Got screamed at by a dog-walker when minding my own business, just wanting some space between me and her 13, unleashed, free-range canines. It wasn’t a problem until three of those dogs bolted for me from 150 feet away, one snarling, the other two sticking their noses into my privates, and, in the time those three dogs covered the distance, the owner never uttered any direction to her dogs, such as, “Stop Fido!” or "Heel Rover!!” Not even the usual, “Don’t mind Spot’s nashing teeth, he wouldn’t hurt a fly!" So, when I showed total lack of pleasure upon getting a wet, canine nose thrust up my ass, admittedly in absolutely unrepeatable, harsh terms, that dog owner went hysterical. She screamed and called me names, like any 13-year-old school-boy would: incoherent, crass and stupid, only she wasn’t a 13-year-old boy, rather, a 30-something-girl-BMW-driver. So really not much difference. I pretty much lowered myself to her low, bitchy, privileged level with my own juvenile verbiage, but when all was said and done, and once my anger had cooled, I was embarrassed and regretted my side of a stupid fight. If I’d kept my mouth shut nothing would have happened. Yes, I would have grumbled all day and my resentment for the bad dog-owners in a primarily good group would ferment and grow, but that would only involve me. As long as I bury it there are no casualties in my wake.
Once I’d come back to reality and with my guilt fading, I started to feel flattered by her name calling. I haven't been called a “F*cking P*ssy,” (five times no less) since 1975, as an Eighth Grader at Millcreek Junior High. Big score for this fat, bald accountant, it took me back to my youth.
The south rim of North Canyon, still trying to clear my head here after being accosted, by dogs and and their angry owner.
Snow-stake, half out after a short-lived, thin winter snowpack.
Rudy's Flat under 98cm (38.5in) of snow.
Like my Dad I can’t stop photographing dead trees. I swear, their souls speak.
I had huge skin issues today. They got wet at lower, warmer elevations, and when I got higher and into colder, drier snow, they glopped (snow sticking to skins) and I have never seen terrible glopping such as this in my life. Snow was sticking six inches thick the full length of both skis. When using skin wax a quick stomp will free the snow but today that didn’t work. The snow was welded to my skins.
Up until now I’ve never been impressed with skin waxes like Black Diamond Glop Stopper, it never seems to work as claimed. At its best, after rubbing a full block into one pair of skins, with the big temperature variations that come in the spring, it barely works. Glops of snow still form under foot, so today I didn’t use any. Why use something that is pricey and continually fails? Big mistake. Today with no Glop Stopper the problem was the worst ever. Over the years I’ve tried everything to stop snow sticking to skins: melted race wax, Pam kitchen spray, WD40, Crisco, Lard, and even White Lithium Grease, the spray on version, which was one of the stupidest experiments I’ve dreamed up. The white lithium didn’t work, all it did was stink up my skins, my pack and everything I put in that pack. For two winters I stunk like rancid petroleum. My friends joked, “Don’t light a joint or cigarette within 20 feet of Owen." I don’t smoke, tobacco or dope, so the problem was just aesthetic.
I finally took off my skis, scrapped the snow off my skins using the trunk of a Gamble Oak, tried squeegee’ing the water from the skins with the thick of my hands (they were dripping), then hung them in the sun to dry while I searched my pack for an alternative to Glop Stopper. I found both sunscreen and Pro Bar Organic Chocolate Peanut Butter Blend. I almost went with the sunscreen but it stunk just a bit like white lithium grease and the peanut butter smelt delicious so, based only on the smell, I went with the chocolate peanut butter. I rubbed it in, one pack per ski, washed my hands in the snow, stepped into my skis and started skinning, and it worked! Nothing stuck to my skins for the rest of the day. And my skins still smell wonderful, like chocolate/peanut-butter nosh.
I now get hungry when catching a whiff of my skins. Bring on the whole milk, Nutella and Wonder Bread.
Food? . . . or Glop Stopper? It tastes pretty damn good but in a pinch it also makes great Glop Stopper.
Squeeze onto skins directly from the tube . . .
. . . then just rub it in, . .
. . . your hands are messy but afterward they smell 'delicieux odirifiique exquis.' I couldn’t bring myself to lick off the excess knowing all the human urine and dog-shit I’ve skinned through over the years. For the next three days my hands were silky and smooth, like a puppy-dog's belly, before it gets a bitchy owner.
The hill where I put up the skinner topped out at around 35 degrees. Bullseye-steep for sliding snow but safe today.
Jonah’s, site of one of the best powder runs of my life, named for my nephew who joined me that day.
Dead trees over City Creek Canyon.
While short and maybe not worth the effort, I couldn’t resist and put some turns down one of my old favorites: Tele/Face-plant Hill. Way back, when I was on 62mm X 205cm skis, three-pin bindings and soft, leather boots, this hill was where I’d practice and practice and practice. Once I could link turns here down the full vertical, it was time for bigger stuff. Skiing on that old gear was tough but incredibly rewarding. In comparison, today's alpine-touring rigs are so refined the challenge is gone along with some of the joy. The ease of use is a big reason why there are now so many skiers in the back-country, all cranking corkscrew-720-mute-grabs off every rock and tree stump, but none have my respect like old tele-skiers.
The primitive equipment available up through the early 2000s was an exacting, barrier to entry. Most skiers didn’t have the talent nor the patience. 'One and done' for BC skiing was common. It was easy to buy barely used gear at a sharp discount for the steep learning curve that was often abandoned. Most of today’s back-country skiers wouldn’t be back-country skiers if they had to learn on that skinny, limp, sloppy gear. Some of us like pain, we couldn’t stop.
Enough said on this one.
Trees, snow, clouds and sun, always much more striking in real life rather than in a photo, reminder to get up and go, get away from the computer.
Mueller trail melting off quickly near MP 5.
Too wet but I can’t resist skiing the Rectangle.
Look hard and there are my turns and skinner up Tele Hill.
Chocolate on skins? Great idea! I'll have to remember that. Skin glob-free and smell good doing it!
I had glob problems too this Spring, and I'm thinking I'll cut one of my old skins to fit my newer skis, then skin up with the old skins through wet snow until I reach the dry snow, then just swap one pair of skins for the other. It is more to carry, but maybe not too much more, and skins don't weigh that much. I've been thinking that the trick is to be sure that no more wet snow is to be encountered once you decide to make the switch from one pair of skins to another.
John also showed me that you can dry your skins in the sun, if the sun is strong enough. I thought that was a neat trick.
Chocolate on skins? Great idea! I'll have to remember that. Skin glob-free and smell good doing it!
ReplyDeleteI had glob problems too this Spring, and I'm thinking I'll cut one of my old skins to fit my newer skis, then skin up with the old skins through wet snow until I reach the dry snow, then just swap one pair of skins for the other. It is more to carry, but maybe not too much more, and skins don't weigh that much. I've been thinking that the trick is to be sure that no more wet snow is to be encountered once you decide to make the switch from one pair of skins to another.
John also showed me that you can dry your skins in the sun, if the sun is strong enough. I thought that was a neat trick.