follow a big storm cycle, so bigger, longer tours are stymied by heavy trail-breaking and poor stability.

Right now, it is pissing down, as it has been doing most of the day, most of the week, and, yes, most of the month. I haven't skied since Saturday. Given that I am perfectly healthy, this is almost unknown phenomena. Each morning I get up and think, "today I'll go for a tour." I look out the window, see the tenebrous clouds lying low over the hills, listen to the rain pounding on the roof, the wind rocking the trees, and think, "well, maybe tomorrow will be better."

A short stroll around Grohman Narrows is all I managed today.

Shortest Time Possible, Period.

A few of my friends are off on the Wapta Traverse in the next little while in two separate groups. One group, disappointingly for them, lost 50% of their group prior to the trip, going from a party of six to a party of three. The other party gained a member. One persons loss IS another persons gain, I guess.

I thought about going along, although I have done the Wapta Traverse, it was many years ago. The cost, among other issues, however, turned out to be prohibitive. My friends are taking six days to ski the Wapta, spending five nights in the huts, and another two nights at the Lake Louise Hostel. At around $45 for each night, accommodation alone adds to over $300. Then there is the Parks Canada vehicle pass, the inevitable meals out, gas, and soon, the tab will be over $400. I've spent less than that on backcountry lodge weeks with helicopter access.

Could take a tent, I thought, but my pack would be awfully heavy with six days of food, a tent, stove, sleeping bag, sleeping pad etc. My limit for load carrying on ski trips is eight days, but that is shared with another person. I'm not sure I could fit gear and food for six days in my pack, and I'm damned sure, I don't want to carry that load.

Of course, were they doing the trip in a reasonable time frame - three days is perfectly adequate for doing the full Wapta Traverse - and even allows lots of time for peak bagging, I might have felt differently. I could carry a three day pack with all the gear with no problem. But, doubling that time frame, moves the trip from a pleasant easy three day weekend, to a long, tedious grind with a pack that is far heavier than it needs to be, and a party that moves commensurately slower than they need to move.

The entire Wapta Traverse from Peyto Lake to Sherbrooke Lake is only 40 km and 1500 metres of elevation gain - it's been done numerous times in a day - and, all those years ago, it was a relaxing three day trip. After all, you don't carry any camping gear, so your pack is only modestly heavier than a standard daypack. Why anyone wants to (almost) literally crawl across it taking twice as long as necessary is inexplicable to me. Unless the purpose IS to expose yourself to a greater chance of bad weather or bad conditions, I can't see any logic in it.

Perhaps it's the old mountaineering philosophy scratched onto my soul after so many years, get up early, get out there, get it done, get back, shortest time possible, period.

On the Whitewater to Proctor Traverse:

Twice as far done in half the time

Life In The New Millenium: A Message From The Dalai Lama

Yesterday, preparatory to moving, I was doing some rather tedious cleaning of the house, and came across an old newspaper clipping stuck to the side of the fridge.  I've reproduced it below:

1. Take into account that great love and great achievement involve great risk.
2. When you lose, don't lose the lesson.
3. Follow the three R's: respect for self, respect for others, responsibility for all your actions.
4. Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.
5. Learn the rules so you know how to break them properly.
6. Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.
7. When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.
8. Spend some time alone every day.
9. Open your arms to change but don't let go of your values.
10. Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
11. Live a good, honorable life. Then when you older and think back, you'll be able to enjoy it a second time.
12. A loving atmosphere in your home is the foundation for your life.
13. In disagreements with loved ones, deal only with the current situation. Don't bring up the past.
14. Share your knowledge. It's a way to achieve immortality.
15. Be gentle with the earth.
16. Once a year, go somewhere you've never been before.
17. Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other.
18. Judge your success by what you had to give in order to get it.
19. Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon. 
    
    
    
    Spring Mountain Sunset, Oregon
    
    

When Deciding Is Difficult

The hardest thing to learn in life is which bridge to cross and which to burn.  David Russell

Last night I read this piece by Will Gadd on decision making in the mountains. The idea is simple, evocative and, I suspect, sound. It brought back to me many days when we've stood about the top of an avalanche slope having long discussions about whether or not to continue, how to minimize risk, what the odds of an avalanche are, where the escape zone is, and, a host of other variables, that as Gadd succinctly summarizes are "likely to (sic) complicated to make a good decision on".

The last time this happened was during our week at Kokanee. We had 120 cm of snow over the last days of the week accompanied by rising, then falling freezing levels, strong to extreme winds, and a buried surface hoar layer of unknown distribution. We saw a reasonable number of natural avalanches, but, overall, the extent of natural avalanching was far less than we expected. Snow pit tests were highly variable, and some small slopes were running while larger slopes were not. The data was confusing and did not fit into any of our previous schema.

In the face of this uncertainty, we played it safe. Skied short, low angle, safe lines in the trees and avoided overhead exposure. We recognized that conditions were such that good decision making was difficult, so the best thing to do was avoid avalanche terrain altogether. The week ended with no involvements.

But, I left wondering if things were as uncertain as we perceived them. Could we have skied the bigger lines without involvement? Or, did we avoid involvement due to astute decision making? Is good decision making recognizing when the data is too overwhelming, too complex, too contradictory to allow good decision making? If you believe Gadd's thesis, the latter is true.

If you'd asked me these questions in the week following Kokanee, I would have said we were just timid wimps. A month or more later, wiser for reading this article, I now think we were astute enough to realize when a good decision was beyond our knowledge and experience, and that the best decision involved zero exposure.

Not the place to stand about wondering what to do

The Novelty Is The Thing

I've been running a series of ski tours for my local mountaineering club called the "Simply Suffering Summits and Traverses Series." The title is meant to imply that the tours are longer than the normal tours offered on our club schedule, and will involve either a ski ascent of a local peak(s) or a traverse (or both). So far, I've run six of these tours. All, with the exception of one, have been full. However, full is limited to six people including myself. With that number in mind, the concept of the trip being full becomes less significant, especially as at least half of the tours have featured the same group of people. Each of the six tours has gone to a destination that, to my knowledge, has not been on our club schedule in at least the past ten years, and possibly never. In other words, they are new tours to new destinations.

This coming weekend, there is a ski tour to Old Glory on the schedule. Old Glory is the highest peak in the Rossland Range, has a well-beaten summer trail to the summit, and is on the club schedule at least twice per year, once in spring as a ski tour, and once in summer as a hike. In many years, there will be multiple trips scheduled up Old Glory during the calendar year.

Within three hours of the announcement of the Old Glory tour, the trip coordinator had 14 people interested! That number is more than the unique number of individuals I have had on all six of my Summits and Traverses Series Tours combined.

Trip difficulty could explain some of the stark difference in interest in the two tours. A reasonably fit party can ski to the summit of Old Glory in 3 hours and ski back to the vehicles in 1 to 1.5 hours, making the tour truly a half day option. Using my last tour, a ski ascent of Mount Lasca, as an example, we took five hours to reach the summit and two hours to exit, and were out for 8 hours total.

Similarly, some of the difference may be explained by "reputation". It's hard to know what people think about you or say about you, unless you actively engage in some kind of covert CIA type spying, but it does seem possible, if what I occasionally hear circulating is true, that I have a reputation for hard tours, early starts, long days, and fast travel. Or, it could be the meeting time that puts people off. The average meeting time for most club trips is somewhere between 8 and 9 a.m., while I routinely meet between 6 and 7 a.m. A prospect that may be daunting for some, but which I believe improves safety margins.

But, I have to wonder if some, or even most, of the difference in interest comes down to novelty. People seem to prefer what they know. Day after day, week after week, month after month, well, you get the picture, people will do the same trip over and over and over and, well, you get the picture again. I've known some people to go up and down the same peak a dozen times, yet never even consider setting foot on the adjacent peak, despite the ascent being no more technically or physically difficult and lying a mere 200 to 500 metres away.

I don't understand it myself. Personally, I'll endure all kinds of bad bush, long logging road approaches, tedious driving, ghastly trail-breaking and heinous descents, if, at the end of the day, I go somewhere new to me.

Henry David Thoreau said it best: "There is an incessant influx of novelty in the world and yet we tolerate incredible dullness."

On a 7.300 foot outlier of Cody Peak.  A terrible thrash to get here, followed by a ghastly descent, but we were someplace new.

Competent Groups, Competent Leaders

This year, for my local mountaineering club, I've been running a series of ski tours that I called "The Simply Suffering Summits and Traverses Series." The name may seem somewhat pretentious, as these tours, while harder/longer/more committing than regular club trips, are not particularly difficult in the overall scheme of things.  However, another club member was running a "Simply Decadent Series" (easy ski tours to local cabins with goodies provided), so the Simply Suffering Series seemed a good counterbalance.

Yesterday was my sixth tour in the series and we skied up Mount Lasca, a peak which, although only 20 km in a straight line from Nelson, manages to feel a long way from anywhere. Our route was made possible by a new logging road that is plowed to 1400 metres, and we did the return trip in about 8 hours (including a number of breaks).

Acting as trip leader for a club can be a stressful experience. People ill-equipped for the proposed trip, in terms of fitness, skill, experience, or all three, frequently want to sign up. Working out whether or not they are as good as they inevitably claim to be is difficult, and, if you end up with a very mixed group - half strong, half weak - group management becomes increasingly difficult, often to the point of consuming your entire mental energy. Many times, you'll end up with a group that is physically capable, but whose basic mountain skills, particularly in terms of navigation, route-finding and stability assessment, is weak. In those instances, the entire responsibility for the trip can weigh heavily on a volunteer trip leader, and making every decision throughout the day without support can become mentally fatiguing.

Yesterday I had a great group, as is becoming increasingly common with this tour series (reputation perhaps?). Everyone was physically and technically capable and, we were truly able to make decisions as a group. A rare instance on a club trip. I found the tour much more enjoyable when I could share decision making and route-finding with competent individuals, and not worry whether someone was going to tire themselves to the point of exhaustion or not be able to ascend/descend a certain slope in a reasonable time frame.

Like all clubs, ours struggles to find competent leaders. Yesterday, I started to wonder if competent leaders are perhaps a function of competent groups. Leadership is much less onerous when the entire party is capable. Too bad such a cohesive group is such a rarity.

Our group on Mount Lasca