Backcountry Crowded? Skiing or Hooking?

When I was a teenager in the mid-1970's, the kids dragged main street every Friday and Saturday night. It had nothing to do with actual drag-racing, rather, it had everything to do with socializing and picking up chicks. Is backcountry skiing in 2019 more about the social event than real skiing?

I have been accused of being territorial of my home hill and admittedly I have said too much. I regret any hard feeling I may have caused because nothing is worth losing a friend, especially differences in politics, religion and yes, even BC skiing. That said, my home hill is small and short and can get tracked out very quickly. Face it, a group of six skiers can make mince-meat of Rectangle Bowl in less than 20 minutes. In comparison, if I was skiing it alone it would take me half a day to put down those same six sets of tracks. 

Backcountry skiing of 2019-2020 reminds me of of my high school days when socializing was veiled by big, loud cars, belching stinky, blue smoke. Apparently I am not alone in this thought. Check out the article below from Issue #129 (November 2019) of Backcountry Magazine. It makes goods points about going in small groups, going wide and even going to the unpopular, manky destination to find solitude. If nothing else, be nice, be respectful and let the first person or group take that bowl or that line. Don't start skinning below someone else. It's discourteous and unsafe to expect someone high up on the ridge above you to sit there and wait while you ascend (poach) their skin track. 

If any of these words make you think "that's impossible," perhaps it is proof that you need to go longer and farther to find the soul of skiing. Don't get pissed by my words! We all want the same thing but some of us are haunted by memories of a simpler time. I'm good for my word. I've spent decades deferring to those who got their first, both dragging Main Street or skiing Rectangle Bowl.    

Durango-Silverton, September 21 through 23, 2019. Family Vacation, Train, Heart Attack?

Family vacation, a near heart attack, an ambulance ride, three days in the ICU, then riding mountain bikes in the San Juan Mountains (see Telluride post). Sounds so dramatic, but it all happened.

September 21, 2019, riding the Durango to Silverton on the coal-fired steam engine with the whole family, and I have to say, I love my grandkids more than my real kids. No offense kids, but the Grands are PERFECT!

 

So a great time riding the train to Silverton with my Grandbabies . . . . .and then the wheels fell off.

On the train ride from Durango to Silverton Kara got terrible motion sickness from the combination of the coal smoke and cinders and the pronounced rocking due to the narrow-gauge of the train. The rocking was greater perhaps because our car was second in line on the train. It all lead to Kara getting severe nausea and vomiting to the point she was so dehydrated she couldn't stand once we arrived in Silverton. She was dry-heaving nothing but blood, which we learned later (from an endoscopy down her throat) was due to a tear in her Esophagus, so the EMT's in Silverton 'ambulanced' her to Mercy Faith Hospital in Durango. She got the slow ride up and the quick ride back. While in the ambulance she continued to throw up blood and she then started having severe pain in her chest. At the hospital she was given Nitro Glycerin which immediately stopped the pain. Within seconds of taking th eNitro the pain simply vanished. Hmmmmm, good for the pain but not a good sign for the heart. Over the next three days (in the ICU) she was tested repeatedly for a heart attack and everything came back positive: elevated Troponin (enzyme in blood stream indicating stress on the heart), irregular EKG, low blood pressure (80/50), irregular nuclear stress test and low O2 levels.  So, on Monday they did the last possible treatment which was a heart catheter through her wrist to find the presumed blockage and place a stent or multiple stents to open those presumed blockages. Once in her heart the Cardiologist found no blockages. In fact, he said her heart was wide and clear and no stents were necessary. He was puzzled why the previous five tests all indicated a heart attack when everything was clear, but speculated that the severe vomiting, dehydration and the high altitude all combined to stress her heart which mimicked a heart attack. 

Instead of photos of Kara in the hospital (and risking my life by posting hospital photos), here are some views of Mercy Faith Hospital in Durango:

OK, one photo of K . . .

Kara had SEVEN sticks. Most were unsuccessful attempts at placing IVs, which were very difficult to due to her sever dehydration.

I'm a dead man for posting this . . . 

No blockages so she was free to go (after three days) and she didn't even need a wheel chair. 

 . . . . then on to Telluride to recuperate (Kara) and ride mountain bikes (me):

Telluride, September 23 through 27, 2019

We drove from Durango's Mercy Hospital the 'direct' way to Telluride to avoid the windy (curvy not breezy), circuitous road over Red Mountain Pass to Telluride. I was disappointed that we had to drive the 'boring' way over Lizard Head Pass, but what surprise! The Lizard Head route is just as beautiful and in some ways better than Red Mountain pass. The scenery is stunning and it is much less traveled. We rarely saw another car from Dolores over to Telluride. The towns of Dolores and Rico were real surprises - in a good way. Beautiful mountain towns, low key, no traffic and a relaxed, chill atmosphere, and the San Juan Mountain back-drop leaves one staring with mouth agape, wondering why the mountains of Utah seem so simple and squirrley in comparison? Anyway, the "direct" way was stunning! 

I could live in Dolores, Rico or Ophir. Telluride is beautiful but I have to admit it is a total fantasy world: billionaires and ski bums with no middle class. How the hell could I even begin to live there when a 1,500 Square foot home goes for over $1million? Like I said, total fantasy world.

Had to add my grand kids, Lydia and Mark on a mine tour in Silverton.

The view from our condo in Telluride, which was located at the base of the Meadows Chondola (who named this?). The Telluride Mountain Village is a total rat's-nest of trophy-homes, condos and hotels. It took four days of walking, hiking and biking before I really figured out where the base of the real skiing started. I'm just not a fan of the Deer Valley/Canyon's business model, where homes are built up the mountain among the ski runs to give the billionaires skin-in, ski-out access. Huge mcmansions along a ski run totally destroys the ambiance of a ski hill. It's a back-ward leap from that feeling you get of  getting away from civilization. Remember the first time you rode the tram at Snowbird as a kid in a total white-out blizzard and you felt like you were on the mountains of Antarctica? I loved the feeling of being on the edge of the world. That feeling is gone when you're skiing next to a road with BMWs and Audis whizzing passing you by. (Side-note: its fun to "spay" those BMWs and Audis when skiing over the ski-bridges at the Park City or Deer Valley. Try it! It's fun to piss-off those dime-store cowboys who are much better are laundering money than actually skiing. And what are they going to do? Get out and chase you down?). Yeah, I get it, real estate makes huge profits. Ski passes don't. And, yeah, Telluride is known as a bad-ass mountain, but just think how much more bad-ass it would be if you didn't have to ride three or four lifts to get to the good stuff?

Kara feeling much better and looking great. That is Wilson Peak (aka Coors Peak) over her shoulder.

Downtown Telluride.

Kara at the base of Bridal Veil falls. She's the only one I know that looks better than a 365 foot waterfall. Less than 24-hours ago she was undergoing a heart-catheter through her wrist to find the blockage and get a stent. Luckily there were no blocks and no stents were necessary. No, we didn't hike up here, we drove the 4X4 switchback road up from Telluride, about 2 miles and 1000 vertical on the 4X4 track. 

Our condo at dusk as I'm riding the Jurassic and Boomerang Trails.

Palmyra Peak, in bounds at Telluride.

Sign at the base of the Boomerang Trail, about 1,000 feet descent from our condo, and from here I had pedal back up, which was tough at 9,000 feet.

Action-Dudes everywhere.

Sunset over Wilson Peak as I get back to the top of the Boomerang Trail. I made it back with barely enough light.

Wilson Peak

The next day I went looking for the Prospect trail that lead to the ghost town of Alta Lakes. The ride was in-your-face-steep climbing from the start, at our condo at 9,500 feet (via the Jurassic Trail, through the base area hotel/condos rat's-nest then onto the Prospect Trail leaving the pavement over by the gondola parking terrace). The Prospect Trail wasn't marked very well at the huge parking structure, but I found it and started pedaling up. At the junction of Teddy's Way and Double Cabin (ski runs) the trail was closed due to helicopter logging so I had to turn back at about 10,500 feet. To be honest, I was totally gassed by that point, so I wasn't completely disappointed to turn back. Later I wished I could've made it to Alta Lakes but that has to wait for another day. During all my rides in Telluride I felt like crap and upon our return to SLC I felt like Superman. I'm sticking with the high elevation excuse.   

Near the upper terminal of the Sunshine Express ski lift. Our condo is at the base of this lift, about 1,700 vertical feet below.

Sunshine Express upper face, a double black diamond ski run called Holy Cow!

Most of the mountain bike trails at Telluride are downhill trails only, but no-way was I going shell out $$'s to buy a pass just to ride my mountain bike. Ultimately I started riding up those 'down-hill' only trails because I never saw anyone riding down the resort trails. Plus they were totally eroded starting 1/8th mile above the resort base, indicating they see no downhill traffic.   

Palmyra Peak

On the way to Ophir, which is the ghost town in the next drainage and one ridge SW of Telluride. I loved Ophir. It's not a tourist/billionaire/ski-bum town.

The canyon leading to Ophir was lined with avalanche paths which looked huge, 3,000-4,000 vertical foot lines at 35-40 degrees sustained top to bottom. From the look of the avalanche debris all along the canyon bottom, and the paths that looked as if they were cut for ski runs, the road to Ophir must get blocked by slides numerous times during the winter.

The Ophir cut (mining road), which leads over to Red Mountain pass and the Million Dollar Highway.

And the cut leading over to Telluride.

Haunted ghost towns. This is an old mine mill building at the junction of the Ophir Road and the Lizard Head Pass Highway, about five miles from the turn-off to Telluride's Mountain Village.

Overlook info on the way back from Ophir.

Last day in Telluride, I rode the Jurassic, Boomerang and Big Billie's mountain bike trails. If you go, Jurassic and Boomerang are great but Big Billie's is nothing more than a graveled golf cart path, scenic but very boring, but it appeals to the billionare, 'Thurston-Howell-the-Third' mind-set of the locals occupying the Mountain Village. 

Palmyra Peak.

Riding the free gondola down into Telluride from the Mountain Village.

I've never seen bigger or taller aspens that in the San Juan Mountains.

Telluride may be out of my economic league, but it is surrounded by the most beautiful mountains within a days drive of Utah. In comparison, the Wasatch are small and way too crowded.