Happy New Year

I received my parents' christmas card in the mail today and was pleased to find a plug for my blog in the midst of the news about my family. Powder and work, however, have conspired to make my blog entries increasingly sporadic, so I thought I'd update for those who may be first timers.

I'm living in Whistler BC, working as a bootfitter at Surefoot, and skiing every spare moment. Currently, it is peak season and Whistler is working its tail off to ensure that all the tourists have absolutely no trouble spending every dime they've got during their vacation. To top of the holiday season, mother nature has decided to give us some much needed snow, at long last.

Today, for instance, has been spectacular--a truly auspicious start to the new year. Some friends and I awoke early to catch the first chair up the mountain to make tracks through the 10-odd inches that fell on Blackcomb mountain last night. It was an incredible morning of skiing--the only time I stopped smiling from 8:30 until 11 was to whoop and holler or wipe snow from my face. Let me illustrate.

The trees under the Jersey Cream chair were seriously wind-loaded. That is to say, the wind had scooped the 10" from other places on the mountain and dumped it in the Jersey Cream trees. So instead of 10" there was 40+ inches. One moment in particular made my day. I was skiing under the lift, trying to find a powder stash I had seen on the ride up. I found the spot with little hassle, and prepared to ski. Upon entry to the small chute I realized there were several large ugly rocks that would "dead-end" my line and wreck my skis. Unable to stop, I jetted sideways through a small gap in two trees and jumped off a small cliff of maybe 4 feet. Basically I was praying there was enough snow coverage on the landing to make this maneouver pay off.

It was the face-shot to end all face-shots. Imagine jumping into a pool of down feathers--you feel the soft, silky white slip underneath your skis, and as you plunge downward a feeling of total weightlessness envelops you. As you descend, this soft blanket covers your head and for a moment everything is dark. Time and space pause allow you to better savor the moment, this single second that fulfills your deepest desires and reaffirms that powder-fever which brought you to Whistler in the first place. Then from the darkness you emerge, reborn. Speeding forwards into the light, golden-silver fluff flying from your jacket and helmet, a breathless whoop escapes your lips and you continue onward, exhilarated as never before.

All that before work.

Best wishes to all for the new year--I hope it treats everyone spectacularly well.

Happy New Year!!

Holly Jolly/The Grinch

Alternately this christmas has felt like a "Holly Jolly Christmas" and a "Christmas the Grinch stole." By that I simply mean it's been a holiday of ups and downs. Here's a list of each that I'm writing down to get it off my chest.

All things Grinchy

Annie breaking her tibia/fibula while skiing on Christmas day
A seriously bad run of unreasonable customers on Christmas day wanting to return boots leading to Andrew feeling discouraged about his job
The ice scraper in my car won't scrape ice
There is no snow
My skis have no edges even after being tuned--too many rocks
I'm working nine days straight and won't have a chance to ski for over a week
I cut my finger with a razor blade
The 2nd degree steam burn on my wrist
Missing out on Mexico
Living with 17 people and 2 roommates
Hide's alarm clock
The water pipe freezing in the kitchen and having to hand-wash all the dishes
2 in-bounds fatalities at Whistler Blackcomb this season
The Excalibur gondola crash
The recession
A general feeling that the karma in Whistler seriously bites right now

All Things Holly and Jolly

The massive Christmas dinner was a whopping success--pretty much the best time ever
Getting a call from the Mexico crowd on Christmas Eve
Drinking a glass of wine with dinner for the first time in months
I got lots of compliments on my pumpkin pie
Playing guitar every day
Working at a shop with really cool employees
Drinking Irish Coffee at work on Christmas morning
Drinking Rum and Egg Nog at work on Christmas morning
Drinking Brandy and Egg Nog at work on Christmas morning
Making double commission and double wage on Christmas day
Christmas day dinner with Adrienne, Shawn, and Poleck
Playing Band Hero 2 at said dinner (yeah, I've still got it)
Living with 17 awesome people
Getting a Christmas present from Mom and Dad
A forecast that calls for a week of straight snow!!

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times....that's my Christmas season.

Christmas Plans

The deerhorn house is hosting a massive dinner party on Christmas Eve--36 people are expected to show. Granted, 18 of those people live here, but it's still a big deal. Also, the hot-water pipe to the kitchen froze several days ago so we don't have a dishwasher or hot water in the kitchen....we'll see how things go.

Everyone is contributing a food typical of their country, so we'll have Korean, Japanese, Swedish, Danish, German, Australian, , etc. I'm spent part of the evening making several pumpkin pies, and I've seen Swedish meatballs being made, as well as Japanese pudding and a strange dish made from massive amounts of red cabbage (that'll be the German, of course). It should be a fun evening.

Christmas day I've been invited to dinner at Adrienne's house after I get off work, so it'll be two days of feasting for me.

Tomorrow marks the first of 9 straight days of work, including 6 days straight of 8-4 shifts. I'm gonna be worn-out and itching to ski two weeks from now. Hopefully I'll be a little richer too.

Best wishes to all for the holidays!! May the cookies be succulent, the pies symmetrical, the trees dusted with snow, the carols in-tune, and the company cheerful, well-fed, and entertaining.

Merry Christmas to all!

D.O.A.

In all honesty, the approach to the large couloir affectionately known as D.O.A (Dead On Arrival), was more dangerous than the skiing itself. The 40-minute bootpack to access the out-of-bounds chute ends in what today was a somewhat hairy traverse. Right above the entrance to the couloir, the sun had baked the snow to an ice-slick so firm it was nearly impossible to hold an edge to traverse the 20 feet to safety. Had the consequence of a fall not been a 500 foot slide punctuated by rocks and ice, we probably would have skied across. However, we had to pop off the skis and use our boots to punch through the icy sun-crust to the soft snow below. The three of us, Chelsea, Paul and I, got across safely and clipped into our skis to begin the descent. Paul chose this moment to tell us a story about the ice we had just crossed. He started off "I saw a man die once in this situation. He slip and fell maybe 500 meters down the slope." This, as we're about to enter a couloir named DOA.

I had no intention of skiing hard today. In fact, I slept in till 10, ate a leisurely breakfast and meandered over to the ski hill around noon. I planned on skiing alone for a couple hours, just taking it easy. Imagine my suprise when I showed up at the shop and Paul and Chelsea were ready to shred. So we skied DOA.

Skiing the couloir mandates some caution. The chute isn't all that steep, maybe between 35-40 degrees; nevertheless, a fall is dangerous--it would be easy to slide onto the rocks. Sideslipping is a no-no because the fresh snow can sluff on the lower icy layer and knock you or your companions over. At its narrowest point, the couloir is maybe 8-9 feet wide. Basically you just jump-turn your way through the narrow section until it opens up a little. Overnight wind had deposited about 1-2 feet of snow, which rested on an icy base, making the conditions a little tricky. On any given turn you were thigh-deep or on ice. In other words, it was really fun.

Unbelievable, really. By the time we reached the bottom, the big goofy grin stretched across my face was in danger of becoming permanent. After a week of skiing bulletproof, overcrowded groomers, this reminded me why I love skiing. Ah, it was spectacular!! We had sunny skies and knee deep snow, 20*F on the thermometer and good company.

Gondi-Tastrophe

Apparently the news of the Blackcomb Gondola crashing to the ground has reached ears around the world, so here's the local account of the story. Tuesday afternoon I was skiing with my boss, Sam. We rode the Blackcomb gondola around 12:00pm and took lifts to the Horstman Glacier near the summit of the peak. From there we hiked for 45 minutes to ski a chute in the Blackcomb backcountry. After descending the chute over wind-crusted quad-burning snow, we took a narrow cat-track back to the frontside. As a side-note: there isn't even enough snow here at the moment to ski to the bottom of the hill. Instead, one must ski to the gondola and ride the lift down. It's severely anti-climactic. Anyway, there was a long line to board the gondola, so we decided to descend to the mid-station of the Blackcomb gondola and download from there.

Skiing the rock-littered descent, although bad for our skis, probably saved us from sitting in a gondola car for upwards of two hours. Basically, one of the lower gondola towers cracked in half. Here is Whistler/Blackcomb's account of the incident. They sent this email to season-pass holders.

WHISTLER BLACKCOMB OPERATIONS TO RESUME FOLLOWING BC SAFETY AUTHORITY SECONDARY INSPECTION

December 17, 2008 – The British Columbia Safety Authority (BCSA), BC’s independent auditor on passenger ropeway systems, has given approval for Whistler Blackcomb to continue regular operations on its mountain lifts, with the exception of the Excalibur Gondola.

“Preliminary inspection by BC safety officers has determined that this was an isolated incident of water contamination in a tower tube which caused a tower joint flange to fail due to ice jacking,” said Greg Paddon, safety manager from the BC Safety Authority. “There is no justification at this time that other installations operating at Whistler Blackcomb have been effected by a similar failure; the BC Safety Authority does not anticipate rescinding operating permits on any lifts currently operating at Whistler Blackcomb other than the upper and lower Excalibur Gondola. Investigation into the incident continues on both the lower and upper Excalibur Gondola; these installations will not return to service December 17, 2008.”

Tuesday afternoon at approximately 2:30pm, a structural failure on tower 4 of the Excalibur Gondola caused the gondola to cease operation. All gondola cabins remained on the line; however a number of the cabins dropped approximately 30 feet with the sagging span, and two cabins hit the ground, injuring several people. Twelve guests were treated at the Whistler Medical Clinic and all walked out on their own accord later that evening. A total of 53 people were evacuated off the affected lower line of the gondola. The evacuation was completed by 5:51pm.

Several factors converged to cause the tower failure. The structure of the tower is such that two parts are spliced together. Water had seeped into the tower which had turned to ice with the recent extreme cold temperatures. The ice build-up caused the tower splice to rupture, an extremely unusual situation referred to as “ice-jacking”. Further investigation by a team of lift manufacturer and independent engineering experts will take place early afternoon today.“

As always, our top priority is for the safety and well-being of our resort guests and employees,” says Doug Forseth, senior vice president of operations. “Whistler Blackcomb delayed opening some of our lifts this morning until the BCSA confirmed our findings from last night. After the work conducted throughout last night by our own lift maintenance team, and a secondary inspection that was completed by the BCSA, access to all our operational lifts, with the exception of the Excalibur Gondola, is expected to be available by midday.”

Following BCSA’s inspection, the following lifts are now clear to open: Emerald Express, Big Red Express and Franz’s Chair, in addition to the Whistler Village Gondola and the Creekside Gondola on Whistler Mountain. Wizard Express, Solar Coaster and Excelerator on Blackcomb. Crews have now moved to the Jersey Cream Express and Glacier Express on Blackcomb and both those are expected to be cleared shortly.

The Excalibur Gondola is a Doppelmayr lift, and was installed in 1994. A world-leader in lift design and manufacturing, Doppelmayr lifts are in operation throughout the world and their safety record is excellent.

Right Foot, Cold Foot, Blue Foot, Oh S*^$

This week started off on the right foot. Unfortunately, Monday's bitter cold made it near impossible to tell which foot one was standing on, them being completely numb and all. The cold is ironic, actually, considering that for so long we were plagued with warm temperatures that sent rain to the highest elevations of these costal mountains, obliterating the little snowpack we have and sending skiers and snowboarders alike into spiraling waves of depression and negativity. Ironic because, at these temperatures, it's too cold to snow.

Cold and Dark, that's my December. The sun hasn't even seen fit to rise properly like it should. Instead it just lolls indolently amongst the craggy peaks that form the Whistler horizon, like an insolent child who's been sent to his room peering around the door down the hallway to make sure his mother isn't watching. When the sun does decide to show its face, it casts that crisp low-angle light that highlights even the most subtle contours of the slope. The lines between light and shadow are mathematically precise--majesty reduced to numbers. It's as if one were skiing through an Ansel Adams photo revamped in Technicolor and remastered with THX digital surround sound (wwWWWaaaaaAAAAAAAAA). Aesthetics aside, this is no Colorado-esque sunshine that browns the face and whisks away the chill of winter. The warm tones of the orange-tinted light are a clever disguise for the bitter cold of midwinter.

Make no bones about it--December has been cold. It's the kind of cold that crackles when you walk through it, like you're shattering microscopic layers of the finest frozen vapors suspended in the air. It's the kind of cold that makes you wish you could make like Michael Jackson and temporarily relocate your nose to your pocket so that it not be frosbitten into oblivion by the biting wind on the chairlift. It's the kind of cold that makes you second-guess the desire to whiz in the woods--accidents can and will happen after all. Better to head for the lodge to ensure everything runs smoothly. It's the kind of cold that prevents the removal of ski boots pending a 10 minute warming cycle in the restaurant. It's the kind of cold that makes you wish you could grow a beard like Grizzly Adams', instead of one that resembles Havarti cheese (in pattern, not texture). It's the kind of cold that is very, very cold.

Even the cold air has its perks (nipples not excluded), and the cold front has brought remarkably clear air. The visibility from the peak is unparalleled. In all directions, glacier-encrusted peaks yearn skyward, begging to be climbed and skied, pleading to have their avalanches triggered and their crevasses inadvertantly explored, their powder stashes pillaged and their itchy couloirs scratched by the steel edge of a ski. It is little wonder to me that so many young, driven, idealistic young people fall hopelessly in love with these mountains. Litle wonder, indeed. Don't worry though, mom; I'll come home someday.

Glitch

Ok, I have fixed the glitch with the movies from the "Lawn Aeration" entry, so everyone should be able to view them now. Sorry for the hitch.

Free lawn Aeration???

One fall day during college, Alex and I were bored. Boredom being a totally unacceptable state of existence, we invented a new sport.

At one point, the Shamrock house had 12 bikes stashed in the garage and on the back porch. Probably 4 of these bikes were in some level of disrepair. With so much raw material, I guess what happened next was probably inevitable. We took an old ski I had salvaged from the trash, and placed it on the ground. The ski kept the forks from burrowing into the soil at takeoff. Then we took the front wheels off two bikes, rested the forks on the ski, and popped a wheelie for as long as possible. When the wheelie ended, you endoed. Simple as that. In actuality it was quite difficult to pop a wheelie without a front wheel, the handlebars being so close to the ground and all. But, we eventually got the hang of it.....sort of.

That's all folks!

BORED?

Here are a few YouTube clips I've found interesting in the past month. Enjoy!

Impressive young Skywalker.



My parents forwarded this to me.



Sweet.



And an old classic.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

And it's about time, too. It's mid-December and it's finally beginning to snow. Until today the mountain was basically barren of snow excepting the three groomed runs filled with man-made snow. So far this season I've skied 8 days - 4 on alpine and 4 on telemark. Of those, two have been blower powder days, five have been on the worst snow I've ever skied, and one has been above average.

Just to get this off my chest, let me list several adjectives describing my feelings for man-made snow. Terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, crowded, scary, awful, sketchy, awkward, brutal, harsh, painful, like a sheet of glass, let's play hockey, rubbish. After the rain saturated the opening-day mind-blowing fluff, my ski days have been limited to one of three blue or green runs which are described by the aforementioned adjectives. I quickly came to understand the full extent of how spoiled Colorado has made me. Last year I skied 25 days, at least 20 of which were full-on powder days. Frankly, I didn't know snow could get so hard. I'd simply never seen it.

So, the past week has been interesting. It has been excellent for my technique, leg strength, and in spite of itself, quite entertaining and rewarding. I've gained confidence skiing impossibly bad snow on both my alpine and telemark equipment, and when the resort opens fully I will be strong and ready to rip. Also, my co-workers are, as I suspected, exceptional skiers and wonderful people. I have learned tons from them already, and if skiing this crappy snow can be so much fun, I can't wait till the mountian opens.

That said, today was spectacular. I skied with French Paul. French Paul is one of the three most interesting people I've ever met. He does and says things that I would never in a million years ever conceive of doing. He is an exceptional, and I mean exceptional telemark and alpine skier (he's lived in the French alps for four years so he'd better be). Needless to say, he's fun to ski with. Today we rocked the teles from 9-2 until our legs were screaming and we could scarcely walk to the gondola. It snowed all day, and FINALLY this is beginning to look like a ski resort. I finished the day feeling confident on my skis, and utterly worn out. SNOWSNOWSNOWSNOWSNOWSNOWSNOWSNOWSNOWSNOWSNOWSNOW!!!!!

Ok, it's for real this time, I swear. No, really, it is!

I moved again. I know I previously said I was done moving and settled in to the White Gold place, but now I'm out. In fact, last night I moved back into the deerhorn house where I was living before. The story reads as such:

I was sitting at home (in White Gold) watching the Simpsons when my phone rang. It was Kim from the Deerhorn house, asking me if the rumors I was moving back in were true. Having heard nothing of this I said "well, that would be news to me." Apparently, the exchange program that runs the house rented a second house in Bayshores, which freed up space in the Deerhorn place. Rico had given me a good reference and Chris had invited me to come back. He told everyone but me I was moving back in.

The good news is I like it here and it's good to be back. Also, the rent is substantially cheaper and they have a dishwasher. Also a sauna. The bad news is I share a room again and I'm 10 minutes driving from the village, 30 minutes on the bus.

Best be off!

Yes, I'd like a '99 Passat with a side of Quirky, please.

So in the six brief years that my car and I have been acquainted, she has shown me more quirky personality traits than I thought any vehicle could conjure. Quirky is definitely the proper word. I'm not talking about the type of heavy-duty baggage that could spell the end for a quality six-year relationship. Things like head-gasket failure, smoke from under the hood, the clutch burning out, the transmission exploding, chronic backfire, etc.--those are real deal-brakers. But the sheer number of subtle disfunctionalities is quite impressive.

I suppose it's kind of endearing really....someday I'm sure I'll miss the visor mirror covers that fall off every time someone tries to pop a zit in the passenger seat (and the duct-tape holding it in place), the CD player in the trunk that doesn't play CD's, the short in the dashboard that cuts the backlight to the temperature controls so that when I drive at night I can't see whether the defroster or the AC is on, the temperamental right-rear passenger-side window that only rolls down when it's warmer than 90* or when you stretch waaay back to use the control on the door itself, the emergency brake cover that comes off in your hand if you pull too hard, the cupholders that don't hold anything other than a can of beer or a child-size frosty, the driver's-side front speaker that must be thwacked soundly every Thursday at noon for it to continue to fulfill it's duties as a sound-emitting device, the volume control knob that occasionally BLASTS the volume when you try to turn the volume down, the passenger-side seat that is never quite comfortable, the random spring I found floating under the seat four years ago the function of which I have still not figured out, or the metal kabob skewer I rigged to hold the glovebox shut because one day the handle came off in my hand when I tried to access my drivers manual. I guess someday I'll miss those things. But for now, I'm just impressed with her newest trick.

This one really takes the cake. It first happened about two weeks ago, when it got really cold for several days running. I walked up to my vehicle in the parking lot, and inserted my key into the driver's side lock (I never use a remote--both because it takes up too much space in my pocket and because it got wet two days after I got the car and hasn't worked since). Anyhow, the key wouldn't go in. I tried flipping the key, jamming the key, the bit. No matter what I did, it would not go in more than halfway. Stumped, I walked around to the trunk and unlocked the car from there.

Two days later the lock started working just fine. In the following weeks, I tracked this phenomenon and have discovered the following: the problem only occurs when the temperature drops belos 32*F. Basically my car attempts to lock me out anytime the thermometer dips below freezing. It's accurate--I'd say within two degrees +/-. Of course, my point of reference for all this is the thermometer built into the car itself, which, for some inexplicable reason umbeknownst to me, I'm still disposed to trust.

Ski Lingo for Dummies

OK, I couldn't let this one pass. On my birthday I received an email from my grandparents (thanks for the gift!) wishing be a happy birthday. Included in the email was the following sentence:

"We've been reading your blog. You have a whole different vocabulary than we speak!!!!"

Now that the resort is open my entries may trend towards ski-talk, so it is of the utmost importance that we're all on the same page with the vocabulary. I visited a Ski Bum site for a starter list, and then added some definitions of my own. Sentences or words in [brackets] are my own additions.

May this entry act as a tool for those that struggle to decipher my slang/ski lingo.

Types of Runs

Bunny Hill – the area of any ski mountain that’s specifically set aside for beginners. It’s
always got a very slight incline, and lots of extra room for everyone to fall down without
any worries.

Backcountry – the unmarked trails that are beyond the areas of the mountain that are
accessible by the lifts. Only the most expert skiers and riders should ever explore
backcountry areas. They go through extensive avalanche survival training, and carry
special gear. If you’re the sort of skier or rider who’s reading this vocabulary list, don’t go
into the backcountry. [True Dat]

Groomed run (or “groomer”) – a run that’s been combed over by grooming
equipment, resulting in a smooth, wavy surface that some folks will call corderoy [it looks like the fabric]. A
groomed surface is the easiest surface to ski or ride on. Most grooming is done overnight,
so the best time to enjoy groomed runs is early in the day.

Bowl -- a large, open, bowl-shaped area of a mountain, usually with few trees and lots of
snow. More common out West than in the East. [Think Vail]

Mogul run – a run that’s got big bumps, which are particularly challenging. Sometimes
these bumps are the natural byproduct of a fresh snowfall that’s been churned up by a
day or two of skiers and riders, and sometimes they’re moguls that are shaped by special
equipment. Most mogul runs are black diamond runs. [Knee cartilage is overrated]

Chutes – extremely challenging trails that dodge between trees or rocks, usually at the
top of a mountain. These are often marked with double-black diamonds. [see also couloir -- a subcategory of chute characterized by steep rock walls on either side, almost universally narrow and steep]

Cat tracks - a very thin trail that cuts across a mountain, usually connecting one part of
the mountain to another, with a very slight incline. Snowboarders often dislike them,
because the slight incline makes it difficult to maintain speed.

Traverse – verb: to ski or slide-slip against the fall line, to move sideways across a
slope, instead of down. If you suddenly discover a field of moguls below you, you might
traverse across the slope to get to an easier area of the run. noun: a path that cuts
sideways across a slope.

What's a Line?

Lift line – the line of people waiting to board a chair lift.

Fall line – the imaginary line down the natural slope of a trail: if you allowed a big ball to
roll down a hill, that’s the fall line. [good definition--if you know this one people will think you're good]

Line – the particular path that you take down a run, most often used when skiing or riding
in an open bowl. Skier 1: “I’m going to head out left, then head straight down.” Skier 2:
“Yeah, that’s a great line.”

Types of Snow

Powder - fresh snowfall that's low in moisture content. Powder is the best snow to ski or
ride on. In the West, some resorts (particularly in Utah) have fluffy powder with
extremely low moisture content, which they'll call champagne powder.

Crud – powder that’s been skied over. It looks like cookie dough; it's chunky looking, but
still soft. Crud is a preferred snow texture.

Corn – hard re-frozen pellets of snow – a preferred snow texture.

Grapple – like very small hail pellets, or like sleet, but rounder and thicker. Grapple isn't
the best snow, but it's not the worst. It doesn't stick to your skis or board.

Groomed - see "groomed run" above.

Crust - hard packed snow that's frozen, but not icy. [wind crust - layer of hard, windblown snow with soft powder underneath - notoriously difficult to ski]

Mashed Potatoes [slush] – warm, melting snow, most common during the spring at the base of
a mountain. It's notoriously slow to ski or ride in.

Types of Conditions

Bluebird day – The most gorgeous day imaginable. A bluebird day is a bright, sunny day
after a fresh snowfall the night before.

Vertigo – foggy conditions, which make it very easy to lose your sense of balance.

Flatlight – a cloudy day, which makes it hard to perceive definition on the snow surface,
and can easily trigger a headache. A yellow-lens goggle will often help the best.

Andrew's Additives

Gnarly - Line or run which is intense, steep, rocky, or otherwise dangerous and risky. Syn: burly Var: Gnar, gnarilicious, tasty, burlicious, beefy, sick Usage: "Lace up your gnar boots, this could get sticky!"

Sick - Adjective describing something amazing, spectacular, intense, skillful, ballsy, unbelievable, etc. Syn: Ill, wicked, rad Usage: "That footage of Hugo Harrison sure was sick!"

Blower - Adj describing absolutely spectacular powder conditions Usage "Today was blower man, I can't believe your sorry ass had to work."

Epic - Unbelievable conditions, perfect day skiing, etc.

Huck, Drop, Send - All terms for skiing off a cliff. Usage: "When there's more snow, I'm gonna send that cliff."

Amped, psyched, pumped - Charged up, ready to go, excited etc.

Face Shots - A "Face shot" occurs when a skier (snowboarders don't get face shots) skis through such deep powder that the snow is pushed up and splashes the skier in the face, temporarily blinding him/her. This will nearly universally elicit war whoops, yells and shouts of ecstasy. The face shot is the holy grail of powder skiing.

Stomp - To stick a landing, to land soundly without thrashing about or nearly falling.

Yard Sale - This occurs when a skier falls at high speed and items such as poles, goggles, hat, gloves, boots, skis etc. become strewn across the slope. Self explanatory, really.

Sketch - Verb, transitive. To "sketch" something is to very nearly mess it up. For example, "Ferdinand sketched that landing" would indicate that Ferdinand nearly fell while landing. Adj - Sketchy. Indicated a high degree of danger, unknown consequence or risk. Also a person of questionably character or judgement.

Gaper - (GAY-per) A person who is not an experienced skier. Hallmarks of Gaperdom are a complete inability to carry skis, dated clothing, rear-entry boots, a complete inability to walk in ski boots, anyone from Texas, etc.

Goggle Gap - The space between the top of the goggles and the helmet. There should be no space between the goggles and the helmet, as snow and wind will otherwise freeze your brains. Goggle gap = major gaper.

Rip - To ski/snowboard very well. SYN - "To shred" Usage "Jolene was a real ripper. Did you see her shred that line?"


Kill, Slay - To ski/ride something exceptionally well. Usage "Ronaldo slayed [killed] that line."


Well, I could keep writing but I think that's enough working vocab for the time being. If I think of any crucial words I have forgotten I will post them at a later date. Happy reading!!

Rockcomb

Blackcomb mountain opened today. Pollack and I walked onto the gondola at the crack of 9:35 only to find that Blackcomb was fully living up to it's derisive moniker: Rockcomb. There really wasn't enough coverage to ski, and after hitting a few rocks we called it quits.

Instead, we headed up good old Whistler mountain and hiked to Harmony bowl. I made tracks down a narrow chute in knee to thigh deep powder and Pollack hit a good line as well. The snow was so good we decided to spend 25 minutes bootpacking back to the top to ski new, equally epic lines before heading down. Our descent featured endless powder, no tracks, and I even skied some trees where I found more deep snow. Bottom line? I'm exhausted, exhilarated, and fully ready to work for a couple days to let my legs relax.

Pollack was skiing a narrow, center-mounted Volkl park kski that was about a foot to small for him (his skis are not yet mounted) so it was a feat to ski such deep snow. The highlight may have been his accidental 180 reverse-somersault maneuver that left me doubled over with laughter and him with powder in his pants.

Happy Thanksgiving to all!!

WoHOO!!

Whistler mountain opened today, and I cannot adequately describe to you how phenomenal it was. The skiing was absurd. Really, it was just silly. November 26 has never slid so well--at least for yours truly. I showed up at the gondola line expecting a Loveland-style opening with one run and tons of man-made snow. Well, the man-made snow part was partially right. But I get ahead of myself.

I stashed my ski gear at the shop last night, so I walked over at 8:30 this morning to suit up. Sam took several hours off from work to ski, and the two of us headed to the gondola line. The line stretched almost 200 yards from the loading station, after going through the turnstiles. Fortunately it went quickly, and we were on the mountain by 9:15. We quickly discovered almost a foot of snow and spent several runs investigating this unexpected surprise.

We soon met up with some other skiers and decided to hike up to Whistler bowl. I must add two things here 1) I had no idea what was happening, I simply followed the locals and tried not to fall onto rocks 2) these people are a different breed of skier. (The terrain we skied is normally accessed via lifts, but they weren't running. By hiking, we managed to pillage the best lines on the mountain, untracked.) After about an hour's hike, Luke marched up to scope an intimidating line. Shadowed by a cornice with unknown coverage and exposed rocks to cushion a fall, it looked questionable at best. Truth be told, we couldn't really see more than the first 50 feet--it was too steep. I was a little nervous--after all this is my 3rd run of the season for pete's sake--but we all ended up skiing it. THe snow was good, knee deep, and the run was probably a 40-43 degree pitch. Super-fun, in other words.

We skied, hiked, skied, and hiked all day long. Our last run again mandated the hour-long hike to the summit where we skied a narrow (two ski-lenghts wide) chute at a 40* pitch (approx). Again, gnarly powdery fun.

Now that the resort is open, the true character of this town is beginning to shine. Instead of melancholy downtrodden folks struggling to exist in this overpriced fantasy world, we are united as skiers, each as psyched as the next to rip turns every day. The change happened overnight and Whistler feels like a new town.

As we were hiking up to take our last run, I met Hugo Harrison. As far as celebrities go, I'm not one to raise a ruckus, but it took me by surprise. Paul, Andre and I were just clipping in to ski the couloir when Hugo walked by. He had a pair of beefy 195cm Kastle skis with a huge Helly Hansen sticker plastered across the front (one of his sponsors). Andre knew him, so he stopped to chat for several minutes before slogging upward towards the summit. It was great to see one of the best skiers in the world just out doing what he loves to do--no helicopters, film crews, nothing. Just Hugo with his giant skis strapped to his pack. I would have loved to watch him ski, but that's just not a reality. There's no way to keep up with this guy. For those of you who don't know him, here's some ski porn to give you an idea of how good he is. We had a large poster of him at Outpost; I may have given it to my bro. Click the square at bottom right to watch the full-screen version.



My legs are exhausted, so I think I'll take the advice of French Paul for the evening. "There is nothing so good as your ass for resting your legs."

Where the beer flows like wine....

ASPEN!!!

I just returned from our staff training trip in Aspen Colorado. We took three flights into the Aspen airport on Wednesday the 19th and returned on Sunday the 23rd. The trip was all-expenses paid, and we were treated very well A full entry would be overwhelming so I've compiled a highlight reel.

Wednesday we woke at 3:30 am after two hours of sleep, traveled 18 hours on three flights, and arrived in Aspen at 8pm. I called Amanda, and Luke, Paul, Amanda and I dove straight into the hot tub, then went to the Double Dog Pub for Guinness, followed by beer and pizza at 1am.

Thursday I walked around the village for several hours, saw Kelsey, and went to the training in the afternoon. I learned more about boots than I ever thought was possible to know, and then we headed to dinner at "Gusto," a nice restaurant off of Main street. The meal was paid for by Surefoot so we all ordered Filet Mignon, wine, beer, shots--whatever we wanted, basically. It was the best meal I've had in months, and the steak was Argentine-esque (ie unbelievable).

Friday was full on training. We had to find our own dinner so we went to Annies, a sweet bar with cheap food and cheaper alchohol. (You may be noticing a trend here.)

Saturday was full on traning as well, followed by dinner at the Cantina, a Mexican restaurant. Again, the bar was open. All Surefoot employees were entrusted to eat and drink as much as possible, and we did not take this duty lightly. After the restaurant we went to several clubs and stayed out till 2am. I saw a crack dealer get busted, and found some rocks on the floor of the bar afterwards. (Yes, I threw them away.)

Sunday is worth mention. Here's a timeline of the day.

8:40 am - 10 employees meet at the front desk to catch a shuttle to the airport
9:30 am - 10 employees board a prop plane to denver, ginger ale in hand, heads down.
9:40 am - Cabin pressurization makes one employee vomit in a bag.
9:45 am - Severe Turbulence makes two more employees vomit in a bag.
9:46 am - flight attendant refuses to let anyone out of his/her seat to use the bathroom
10:00 am - Even more severe turbulence makes several more employees vomit
10:05 am - We arrive at DIA and part ways

Basically, the flight was painful and hysterical all at once. People looked like death, and I mean absolute unfiltered pain and agony. It was really pitiful. After the flight I went and apologized to a couple with an infant who had been sitting in front of one guy (R) who puked the whole time and looked as pathetic and hurting as any human can look. The couple laughed and said "no, it was nice. It reminded us of when we used to have a good time." Ugh. I'm not so sure R would have shared that sentiment. Anyway, it was the most eventful flight I've been on in a while. And for the record, my vomit bag remained dry.

"Aspen, where the beer flows like wine and the women flock like the salmon of Capustrano." --Dumb and Dumber

There's no place like Foam

Today I had my custom liners made. We refer to the practice as "foaming" because the liners are made from an expanding chemical reaction that forms a dense foam once inside the liner. Previously I had performed this peculiar and somewhat esoteric practice on unsuspecting customers in spite of never having had it done to me.

The principle is as follows. Ski boots need to be made of a stiff material in order to drive the ski with sufficient force. Due to it's weight, relative flexibility, price, etc, plastic has been chosen for the manufacture of ski boots (polyether to be precise). Plastic, it turns out, is not the most comfortable footwear in the best of conditions. Now take this vise-like, generic plastic hull, shove your foot into it and subject yourself to subzero temperatures, water in all forms, and high-force impacts. No small wonder skiers' feet aren't happy at the end of the day. Traditional liners are basically layered foam that breaks down quickly (pack-out) and do little except keep the foot warm and protect it from the nefarious plastic. The foam liner is custom-made to the user's foot, allowing the material to be more dense, last longer, and actually improve the performance of the boot. Because the liner contours to the foot and holds it snugly, energy is transmitted rapidly to the ski. OK, now for the fun part.

The un-injected custom liner looks like a mutant octopus--no fewer than 6 plastic tubes protrude from it's surface (see photo below). Two tubes run into the liner just above the ankle near the achilles, one runs into the tongue, and three exit tubes run from the top of the foot where the tongue of the liner meets the foot. Foam runs into the top tubes, fills all the empty space in the boot and exits through the tubes at the bottom.

Succinctly, the process of foaming is medieval. It's painful, involves brute strength, severely decreased circulation, pliers, hair-pulling, sweat, physical exertion, and a highly exothermic chemical reaction (explosions are highly exothermic, fyi.) People pay lots of money to have this done.

Step 1) The bootfitter places very sticky pads over the ankle bones (if they're hairy prior, they won't be afterwards). The pads are followed by a sock, then a toe cap, then a plastic bag. The toe cap keeps the heel pushed back in the boot (ie crunches your toes) and the plastic bag protects the foot from the foam if something goes wrong. The pain begins here.
Step 2) The bootfitter yanks on the liner with pliers to remove wrinkles, then buckles the boot to obscene tightness. On top of this, a strong velcro strap is wrapped around the tongue of the boot as tight as it can be pulled. This keeps the tongue from getting too fat with foam and doubles as a tournakit.
Step 3) The game of seconds begins. The bootfitter mixes the chemicals and shakes for 15 seconds. Too long and the bottle will explode--make no doubt about it. After 15 seconds the lid is removed and QUICKLY screwed into the injection tubes on the tongue. At this point the customer feels as if all the blood is being pushed from his/her lower leg (it squeezes like a blood pressure test on 'roids).
Step 4) Buckles are tightened even further, more chemicals are mixed and the heel section of the liner is foamed. For two minutes the customer is asked to pull downwards against two steel bars positioned on either side of the foaming stand. This is crucial to keep the heel set firmly in the boot. The foam pushes with enough force to move the foot if the person does not pull hard enough.
Step 5) The process is repeated for the other foot.
Step 6) The customer stands in the boots for five minutes before the buckles are loosened and circulation can return to the feet.

Bottom line? I will be much more sympathetic when customers complain that the process is uncomfortable. It is.

The sock, the pads, the toe cap, and the plastic bag. Have fun!

This shot is taken by a customer of someone using pliers to remove wrinkles from the liner.

Here is a boot with the custom liner in it. The foam is visible flowing into the tongues of both boots. Notice the exit tubes coming from the toes and the tubes at the rear of the boot. The chemicals can be seen in the background. The small dark bottle is poured into the large pink one before shaking.

Howl at the Moon

November has been a rather uneventful month. Turns out, life is significantly less interesting once a person is gainfully employed and has a place to live. Carwithness, it seems, makes excellent fodder for writing.

As for the photo, yes. That is me, in my underwear, jumping into a glacial lake in the dead of night under a full moon in Canada. Let me explain. In mid-October I took a run down towards Green Lake, and in doing so discovered a lovely swimming dock. Upon returning to the house, I proposed that all the roommates (now former-roommates) should go swimming in the lake under the full moon. Unfortunately the full moon had just passed and the next was on the 12th of November. "Well, we'll do it then," I said, making everyone promise to join me on the mission.

The matter stayed under the radar until the 12th of November. This was my intent. I've discovered that people are much more apt to act rashly when they haven't had time to think something through. My recruiting scheme depended on three elements. 1) I had made everyone promise in October they would come (helloooo guilt trip) 2) they wouldn't have time to wimp out if I didn't remind them in advance 3) peer pressure. This strategy has served me well for seducing hapless friends into ditching class to go skiing, taking massive hikes up Colorado peaks in the dead of night, running off for last-minute fishing trips, etc. Things this important should never be left to chance.

So, at 8pm on November the 12th, under a clear, moonlight sky, I burst into the house howling like a werewolf and generally making a ruckus--making damn sure everyone knew exactly what was up (no excuses, remember?) By 11 o'clock pm I had convinced six other foolhardy souls to jump in the freezing glacial lake with me, in the 40* weather. We piled 14 people into 2 cars (my Passat has never held 8 people before) and drove to the lake. We stripped down to the skivvies, posed briefly for a photo, and before you could say "if-all-your-friends-jumped-into-a-freezing-lake-would-you-follow?" bodies started hitting the water.

Before.

Immediately before.

"Get me (*gasp*) outta here!!"

We chased our cold water experience with hot chocolate and movies, as well as a German-style sauna experience. Actually only Rico and I went for the German sauna which consisted of three sessions, each hotter and longer than the last. For the final session, Rico instructed me that we must cover our entire bodies with salt, and cover our faces with syrup. I can now definitively say that sweat tastes much better when it's mixed with syrup, and that my skin was silky smooth. Hope everyone's November is going well, please pray for colder temperatures in Whistler!!

New Home

Well, I've moved again. This time, I should be set for the season. I'm now living about 10 minutes walking from the village (as opposed to 10 minutes driving), and I have my own room. Basically I'm renting a room from a family who are renting the ground floor of a house. There are 2 other sets of people living upstairs: a couple and a group of guys. I haven't met any of them yet. The room is quite nice with plenty of space for my things. I've got a window, a closet, and I sleep on a futon which doubles as a couch. For this 10X10 foot area, plus internet, utilities, and use of the kitchen/washer/dryer, I pay $800/mo. Yeah.

The family is Brendan (12), Dan (16), and Lisa (?), and they're very nice people. I don't think living with them will be a problem. So I'm happy and Finally settled in for the winter. Whew.

I haven't written much lately because there's nothing happening. I've been working only 2 days/week and spending the other 5 sleeping, watching movies, cleaning my car, running, playing guitar, walking around, cleaning my room, cooking, brushing my teeth, playing guitar, cleaning my room, watching movies....you get the picture: anything to fill my time.

Yesterday Lars, Michael, Sungse and I went on a mission to Squamish seeking more affordable groceries, and we had a blast. We each bought massive amounts of food and crammed it into the trunk of the Passat. None of them had ever eaten Wendys, so I made them all purchase a Junior Bacon Cheeseburger and a Frosty before we headed back up to Whistler. I also splurged and bought new guitar strings (yes!).

Tomorrow Lars, Michael and I are headed to Rainbow Lake for a hike. It should be interesting since WHISTLER GOT SNOW ON THURSDAY!!!! 16" OF IT!!!! and there's a 60% chance of rain showers. Hopefully one of the boys will bring a camera. Also when I get a camera I'll post more pics of my room etc.

November 4th, 2008!!

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any form of government becomes destructive to these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shown that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future security. --Such has been the patient sufferance of these colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former systems of government."

Sorry to break my self-imposed ban on political commentary, but I just couldn't keep silent on this particular occasion. I've also added several very select songs to the playlist which I find inspiring, fitting, or patriotic. There are 6 new songs total. Click "Play," and then use the "forward/back" buttons to hear them all. !Disfrútense!

Days of Yore

The summer after our junior year, specifically June of 2007, Brandon, Alex, and I loaded up the 'Burban, strapped our bikes to the rack and headed to paradise: Moab, Utah. As I recall, the trip cost $170/per person for everything: gas, food, lodging, fees, and a daily Wendy's frosty after a ride. For a week, we camped in an RV park downtown, drank 3.5% beer, and woke up at the crack of dawn to avoid the intolerable 100+ degree heat of the early summer. A side note: Utah liquor stores don't stock domestic brews like Budweiser, so any beer purchased in a liquor store is imported, and subsequently expensive. Even six-packs are priced by the bottle; it's total rubbish. As a result, we were forced to purchase beer in the supermarket: the highly inferior 3.5% near-beer. In spite of the absurdity of Utah's liquor laws, the trip was a hoot. We rode Poison Spider and descended the death-defying and infamous Portal trail (walking, mostly, although the author endoed on that stretch), Slickrock Trail, Porcupine Rim, Kokopelli Down, and Klondike Bluffs in a lightning storm.

For you non-bikers, an "endo" may require some definition. The term is a combination of the words "end" and "over." Basically, this maneouver requires that while moving, the rider completely stops the front tire of the bike. This can be acheived artificially by braking exclusively with the left hand, but it is more commonly acheived by stalling the tire in front of a root, rock, or other protuberance in the trail. With the front tire frozen, the rider's momentum will pitch him headlong over the handlebars, arms flailing and mouth wailing. It is a traumatic endeavor, due in part to the certainty of landing on rocks, a cactus, etc. To make matters worse, in 90% of endoes, the bike will continue its trajectory and land atop the battered rider, or worse, entangle itself amongst his legs, preventing him from standing without stretching his depleted epidermis into any number of painful positions. Endoes are generally a result of riding too slowly, or being overly-cautious on a difficult section. Oh, the irony. After all, "speed is your friend!"

Here's a case in point. We arrived in Moab around 3pm, set up camp AFAP (As Fast As Possible), and rushed to the Slickrock practice loop, a 2 mile sandstone sampler designed to deterr the woefully unprepared from committing themselves to a 23-mile circuit of impossibly steep grades, furnace-like temperatures, and the innapropriately named "slickrock," which is more aptly described as a 50-grit sandpaper that eats bike tires and human skin cells as an appetizer. Falling on slickrock is like spooning with a belt sander--not in your best interest. Near the end of the practice loop, we halted to examine a particularly tricky section where the trail plunged down into a sandpit--a sure invitation to endo. Our valiant guinea pig, Alex, was determined to avoid the catastrophic end-over, and took the descent with speed, popping his front tire at the last second so as to land level on the sand below. The maneouver was executed perfectly, but mother nature had other plans. Luckily, Brandon captured the moment on video and it remains as a priceless testament as to why we always let Alex go first.

He was cleaning sand out of his bike, ears, nose and Co. all week. Here is a small sampling of photos from the trip.

Welcome to the Portal Trail. Even sucididal Moab-ites won't ride much of this section--it's just stupid. One slip of the tires and you're falling 20 stories to your death, no ifs ands or buts about it. Click to see the full version, but the sign reads: "DISMOUNT NOW! Not suitable for biking! 200 FOOT CLIFF. Three riders have died here." We only rode sections of the trail.

This gives some perspective on the consequences of a fall while riding the portal trail. That teensy white ribbon next to the river is a highway.

Brandon, meet slickrock. Slickrock, meet Brandon. Battle scars after a week in Moab. Kids, just say "No" to sandstone.

I didn't fall.

Taking a 200' whiz, looking down over the town of Moab. What a life.

Wedgemount Lake

The hike to Wedgemount Lake (left) was a little brutal. From the trailhead the hike is 4 miles one-way, with a vertical gain of 3608 feet. I crunched the numbers, and assuming an 18-inch stride, for every horizontal step, 3 inches will be gained. In your house, this trail is would be stairs. It had no switchbacks, either. It was a grind. I hiked with Kim, a self-proclaimed computer geek from Sweden. The pictures were taken with her camera.

The trailhead was a 7 minute drive from the house, and we started hiking at 8:45am. It was a chilly morning, 33*F, but we quickly warmed up as we climbed. After two hours we hit snow, and the ascent to the lake took 4 hours.

The hike was beautiful. The lush damp undergrowth, towering trees hanging with Spanish moss, and the occasional frozen mushroom were a welcome change of pace from bone-dry CO hikes.

The final stretch of the hike rates a mention as "sketchy." It was the part of the hike Madeline would have hated. Basically, the trail followed the perimeter of a boulderfield, and a stream ran down the trail. The water had frozen over the rocks, creating what amounts to a high-alpine luge course. This, coupled with the 2-3 inches of snow, made for a wet, slick, steep scramble to gain the last 500 feet to the lake. Thanks for the gaiters, mom.

We ate lunch at the lake (peanut butter and honey sandwich, pumpkin seeds, chocolate, block of aged cheddar cheese), snapped some photos, and we headed down. All told we saw 6 people on the hike.

Kim had a bit of a rough day. In the first 10 minutes of the descent, she tore an 8 inch hole in the backseat of her trousers, right next to the center seam. I haven't posted a picture of he rip due to it's unfortunate location and her request that I not. Every time we ran into someone, she had to face them so they wouldn't see the hole. Thankfully, we had some duct tape. She also fell hard twice during the long, steep, slippery, icy descent, bruising her hip and shoulder in the process. I fell also, but I picked a good location and went down smoothly.

After we arrived home I watched "Miss Congeniality" while eating ice cream cake, played guitar for an hour, then watched "Grease," which was a kick. Here's some photos from the day. As always, click to see the full-size photo.

Me. The glacier behind my head can be seen from our house in Emerald Estates.

Kim.

I really miss Fort Collins beer. Really a lot.

Kim, in a giant hollow tree.

I went out on a limb for this photo op.

Me Andrew. Me sell boots.

Today I sold my first pair of custom boots. A gentleman from Vancouver bought 2 pairs of custom insoles, a custom liner, a custom boot, and a pair of socks. All things considered I felt I did very well for my first time. However, this particular gentleman, I'll call him Ned, had very short, VERY wide feet (257mm foot, 110 mm wide, if that means anything you to, great). Basically his foot is the length of a 7, and the width of an 11 or 12. This creates problems.

The downside is it took 4 hours to get his boots perfected. The upside I learned a ton of stuff and reviewed all the things I already knew. The process went like this:

Ned enters store.
I greet Ned.
Ned says he wants new boots.
I say great, take off your shoes.
I measure Neds foot.
I take the impression for the orthotic.
I take the impression for the orthotic 7 more times because I'm not practiced at it.
Ned is very patient.
I am very grateful.
I make the orthotics.
I help Ned into the boots, I foam the liners (foaming the liners is a story in and of itself)
Ned tries on the boots.
(elapsed time to this point 1.5 hours)
Ned says the boots hurt.
I think "no small wonder." It's like shoving a hamburger into a hot dog bun.
I tell Ned a width expansion will take 2 hours.
I learn to do a width expansion.
I do a width expansion.
I eat lunch.
Ned tries on boots.
(elapsed time 3.5 hours)
Ned says there is pressure over the instep.
I tell Ned it will take 30 minutes to fix.
I learn how to fix this problem.
I fix this problem.
Ned tries on boots.
Ned is happy with boots.
Ned pays lots of money for boots.
I am told by manager that that was a very tough fit, possibly one of the toughest for the year.
I am happy.
I go home and eat pumpkin ice cream cake.
I am even more happy.

As you may have deduced, I made pumpkin ice cream cake from the pumpkin goop I stewed last week, and it is de-licious. My only complaint is that it has an icy texture, not smooth and creamy. I don't know how Janey got it to re-freeze and be so smooth. The cake makes for excellent currency in the house. I came home today and Rico had made an amazing lamb roast with a garlic onion wine sauce. I traded him a piece of cake for a juicy slice of lamb. Oh yes.

Tomorrow I'm hiking Wedgemount Lake in Garibaldi National Park. The lake sits just below Wedge mountain, which is the peak directly north of Blackcomb mountain. It should be brutal and beautiful. I'm bringing a camera so I'll have a full entry tomorrow complete with photos.

An Epic Journey

Today I spent in the kitchen. Well, mostly. First I made a gigantic batch of Granola which turned out really well. I made half the batch per the traditional Sky Ranch recipe, and to the other half I added peanut butter. They are both delicious. Then, I set out to carve the giant pumpkin I bought in Vancouver last week. While carving it, I salted and baked the seeds, and took some of the pumpkin meat to make into soup. At least soup was what I intended.

After boiling the pumpkin for awhile, It had a consistency closer to pie filling than soup, so I added sugar, cloves, cinnamon and ran with it. I boiled the concoction for about 2 hours, then baked it for 40 minutes. What I wound up with was a not-pie, not-soup, not-quite-pudding substance. It tastes quite good, but it has a very strong flavor. I think I'm going to buy a gallon of ice cream, melt it, stir the pumpkin into it, re-freeze it and have pumpkin ice cream (Thanks for the idea Janey).

After all that cooking and washing of pots (it doesn't sound like much on paper but I cooked straight from 12pm-4), I decided to take a bike ride. I headed south towards the village, and took bike trails down towards Green lake. I had hoped there was a trail following the far shore of the lake, but to my dismay the bike trails dumped me on the Nicklaus North golf course. Undeterred, I discovered that the railroad tracks ran on the far side of the lake. (Walking on railroad tracks is something I do not recommend. As you will see, my cerebral function is not quite up to snuff.) I saw a large coyote on the tracks, but was unable to take his picture.

I followed the tracks for about 30 minutes. Riding one's bike on a railway line is more similar to the way a farmer rides than the way a lady rides, FYI. Stick to trails and roads and your prostate will thank you. But, the woes of my buttocks were forgotten as I looked across the lake at the hanging glaciers to the west.

It was nearing dusk, and I needed to get back to the road, which follows the opposite shore of the lake. As I reached the north end of the lake, I came to the realization that there was likely to be a large river exiting the north end of this gigantic lake, blocking my path to the road. Crap. The tracks didn't cross the river, so there was no bridge.

I decided I'd have to cross the river. Turning back would have meant riding an extra 1.5 hours in the dark, and I had no lights. Unfortunately, the river we're talking about is fast and glacial blue. Kind of intimidating, in other words. To top it off, I had with me Kim's camera. In my life I have owned two cameras. I have systematically destroyed both of them, one by dunking it in a river, and the other by dunking it in the ocean. I did not want to destroy this camera.

So, I wrapped it in my gloves and hat, then put it in the hood of my raincoat and cinched the elastic tight to hold it in. I laced my shoes, shouldered my bike, and stepped into the river. Thankfully, the water never got deeper than my bellybutton. 2/3 of the way across, I hit a sketchy section. Fearing I would fall, I took the camera (it was very well padded for just this reason) and threw it across to the opposite shore. Several minutes later I made it safely across, hopped on my bike and rode the 10 minutes home. Apparently the curse of the camera only applies to cameras I own. Thank God.

This is a shot looking South across Green Lake at Whistler Mountain. To take this photo I am standing with my back to the road. The tracks are on the opposite shore, and the golf course sits over there somewhere.

"Let me see yo' grill, yeah yeah, yo' grill"

A sweet old truck I found between the railroad tracks and the river.

Same truck.

This is the 8th hole of the Nicklaus North golf course. That is bear scat. Whister has a bear problem. Kim, one of the housemates, was late getting home this evening because there was a bear between the exit and the car. It was sitting directly outside a glass door, and hung around for 30 minutes before sauntering off. The same bear actually got inside a building the other day, so i'd say its life expectancy is plummeting.

Thanks for reading!

Places

Here are a few photos of Whistler, I'll try to keep getting photos up since my entries have been a little "textually inappropriate" of late.

These are the stairs of the house, I liked the artistic quality of the photo.

This is the kitchen. Rico and I built the shelves for the microwave yesterday, and it looked Good.

The view from my daily commute. This is looking North/West ish. The only peak I know is Wedge peak and it's the one to the far right in the photo.

This tree sits just in front of the house.

View of Blackcomb mountain from Whistler village.