(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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