South Africa

South Africa

Papua New Guinea

Papua New Guinea

Peru

Peru

West Papua, Indonesia

West Papua, Indonesia

Quotes That Keep Me Going....

"There are only three sports: Bull fighting, motor racing and mountaineering; the rest are merely games." Ernest Hemingway

"Adventure is a path. Real adventure--self-determined, self-motivated, often risky--forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world. The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it. Your body will collide with the ear and you will bear witness. In this way you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind--and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both. This will change you. Nothing will ever again be black-and-white."
--Mark Jenkin

"The use of traveling is to regulate imagination by reality, and instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are."
--Samuel Johnson

"Tourists don't know where they've been. Travelers don't know where they're going."
--Paul Theroux

"Not all those who wander are lost."
--J.R.R Token

"On a summit the entire world is beneath us, horizons are expanded, and clarity envelops our senses. It is this feeling that the mountaineer seeks, and perhaps it is the feeling that we all seek as we search for love and purpose in our own measured lives. In reaching for the summits of the heart and holding on to them, love and hope transcend the tragedy of our ultimate end." Jennifer Lowe-Anker

Alaska

Alaska

Devils Tower

Devils Tower

Nepal

Nepal

Sunday, May 1, 2011

I'm alive and ski-mountaineering the French and Swiss Alps!

No idea how this happened, but I have no broken bones, just nasty scars and nightmares! Whohoo! Therefore, after a few weeks of pain induced by Mt. Shasta, I became myself again. In other words, I began to look for the next big adrenaline-filled adventure.....

What better way to celebrate the end of the ski season then in the most sublimely elegant, yet rugged place on earth--the Alps! Stretching from Austria and Slovenia in the east through Italy, Switzerland, Lichtenstein and Germany to France in the west, it is quite the mountain range.

My fellow mountaineer, Catherine, and I decided to make our way to Europe in hopes of experiencing the famous Haute Route that begins in Argentiere, France and ends in Zermatt, Switzerland. After a lengthy flight from LAX to Geneva, a beautiful two hour shuttle from Geneva to Chamonix, one day of logisitcs and a short bus ride to Argentiere, we were off.

Our highly anticipated first day on the Haute Route (via Verbier) was hell. It was a long vertical 12 hour stretch that required vexing transitions between, skinning and boot-packing. But somehow or another, we pushed through and reached the Trient Hut.

The days passed rather quickly due to the inexplicably captivating alpine scenery. I barely noticed the sweat and pain as peak after beautiful peak and couloir after beautiful couloir unfolded before my eyes and glistened under the bold European sun.

Second night was spent at the nearly empty Montfort Hut, third night was at the also nearly empty Prafleuri Hut, fourth night was at the packed Dix hut and the last night...well it was suppose to be at the Vignettes Hut...but to no surprise, things didn't quite go as planned and we made are way to the city of Arolla instead. Weather didn't seem conducive to muscling through two long days to Zermatt, so we decided to play it safe and duck out.

After a near death experience on Mt. Shasta, I didn't want to risk another injury. I guess Shasta really was a blessing in disguise. It taught me to respect the sublimity of mountains.

Emergency Room!!!

My adventures have suddenly come to a halt after a miserable evening in the emergency room.....let me fill you in on the last couple of weeks....

After my fill of Utah, I drove north to an eclectic town called Livingston, MT about 30 minutes east of Bozeman. Livingston is a great place to be if you love the burly Montanan wilderness, don't crave food post 10pm on a weekend night, and if you know a man name Ryan Von Luit. Ryan is the ultimate mountaineer Yoda. He radiates with knowledge, which is why I'm so pleased to see it shared through his company, Outdoor Safety Institute (http://www.outdoorsafetyinstitute.com/).

Ryan took Cody and I on an epic back-country ski adventure up Emigrant peak (10,921ft). After a solid 4,000ft ascent, we found a lovely stash of snow to ski down. Once we reached the car, we made our way to Chico Hot Springs Resort and Spa. For an entry fee of $5, I melted away quad pain as I submerged into the comfort of 120 degree water.

The following day, we made a significantly shorter ascent (approximately 2,000ft) to an unknown peak about 45 minutes outside of Livingston. The ice luge section of our descent was certainly entertaining to ski down, but quite challenging at the same time. Split boarders beware!

After a few days of relaxing touristy fun, we attacked Bridgier Bowls' side-country terrain. It was a freezing, icy day, which inspired us to go find more back-country stashes and pure Montanan solitude. We decided to hit up Emigrant peak again. This time, the mountains granted us an abundance of powder, which encouraged us to climb a bit higher and hit a few more turns on the way down. The only drawback were my goggles, which had frozen during the ascent and were thus of no visual use on the descent. I made the 4,000ft plus descent with my eyes closed. It was not an ideal situation.

It was hard to leave Montana, but my climbing partner and I eventually made our way to Mt Shasta where we imprudently decided to conquer the 14,162 ft beast the next day. Outfitted in a black diamond ice axe, black diamond crampons and brand new Kayland mountaineering boots, I thought I was adequately prepared for our one day, 7,000ft ascent.


We left at 3am, seemingly impervious to the strong head winds that were blowing ice chunks at us. Our crampons screeched in the ice as no snow had graced the mountain since December. Needless to say, my climbing partner and I did not listen to the mountain. We kept going, eager to slay the summit.

As noon approached, we were in between the top of Red Banks and the base of Misery Hill at approximately 13,000ft. We could not keep pace due to the icy conditions and headwinds and thus decided to turn around as we would not be able to summit and make it back before nightfall.

The down climb was uncomfortably treacherous. The sun did very little to ease the slippery daggers of ice that covered the mountain (see picture to the right of this paragraph). Just below the top of Red Banks, my left crampon slipped, my self-arrest didn't hold and I slid down the steep grated face of Mt.Shasta for about a 1,000ft until I reached the bottom of the Heart.

According to my partner, I slid down about 200ft directly into a boulder, went limp, then proceeded to somersault my way down until I was out of sight 400ft from the start of the fall. My partner assumed I was either unconscious or dead as he followed a trail of gear and blood before reaching my mangled body about 45 minutes later.

To his surprise as well as mine, I was hurt, in shock, yet conscious. After being able to wiggle my fingers and toes, a small painful sigh of relief escaped my lips. 9 horrifyingly long hours later, we reached our car and anxiously made our way to the emergency room.