The Dirtbag Adventures: Episode 11 - The Winter Stoker!
Read all of the Dirtbag Adventures!
I lay in my sleeping bag in the bed of my truck and pretended to sleep. I’m tired and sore from skiing the steep upper bowl at SkiBowl just a few hours before, and I know I need to rest if I want to feel good touring in the morning. Like counting sheep, I counted the long, rhythmic strides I’ll be taking in the morning as I skin uphill., I hope the cyclical thought will soothe me to sleep. No luck.
The back of my old Ford Ranger built out for winter camping last year. The MSR water reservoir on the tailgate was frozen solid.
...
I didn’t grow up skiing. No ski bus, no high school team, no parents following me down the groomers on a leash. I skied for the first time with friends about five years ago, but it didn’t really take until last season. I saved up and bought some boots and bindings, got a pair of beater skis from my friend Phil who helped me mount them (it was their fourth mount), and watched a lot of YouTube videos. And I fell, a lot.
I fell so much I was inappropriate. I’m a 190-lb. grown man with a beard and I crashed into a 12-year-old coming off the lift one day. (The little punk was fine). I’ve hit rocks, trees, buildings, my fiancé, and my own feet. I’ve given up and walked down slopes on multiple occasions. But I kept going. As embarrassing and sometimes painful as it was to thrash around in the resort, I kept going. I had a vision in my mind of ski mountaineering - using skis to quickly and efficiently access remote aspects of the mountains, and whistling down snowy slopes that I’d previously hiked down. Some skiers are compelled by fresh powder, and I certainly see the allure, but for me, it was the image of going somewhere high and wild that kept me pushing myself.
…
I turn over in my sleeping bag - quite the project when you’re wearing socks, fleece pants and a large puffy jacket inside an already snug Marmot Helium 15-degree bag. After finding a comfy position I realize the foot of my bag is squished up against the tailgate of the truck, allowing the cold metal to suck the heat right out of my already chilly feet. I inch-worm on my side until I find just the right angle so my 6’2” frame can sleep in the 6’ truck bed without touching anything.
I try counting strides again. 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - left - right - left - right. Just as I start to doze off a snow plow pulls into the parking lot. I tell myself the roar of its engine is the sound of wind blowing past as I’m linking turns above the tree line, but imagination turns the noise into an avalanche breaking free under my skis. I give up on sleep.
Next Adventure Ski Lead Tyler Thomaselli showed me the ropes in the backcounty last season.
...
As soon as I started skiing, I also started learning the basics of backcountry. I studied snowpack and avalanche assessment, practiced with my beacon, probe, and shovel, and I pestered everyone I knew who skied out of bounds. “Will you go with me?” “Can I come with you?” “Do you think your friends would let me ski with them if I just showed up at the trailhead and acted real lonely?” And in very stable conditions, in busy areas, I went by myself.
After a while, it started to come together. I would regularly buy a night pass at SkiBowl and ride for a few hours, sleep in my truck, then skin up Palmer the next morning before Timberline opened and ski back down. Even as a novice skier with a little mountaineering experience, I was able to ski thousands of vertical feet in a weekend - in relative solitude - and with limited risk. And if there was anything left in my legs, I would go hit SkiBowl again, but most weekends I would just wander into Charlie’s for a beer.
…
I crawl out of the bag, throw on my ski pants, a warm hat, and a cozy pair of Bog’s insulated boots before crawling out of the back of the truck canopy. The air is freezing but still, and the sky is unbelievably clear. Even with a ¾ moon and the headlights from a snow plow spinning around, it’s still easy to make out the milky way and the thousands and thousands of stars. According to my phone, it’s only 10:30, so I crack a beer and sit on the tailgate, staring up at the same mountain I’ve seen my whole life, but seeing it in a whole different way. I’m tired, restless, and excited all at the same time.
Left, Right, Left, Right… My boots pushing an awesome pair of ON3P Steeples early last season. I was able to get these sweet skis out of Next Adventure’s Demo fleet.
...
This season I’ve got big a goal for myself, and a few smaller goals that I think will help me get there. My big goal is to ski twice as much as I did last year. Last year I skied about 30 days, so this year I want 60. My little goals to help me reach that are 1) do at least one multi-day tour from a base camp or hut. 2) ski with ten or more new partners in the backcountry and 3) go skiing on a whim. Last year almost every one of my days was planned out well in advance, and this year I want to take advantage of the opportunities provided by weather and partners. I want to say yes at the last minute.
…
If the snow plow driver cares that I’m parked here, she doesn’t slow down long enough to tell me. In thirty minutes she’s gone and I’m back in the truck, curled up awkwardly, smiling to myself and counting strides.
Winter Sports Manager Ryan Slagle looking west from Illumination Saddle late last season.
Me skinning up the Alpine trail from Government Camp into Timberline Lodge ski area already this season. It looks like it’s going to be a good one!
The back of my old Ford Ranger built out for winter camping last year. The MSR water reservoir on the tailgate was frozen solid.
...
I didn’t grow up skiing. No ski bus, no high school team, no parents following me down the groomers on a leash. I skied for the first time with friends about five years ago, but it didn’t really take until last season. I saved up and bought some boots and bindings, got a pair of beater skis from my friend Phil who helped me mount them (it was their fourth mount), and watched a lot of YouTube videos. And I fell, a lot.
I fell so much I was inappropriate. I’m a 190-lb. grown man with a beard and I crashed into a 12-year-old coming off the lift one day. (The little punk was fine). I’ve hit rocks, trees, buildings, my fiancé, and my own feet. I’ve given up and walked down slopes on multiple occasions. But I kept going. As embarrassing and sometimes painful as it was to thrash around in the resort, I kept going. I had a vision in my mind of ski mountaineering - using skis to quickly and efficiently access remote aspects of the mountains, and whistling down snowy slopes that I’d previously hiked down. Some skiers are compelled by fresh powder, and I certainly see the allure, but for me, it was the image of going somewhere high and wild that kept me pushing myself.
…
I turn over in my sleeping bag - quite the project when you’re wearing socks, fleece pants and a large puffy jacket inside an already snug Marmot Helium 15-degree bag. After finding a comfy position I realize the foot of my bag is squished up against the tailgate of the truck, allowing the cold metal to suck the heat right out of my already chilly feet. I inch-worm on my side until I find just the right angle so my 6’2” frame can sleep in the 6’ truck bed without touching anything.
I try counting strides again. 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - left - right - left - right. Just as I start to doze off a snow plow pulls into the parking lot. I tell myself the roar of its engine is the sound of wind blowing past as I’m linking turns above the tree line, but imagination turns the noise into an avalanche breaking free under my skis. I give up on sleep.
Next Adventure Ski Lead Tyler Thomaselli showed me the ropes in the backcounty last season.
...
As soon as I started skiing, I also started learning the basics of backcountry. I studied snowpack and avalanche assessment, practiced with my beacon, probe, and shovel, and I pestered everyone I knew who skied out of bounds. “Will you go with me?” “Can I come with you?” “Do you think your friends would let me ski with them if I just showed up at the trailhead and acted real lonely?” And in very stable conditions, in busy areas, I went by myself.
After a while, it started to come together. I would regularly buy a night pass at SkiBowl and ride for a few hours, sleep in my truck, then skin up Palmer the next morning before Timberline opened and ski back down. Even as a novice skier with a little mountaineering experience, I was able to ski thousands of vertical feet in a weekend - in relative solitude - and with limited risk. And if there was anything left in my legs, I would go hit SkiBowl again, but most weekends I would just wander into Charlie’s for a beer.
…
I crawl out of the bag, throw on my ski pants, a warm hat, and a cozy pair of Bog’s insulated boots before crawling out of the back of the truck canopy. The air is freezing but still, and the sky is unbelievably clear. Even with a ¾ moon and the headlights from a snow plow spinning around, it’s still easy to make out the milky way and the thousands and thousands of stars. According to my phone, it’s only 10:30, so I crack a beer and sit on the tailgate, staring up at the same mountain I’ve seen my whole life, but seeing it in a whole different way. I’m tired, restless, and excited all at the same time.
Left, Right, Left, Right… My boots pushing an awesome pair of ON3P Steeples early last season. I was able to get these sweet skis out of Next Adventure’s Demo fleet.
...
This season I’ve got big a goal for myself, and a few smaller goals that I think will help me get there. My big goal is to ski twice as much as I did last year. Last year I skied about 30 days, so this year I want 60. My little goals to help me reach that are 1) do at least one multi-day tour from a base camp or hut. 2) ski with ten or more new partners in the backcountry and 3) go skiing on a whim. Last year almost every one of my days was planned out well in advance, and this year I want to take advantage of the opportunities provided by weather and partners. I want to say yes at the last minute.
…
If the snow plow driver cares that I’m parked here, she doesn’t slow down long enough to tell me. In thirty minutes she’s gone and I’m back in the truck, curled up awkwardly, smiling to myself and counting strides.
Winter Sports Manager Ryan Slagle looking west from Illumination Saddle late last season.
Me skinning up the Alpine trail from Government Camp into Timberline Lodge ski area already this season. It looks like it’s going to be a good one!