Did I say treeless? Oops. Here are two.
The plott hound sniffing the wind.
A cold morning. Yesterday's skiff has melted off down low. The trail runs on to the north for miles.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Jumbo
Mt. Jumbo is one of the broad-shouldered treeless (and homeless) mountains that back Missoula. It's a 10-minute walk from our frontdoor to the base of the mountain.
Did I say treeless? Oops. Here are two.
The plott hound sniffing the wind.
A cold morning. Yesterday's skiff has melted off down low. The trail runs on to the north for miles.
Did I say treeless? Oops. Here are two.
The plott hound sniffing the wind.
A cold morning. Yesterday's skiff has melted off down low. The trail runs on to the north for miles.
Monday, November 16, 2009
BC in BC
With me unemployed and Laura looking at a three-day weekend, we decided to get out of town. We went to British Columbia.
We drove past the Missions.
And then Flathead Lake.
We camped at a still-open state park near Eureka, a half-hour shy of the border. On Friday morning, under lightly-snowing skies, we crossed into Canada and went to Fernie.
We toured downtown and took a short hike before heading over a quite snowy Kootenay Pass to Salmo and then on to Nelson, where we gave in and spent $74 on the cheapest hotel we could find. I love BC, but man, is it expensive. The cheap combo meal at A&W is nearly $10, and gas rang in at about $4.40 a gallon.
Pretty place, though.
In the morning we headed up to Whitewater ski area, which was closed but sporting a few inches of new snow and a parking lot half-full with locals skiing, hiking and sledding. Laura took a short cross-country tour while I skinned up to overlook Ymir Bowl.
Parties toured higher. There was about a half-meter at the base and a meter or more at 6,500 feet -- enough to ski, but not enough to venture into the rocky bowls.
This party went halfway up The Nose before dropping in.
With it still snowing lightly we went back to Nelson to visit its great coffee house, Oso Negro. Nelson is truly a spectacular town but we did not want to blow more money on sketchy hotel rooms, so we drove back to Whitewater, this time in heavy snow, and camped in the parking lot. The wind blew all night long.
In the morning we headed down to Salmo and then up Kootenay Pass, the highest "all-use year-round paved road in BC," or so the sign at the summit stated.
With light snow and low visibility our few ours on the summit was more a tour than a ski, but I did get in some turns.
We crossed into Idaho south of Creston, stopped for a coffee in Sandpoint, and took a swing by Lookout Pass, which had just opened for the season.
Back home by 7, happy and tired.
We drove past the Missions.
And then Flathead Lake.
We camped at a still-open state park near Eureka, a half-hour shy of the border. On Friday morning, under lightly-snowing skies, we crossed into Canada and went to Fernie.
We toured downtown and took a short hike before heading over a quite snowy Kootenay Pass to Salmo and then on to Nelson, where we gave in and spent $74 on the cheapest hotel we could find. I love BC, but man, is it expensive. The cheap combo meal at A&W is nearly $10, and gas rang in at about $4.40 a gallon.
Pretty place, though.
In the morning we headed up to Whitewater ski area, which was closed but sporting a few inches of new snow and a parking lot half-full with locals skiing, hiking and sledding. Laura took a short cross-country tour while I skinned up to overlook Ymir Bowl.
Parties toured higher. There was about a half-meter at the base and a meter or more at 6,500 feet -- enough to ski, but not enough to venture into the rocky bowls.
This party went halfway up The Nose before dropping in.
With it still snowing lightly we went back to Nelson to visit its great coffee house, Oso Negro. Nelson is truly a spectacular town but we did not want to blow more money on sketchy hotel rooms, so we drove back to Whitewater, this time in heavy snow, and camped in the parking lot. The wind blew all night long.
In the morning we headed down to Salmo and then up Kootenay Pass, the highest "all-use year-round paved road in BC," or so the sign at the summit stated.
With light snow and low visibility our few ours on the summit was more a tour than a ski, but I did get in some turns.
We crossed into Idaho south of Creston, stopped for a coffee in Sandpoint, and took a swing by Lookout Pass, which had just opened for the season.
Back home by 7, happy and tired.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Waiting for Winter
It seems to get a few degrees colder every day. We've had snow every few days now for the past 10 days, but always less than an inch and it always melts off pretty quickly.
The job hunt continues, but there's only so much to apply for. That means plenty of time to hike.
Attempted to follow the Mt. Jumbo ridgeline to Sheep Mountain yesterday. All we found were deer and a trail which disappeared. But I think now I know where to go ...
Rattlesnake from Jumbo
Lower Rattlesnake National Historic District
North summit of Sentinel Peak
Missoula on a snowy morning
The job hunt continues, but there's only so much to apply for. That means plenty of time to hike.
Attempted to follow the Mt. Jumbo ridgeline to Sheep Mountain yesterday. All we found were deer and a trail which disappeared. But I think now I know where to go ...
Rattlesnake from Jumbo
Lower Rattlesnake National Historic District
North summit of Sentinel Peak
Missoula on a snowy morning
Monday, November 9, 2009
So Long, Scarpa; Hello, Bitterroot
Before we went to South America last year I bought a new pair of telemark boots. My old pair was still in good condition but was nearly nine seasons old. The problem was, if anything went wrong in South America I knew ahead of time there was no place down there to pick up something new or repair broken telemark gear. So in July I went to REI in Houston and picked up a new pair of Scarpa T2 boots for $569. Yep, I paid full price.
(Stuart Peak; 11/9/09)
The Scarpa plastic boots revolutionized telemark skiing. They first came out in the early 1990s. At about that time I bought a pair of Heidelberg leather telemark boots at a ski swap in Salt Lake City in 1991 and used them for just two years before getting a used pair of Scarpas at a different ski swap. I used those boots until 2000, when the plastic tore. I sold both the leather boots and the old Scarpas at a ski swap and picked up a new pair of Scarpas at REI for $359 (yep, I paid full price again) in Salt Lake City while on my way down to Elk Meadows to go skiing for Utah.com. Those old blue boots were fantastic.
(Sheep Mountain: boots, Plott hound, backpack; 11/9/09)
This summer, when we returned from our trip, I placed the old Scarpas on Craigslist in Houston, and got exactly one queery (from, it later turned out, a guy in Vermont). When I pulled the trailer up to Missoula from Houston I stuck the old pair in with the other baggage at the last minute. If nothing else, I figured, I could sell them for a hundred bucks or so.
(Bear Creek; 11/7/09)
I stuck the boots on Craigslist once I got here and again got no response. Then on Saturday came the SOS ski swap at Big Sky High, and I figured I ought to consign them there. So on Saturday morning Laura and I drove over, waited in line for a few minutes, and signed them up for the Sunday sale. SOS takes 20 percent, so I priced them at $120. Then, we went to the Bitterroot.
(Near Hamilton; 11/7/09)
The Bitterroot is a valley, river, mountain range and string of towns, all of which begins about 10 miles south of Missoula and runs for some 50 miles south to the Idaho line at Lost Trail Pass. I'd applied for a reporting job in Hamilton, the biggest town in the area, and we wanted to check out the area some more. So we got a coffee and headed south on US 93.
(Laura in Bear Creek, Bitterroots; 11/7/09)
Once you get past the turnoff for Lolo, the highway is marked every few miles with brown signs. The signs either point to the left, where there are access points along the river, or right, where there are roads heading to the base of the mountains. We picked a random trailhead called Bear Creek and followed the road up a few miles until the trailhead.
(Near Hamilton; 11/7/09)
The Bitterroot Mountains are fairly easy to describe. They are massive, both in scale and physical size. They are untouched: there are a few trails which pierce the canyons and then, like the one we took up Bear Creek, seem to wither away. And they are practically devoid of people.
(Bugs at work in Bear Creek; 11/7/09)
The bulk of the mountains lie in the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness Area. Along with national parks, the creation and support of wilderness is one of the great American inventions. Managed by the federal government and owned collectively and equally by all Americans, wilderness areas are free to use by everyone and anyone, with two real caveats: you can only hike or ski in, and there can be no permanent structures. (I wonder how many people decrying America's "socialism" these days also think about national parks? Would they destroy national parks, too?) The Selway-Bitterroot contains 1.3 million acres. It is separated from the adjacent 2.4-million acre Frank Church/River of No Return Wilderness by a dirt road with a 600-foot right of way. And the Frank Church directly joins the 205,000-acre Gospel Hump Wilderness.
We hiked for four hours in light snow before reemerging at the truck. We drove through Hamilton (nice) before heading back to Missoula.
(Sheep Mountain, Rattlesnakes; 11/9/09)
On Sunday we were up early and at the ski swap by 10:30 a.m. We were not there nearly early enough, though. The swap opened at 10, and I learned later that 600 people filed through the doors in the first 10 minutes. Already, by 11 a.m., we were poking around the dregs of the sale. I picked up some ski area trail maps and some stickers and we decided to go. There, on the telemark table, were my lonely boots.
I had started thinking a lot about my boots, and was pretty sad to think about selling them. I had skied with them in some of the most amazing mountains in North America: Rogers Pass, Banff, Kicking Horse, Whistler, Whitewater, Lolo, the Cascades, Lake Tahoe, the Sierra, the Stansburys, the Wasatch, the Smokies (!), &c.
(Sheep Mountain, Rattlesnakes; 11/9/09)
Home from the swap we had lunch, cleaned around the house, went on a short hike, and at 5 I went back to Big Sky High to pick up my boots. I looked through piles of sad unsold gear -- and piles, and piles, and piles. Where were the boots? I went back again and looked. Nothing. Finally I went up to the sales counter and showed them my receipt. The girl there flipped through a stack of receipts and held mine up. "Yep," she said, "someone bought 'em."
How about that?
(Stuart Peak; 11/9/09)
The Scarpa plastic boots revolutionized telemark skiing. They first came out in the early 1990s. At about that time I bought a pair of Heidelberg leather telemark boots at a ski swap in Salt Lake City in 1991 and used them for just two years before getting a used pair of Scarpas at a different ski swap. I used those boots until 2000, when the plastic tore. I sold both the leather boots and the old Scarpas at a ski swap and picked up a new pair of Scarpas at REI for $359 (yep, I paid full price again) in Salt Lake City while on my way down to Elk Meadows to go skiing for Utah.com. Those old blue boots were fantastic.
(Sheep Mountain: boots, Plott hound, backpack; 11/9/09)
This summer, when we returned from our trip, I placed the old Scarpas on Craigslist in Houston, and got exactly one queery (from, it later turned out, a guy in Vermont). When I pulled the trailer up to Missoula from Houston I stuck the old pair in with the other baggage at the last minute. If nothing else, I figured, I could sell them for a hundred bucks or so.
(Bear Creek; 11/7/09)
I stuck the boots on Craigslist once I got here and again got no response. Then on Saturday came the SOS ski swap at Big Sky High, and I figured I ought to consign them there. So on Saturday morning Laura and I drove over, waited in line for a few minutes, and signed them up for the Sunday sale. SOS takes 20 percent, so I priced them at $120. Then, we went to the Bitterroot.
(Near Hamilton; 11/7/09)
The Bitterroot is a valley, river, mountain range and string of towns, all of which begins about 10 miles south of Missoula and runs for some 50 miles south to the Idaho line at Lost Trail Pass. I'd applied for a reporting job in Hamilton, the biggest town in the area, and we wanted to check out the area some more. So we got a coffee and headed south on US 93.
(Laura in Bear Creek, Bitterroots; 11/7/09)
Once you get past the turnoff for Lolo, the highway is marked every few miles with brown signs. The signs either point to the left, where there are access points along the river, or right, where there are roads heading to the base of the mountains. We picked a random trailhead called Bear Creek and followed the road up a few miles until the trailhead.
(Near Hamilton; 11/7/09)
The Bitterroot Mountains are fairly easy to describe. They are massive, both in scale and physical size. They are untouched: there are a few trails which pierce the canyons and then, like the one we took up Bear Creek, seem to wither away. And they are practically devoid of people.
(Bugs at work in Bear Creek; 11/7/09)
The bulk of the mountains lie in the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness Area. Along with national parks, the creation and support of wilderness is one of the great American inventions. Managed by the federal government and owned collectively and equally by all Americans, wilderness areas are free to use by everyone and anyone, with two real caveats: you can only hike or ski in, and there can be no permanent structures. (I wonder how many people decrying America's "socialism" these days also think about national parks? Would they destroy national parks, too?) The Selway-Bitterroot contains 1.3 million acres. It is separated from the adjacent 2.4-million acre Frank Church/River of No Return Wilderness by a dirt road with a 600-foot right of way. And the Frank Church directly joins the 205,000-acre Gospel Hump Wilderness.
We hiked for four hours in light snow before reemerging at the truck. We drove through Hamilton (nice) before heading back to Missoula.
(Sheep Mountain, Rattlesnakes; 11/9/09)
On Sunday we were up early and at the ski swap by 10:30 a.m. We were not there nearly early enough, though. The swap opened at 10, and I learned later that 600 people filed through the doors in the first 10 minutes. Already, by 11 a.m., we were poking around the dregs of the sale. I picked up some ski area trail maps and some stickers and we decided to go. There, on the telemark table, were my lonely boots.
I had started thinking a lot about my boots, and was pretty sad to think about selling them. I had skied with them in some of the most amazing mountains in North America: Rogers Pass, Banff, Kicking Horse, Whistler, Whitewater, Lolo, the Cascades, Lake Tahoe, the Sierra, the Stansburys, the Wasatch, the Smokies (!), &c.
(Sheep Mountain, Rattlesnakes; 11/9/09)
Home from the swap we had lunch, cleaned around the house, went on a short hike, and at 5 I went back to Big Sky High to pick up my boots. I looked through piles of sad unsold gear -- and piles, and piles, and piles. Where were the boots? I went back again and looked. Nothing. Finally I went up to the sales counter and showed them my receipt. The girl there flipped through a stack of receipts and held mine up. "Yep," she said, "someone bought 'em."
How about that?
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