Friday, September 4, 2009

Inaugural trip to California



Back in the beginning of the summer of 2008, I was brainstorming for some solid ideas for a weeklong trip. What I came up with had to be broken up into two different trips, I just needed to figure out how to sneak that in to my work schedule. I had plenty of vacation days anyway. My first trip was a mountain climbing extravaganza down in the Weminuche Wilderness region of the San Juan Mountain Range. Myself, along with my two good buddies, Kiefer Thomas and Chris Ferraro, rode the Durango-Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad into Elk Park and within the next 6 days, we climbed 14 peaks in 3 different basins and ended with a night of debauchery in Durango to cap off, to date, the best trip of my young life.

I had another week of work before I packed my bags for my first trip to California. I remember that being the longest week of my life, but thursday rolled around soon enough and I was checking my bags at Frontier, headed for San Jose. I arrived to a typical California sunset, with rows of palm trees lining the foothills. My friend, Pirani, who I know from back East, picked me up in his Dakota and we made way for his "house" in Santa Cruz. It was all kind of surreal and exciting. We, or atleast I, had aggressive plans to hike 120 miles of the John Muir Trail from Florence Lake all the way to Mt.Whitney and then link up public transportation on our way back to Fresno. It took a lot of planning, but somehow, I was able to put it all together and Pirani and his Dakota would be both my companion and means of transportation.

We had a few drinks around Santa Cruz that night, ate some dinner at the wharf and got supplies for the next few days. His place was actually his girlfriend's, Heather, who lived right off route 1 near Watsonville. She lived in a geodesic dome with no extra places to sleep, so she and Pirani set up a 10-person tent in the backyard with a mattress and the works. It was cool and strange at the same time. Here I am, in what seems like a foreign country, I haven't really gotten my bearings straight yet and so far, I saw a bunch of seals making ungodly sounds at the wharf, realized how thick fog can really get and am sleeping in a tent in the back of a geodesic dome, right off the highway in Santa Cruz. I'd always envisioned California to be a strange place, this just confirmed my suspicions.

We woke up pretty early and made out way for Fresno with a layer of fog blanketing the landscape. As Pirani's Dakota climbed the hills separating the coast from the inland, it cleared up, as did the vegetation, it was definately a unique drive. We passed through fruit farm after fruit farm, which was cool. I think our packs were significantly heavier due to the abundance of apples, peaches and tangerines. We reach Fresno and hit up the local REI to get last minute supplies en route to Florence Lake. I noticed that Fresno was still well under 1000 feet, so the brunt of our climbing had yet to happen. Once we left town, the altitude immediately began to climb and before we knew it, we plateau'd out at 6,000 feet. We passed through the villages of Shaver and Huntington Lake and, after obtaining permits from the ranger station, reached the parking lot at Florence Lake as the sun was setting. I was hoping to average over 30 miles a day, with 3 mountains to climb in between, so we konked out pretty early.








Florence Lake


Alarm went off around 8am, since we couldn't really go anywhere till the boat shuttle ran at 9am, saved us quite a bit of time. We hadn't gotten much sleep due to a posse of Eastern Europeans arriving into camp around midnight the night before, starting a huge bonfire right next to our camp and playing music as loud as possible. I'm all about a good time in the mountains, but these guys were a bunch of assclowns. Pirani's way of getting back at them was to blare his car alarm for a couple minutes, I guess we showed them. Anyways, we paid the 10$ for the launch, got our stuff on the boat and were off. It was an unorthodox start to a hike on a motor boat like this, but I looked at it as a good thing. We were dropped off at the opposite shore, put our packs on our backs and were officially off. I didn't obtain a map for this section of the trail, since we weren't officially on the JMT just yet. I had a Kings Canyon/Sequioa Nat'l Park map, so we were essentially winging it at this point. Luckily, there was an obvious trail heading towards the direction we needed to go, plus ample trail signs and people along the way. Everyone we passed laughed at our agenda, but I knew my fitness level and ability at this point. 30 miles a day along relatively flat land, compared to the jagged mountains I had dealt with a week before in Colorado would feel like nothing, atleast to me. I'd always knew Pirani as a fit person, being a wrestler and lacrosse player throughout high school and college. I guess his sales job selling diesel generators had him travelling on the road a lot so he didn't have as much time to stay active. He had acquired a nice gut to boot, but I figured he's a stubborn guy and wouldn't let me know he was defeated.




A couple hours after our departure, we reached the John Muir Wilderness, Kings Canyon boundary. We took a quick break at the river crossing and then continued on. The hike weaved in through, around and up canyon after canyon, but for the most part, the hike was pretty mellow. As we neared Evolution Lake, we found a campsite, off the trail, right next to the river, guarded on each side by a decent sized boulder, as well as a tree to hang food and wet clothes. Pirani was pretty tired and I began to wonder if he'd make it the entire way. I was so focused on the agenda, I hadn't even fathomed we wouldn't make it. But his current condition was a concern, we both agreed to play it by ear. He next day, we moved camp further down trail and got our first glimpse of Evolution Basin, a place I greatly aniticipated. It did not dispoint. It was at this juncture where we reassessed Pirani's energy level and out progress. We weren't really behind in terms of mileage, but Pirani was struggling a good deal. After a lengthy discussion, we both agreed to just set up camp along the shores of the lake, enjoy the region and make our way back casually to the car. I really wanted Whitney, but at the same time, I figured I've never spent time in California, so anything we did would be new for me anyways and I was fine with that.



This was our view outside our tent, basically, and the water was surprisingly bareable. There were some cliffs to jump off, mountains nearby to climb up and not many crowds, everyone was spread out around the rim of the lake. This was around 35 miles from our starting point and it felt every bit as secluded from the rest of the universe, it was a remarkable place and worth the price of admission. I will surely be back someday.

The next day we woke up casually, hung out by the lake and eventually made our way back towards the car. We reached our campsite from the previous night and decided to just konk out around there for one last night before we reach civilization. Had I remembered this was still 20 miles from the car, I would've tried to get a lot closer. That aside, we had a nice sunset in the canyon that allowed us to forget that reality.







Not a bad place to call home for a night






The slog back to the car was rough on Pirani's very well being. As we neared the docks to catch the last launch of the day, Pirani reached survival mode, he was hurtin', which made me feel that much better about our decision to turn around. I decided to jog the last 3-4 miles to ensure we flag the boat down, and what do you know, as I crest the hill and the Florence Lake finally comes into view, a boat is floating across the lake in the distance. Just as the captain was untying the ropes to head back for the day, I was able to get his attention to wait. Luckily, Pirani, somehow, wasn't too far behind, we only had to wait maybe 10-15 minutes and the only other people were a bunch of hikers, so they understood and weren't impatient. We reached the docks near the parking lot soon after and I took one last dip in the Lake to wash off all the grit before our drive back to Fresno. We found a solid burger/milkshake stand off the road around Shaver Lake, fueled back up and found a cheap hotel in Fresno, as the hour was getting late and we were both pretty worn out.


Santa Cruz sunet



The next couple days were spent hanging around Santa Cruz, shooting paintball guns at the beach, eating seafood along the wharf, checking out Redwood Forest State Park and relaxing. I remembered my Uncle Mike and Aunt Stacey lived just north of San Fransisco and that I hadn't seen him in a while. I gave them a call and they welcomed me with open arms. Pirani and I headed to Novato thursday night and had a great seafood dinner on the banks of Sausalito. The next day, while they worked, Pirani and I hung out around the city, had some food and parted ways. Saturday, Stacey took me to a hike along the coast around the town of Point Reyes.




Pacific Ocean coastline outside Pt.Reyes Nat'l Seashore

It was a solid day, I'd never seen the Pacific Ocean from this vantage point, truly a dramatic site. That night, the two of them spoiled me over some surf n' turf at the Wharf District of downtown San Francisco at some restaurant in the shape of a cruiseliner, can't remember the name of it. I got a whole bunch of San Fran memorabilia, enough for someone to suspect me to be gay, but whatever, I was just being a tourist.

The next day, we got yet another early start (isn't this supposed to be vacation?) and explored wine country just north of their house in Napa. They took me to Stag's Leap, Pine Ridge and another one up North, which happened to be Stacey's favorite. Stacey was a wine aficiandao and as Mike talked to the pourers about BMWs, we drank glass after glass (no spitting).


Stacey and Michael in front of the last winery we checked out, concluding my Cali trip.

Mike dropped me off at the San Jose airport in the M3, we said our goodbyes and I was on my way back to Denver, capping off an interesting trip. What I thought was supposed to be a strictly backpacking week, turned out to be a tour of the entire coast, from Monterrey all the way up to Napa Valley. It was everything I thought it would be and more and I look foward to returning in the near future. I can see the appeal of California now.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

A note on Gear

This is a shot of my basement, which is home to all my beloved belongings. This was an all-day project which I completed while unemployed.


With me being new to html, I don't expect many people to read this or if they do, agree or disagree with me or find this informative. My main focus was to setup an adshare account and see if online advertising is all its cracked up to be, in the meantime, creating some thought provoking "blogs". Most of the opinions regarding gear in this post are either somewhat biased or based on my own personal experiences.


Since moving to Colorado in 2006, my gear wardrobe has taken on many shapes and sizes. I used to be normal in the sense that a day out in the hills meant a shirt on my back - one to keep me warm in the morning and one to keep me cool later in the day - a pair of pants or shorts from the goodwill or even Target, if I felt like hikin with class, a pair of old Timberland hiking boots, a 3.2 megapixel digital camera and a backpack from Jansport that I once used to carry books around in college, but now to hold a water bottle, some pringles, sunscreen, sunglasses, a compass, a map and a rain shell. Nowadays, my gear taken on a new dimension in price, technology, variety, seasonal, etc. The list goes on. I went from any old shirt, to a synthetic shirt that is both breathable, yet, at the same time, can keep me warm, "wicking" any moisture away. My pants range from convertible, where I can unzip them from my knee cap down, to gortex for those rainy days and most importantly, multi-layered for those cold days on the slopes. The water I carry is no longer carried in an old, scratched up gatorade bottle, but rather a water reservoir that conveniently stowes away in a compartment in my backpack. The food I bring is lighter and high in carb and fat content, the suncreen went from 30 spf to 50 or above, my sunglasses are polarized, rain shells highly waterproof yet somehow breathable and I actually know how to read a map and compass. My digital camera doubled in megapixels but somehow, remained the same in price and of course, my new packs are able to accomodate all this stuff and more and remarkably, the weight feels like there is nothing on my back.


Packs



Let me start by listing every single piece of gear I own and then breaking the more important pieces down later. For the summer season, I own 2 Gregory packs. The biggest pack I own is a 80 liter Gregory Palisade. Its uses range from mutli-day summer, and winter, trips, to plane trips, international trips and something as simple as consolidating all the crap in the back of my truck. The other Gregory I own is a Gregory Iso 18L daypack. I use this for casual days out in the foothills, quick assaults on mountains or I roll it up and store in my Palisade for summit days on multi-day trips. Since it is designed without "stays", its very compactible and easy to store, not to mention feather weight. For early summer, on days that require extra gear and possibly some crampons/ice axe, I use the always reliable Osprey Kestral (38 liters). This is probably the best all-around pack I own, not to mention my favorite. The enlarged hipbelt pockets and mesh kangaroo pouch in the front are great features, not to mention it basically molds to my back. On a number of occassions, I've used this pack for overnighters and it worked admirably.


On to my favorite season : spring. The burliest pack I own has got to be the Deuter Guide 45 liter. I found this guy on sale at Neptune Mountaineering in Boulder back in 2007 and kind of wondered what I really needed it for. Finally, around the winter of 08-09, I nabbed an AT ski setup off ebay and everything fell into place, more or less. The 110mm underfoot Icelantic skis I own fit to the pack like they were made for it, A-frame style. The interior holds my helmet, beacon, probe, extra layers, food and H2O with room to spare and the shoulder straps are the most forgiving and comfortable of all the Deuter packs I've owned. I can easily see this pack lasting well into my 40's, hopefully by then I'll have some ski descents to write home about.


Tents



Setting up camp at Cathedral Lake Trailhead, Aspen.

The tent is, argueably, the most important piece of gear for any sort of overnight trip in the backcountry. When travelling with a buddy, you always try and figure out who is going to carry the tent and who is carrying the food. The higher end tent companies, such as Hilleberg, Nemo, MSR and Bibler, have found ways to make state of the art fabric that is both extremely light and to the naked eye, looks fragile, but in reality, is nearly indestructible. I've always made a conscious effort to find a reasonably priced, 4-season tent, all over the internet, but everytime I find one, I'm broke. After all this researching and scurrying around, I've managed to land myself your standard, easy to setup, reasonably reliable REI brand tent. I own a REI half-dome, 2-person, 3-season tent, which is composed of the tent, 6 titanium stakes, poles and a fly. The design's biggest success is it's simplicity. This little guy has made it through all 4 seasons, including wind gusts up to 70 mph on Berthoud Pass and the Boulder Field of Longs Peak in the middle of January, countless 5+ day trips throughout The San Juan Range and the Indian Peaks Wilderness, as well as simple summer overnighters and car camping parties (with some hot coal scars to boot!). Despite the warning from just about every REI employee at the Flagship store in Denver that this guy wouldn't hold up to any sort of winter condition, the half-dome has exceeded any sort of expectation I might've had for it. Its probably my most cherished piece of gear and I will be very sad to see it go down the road.

My other tent is a 1-person, 3-season, Mountain Hardware Meridian, which is used more sparingly since my days of solo ascents have significantly decreased. That being said, it does have it vital uses and is half the weight of my 2-person. Its a true 1-person, I can barely fit into it lying down on my stomach. Its more notable uses were a 3 day trek through the Lost Canyon region of Canyonlands National Park, a 4 day trek through Salt Creek Canyon of Canyonlands and a number of different car camping nights at trailheads when I'd rather sprawl out in a tent than scrunch up in the back of my Xterra.

Sleeping Bags

On my first real backcountry overnighter in Colorado, back in 2006, I was equiped with a 40 liter Kelty pack I bought from a tax-free outpost in an Indian Reservation outside Lander, Wyoming, a Hillary brand tent I bought from Sears, a bulky monstrosity of a sleeping bag I bought from Dick's, well before I knew what "down fill" meant and way too little food. I was making an attempt at Capitol Peak, outside Snowmass and joined a friend of the family for a dayhike up the Capitol Lake trail. The hike was beautiful and awe inspiring, my pack just the opposite. I didn't have enough room for my summit pack, so I strapped it across the front of my chest, it was surely an ugly (and amateur) sight. I vaguely remember passing a guy on the way in with half as much gear as I had, a much smaller pack and nothing was hanging out and he was trucking down the trail. I also vaguely remember thinking to myself that one day, I'll travel in a similar fashion.

Fast foward a couple years and I've picked up on a thing or two here and there. I had the pack and tent category taken care of, I just needed to travel even a little smarter with a lighter, more comfortable bag. At first, I didn't understand why a bag smaller than the ones I was used to, cost so much more, but as I did my research, the reality began to make sense. In the sleeping bag industry, there is an option known as "fillpower" ranging anywhere from 500 all the way up to 900. The rule of thumb is the higher the rating, the more true to the temperature rating the bag is, as well as the higher the quality of the down material. I remember looking at my Dicks down bag and not even seeing a rating. It was a Coleman, so I wasn't all that surprised. When I took that first step into the REI Flagship in Denver, I was a bit overwhelmed. I was in store for a better sleeping bag, I just didn't know which one was for me. A note on bags. I've camped with people who sleep in a -20 Western Mountaineering, fully clothed and a liner and still manage to get cold. I've also camped with a 6'5 250 pound ACC lineman who slept in a 600 fill, 15 degree Marmot bag in the middle of winter on a snowy, windy mountain pass and was sweating. In general, sleeping bag ratings are relative to the person using them, so for arguments sake, I'll give you my dimensions, comfort level and the bags I've grown accustomed to and go from there.


Like I mentioned before, I've always been a huge fan of economically feasible purchases. I spend within the means of my existence, for the most part. The outdoor retail company, REI, came up with the greatest idea since sliced bread : The Return Policy. Flashback to the spring of 2007, I had an old ski jacket with a broken zipper sitting in a dusty old storage bin in my basement and decided to get it fixed. I took it to the customer service desk at the Lakewood REI and asked what they could do for me. They pulled up my account and mentioned it was listed under my membership and that I could receive a full refund despite not having a receipt, it helped a bit that this exact jacket line was recalled anyway. I was beside myself with joy as one of those light bulbs that go off in Beavis and Butthead's brain every once in a while went off in my head ; a phenomenon was born.

The relevance of this reality has a lot to do with the chronological evolution of my sleeping bags. As I mentioned before, I owned a Coleman "0 degree" from Dick's. Well soon after this one made its way to the goodwill, I found a REI brand, 20 degree bag that weighed less than my pinky. I quickly realized this was too good to be true. While REI brand name gear is above average in quality, there is a flipside to that coin. Where they thrived in the weight department, they lacked in the bulk department. Most standard bags have a width of 62-66in' around the shoulders and 58-62in' around the hip. REI saves weight by shortening these lengths, making it pretty cramped for bulkier people. This was disheartening at first, but as I did more research, I learned that companies like Marmot and Mountain Hardware don't necesarily specialize in outdoor apparell, but rather in the bags. My first purchase was a zero degree, Marmot bag, called the Couloir. It was my first experience with 800-fill down material, was surprisingly packable and kept me quite warm in sub-zero temperatures throughout Colorado in the dead of winter. Not too long after, I learned Marmot had developed an even better invention : an 850+ fillpower bag, better known as the Helium. I quickly traded the Couloir in for the Helium and had money to spare, which was reassuring. The Helium was a 15 degree bag, but was lighter than most summer bags made for 35+ degrees. To compliment the Marmot, I needed something that would better suite me for the summer months, since 15 degrees proved to be too warm. I read a little bit about Mountain Hardware's phantom series and ended up with their 32 degree bag, which weighed less than the REI 20 degree, but still had enough width for my wider frame. To make a long story short, this has become my top 5 most cherished pieces of gear.






Skis


I've found that someone can never have too many skis. I find myself holding on to a lot of my old skis, out of nostalgia or being sentimental or simply unable to sell them, the collection, as yo can see, is piling up in my basement. Back in 2006, I bought my first pair of parabolic skis, some Dynastar Legend 4800 that weren't much longer than 165cm. To me that meant nothing other than the fact that I thought moguls would be easier, as would turning in general. They were fun to play around with, but on powder days, they sunk to the bottom and I was constantly falling foward on my face all day.


Ski Mountaineering up Mt.Evans


Next season, I basically upgraded to a pair of Legend 8000's, wider dimensions and 9 more centimeters of length. They were true "all-mountain" skis and I was convinced they made me a better skier. The floated in the deep stuff, handled the bumps with ease, were light but very durable and fit my frame perfectly. Its as if they were made for me. I believed this until I started taking them on backcountry adventures around the Front Range. The conditions you usually face in the backcountry is crust, hardpacked snow, your typical sastrugi nightmare. Sometimes, in the case of our excursion down in Lake City on Uncompaghre Peak, if feels as if you are skiing on coral reef. A fall on this type of surface would hurt to say the least and I did not feel 100% stable on my Legends. I searched long and hard, spanning many different sites including REI outlet, craigslist, Evogear.com, Backcountry.com, local ski shops and all their clearances. Upon my first visit to Ebay, I found a pair of Icelantic Nomads, which had some mind boggling wide dimensions, were equiped with some brand new Diamar Fritschi Freeride AT bindings and were being offered at a very reasonable price. I nabbed those, along with a pair of Garmont Adrenaline AT boots a week later and the floodgates were finally opened. No more lugging alpine ski gear up mountains, I could now skin up them and have the energy to ski down them somewhat gracefully. In my first season of obtaining all this gear, I was able to put it all to its first real test on the 14er, Snowmass Peak, around the beginning of May. We were able to skin up to 10,500ft, just below the lake and in the morning, found ourselves skinning through 14-16 inches of fresh snow. Avalanche dangers aside, we couldn't have asked for better snow conditions and had 3,000 feet of powder, laying down fresh tracks all the way down to the lake from just below the summit. Its moments like those that help you forget all the anguish of hauling all that gear to the top of a point on earth 14,000 feet above sea level, miles away from civilization and the cares and worries of everyday life.



Shells/Jackets


This is another category that requires a tough decision and depends a great deal where you live. If you live in the Pacific Northwest, you'll probably want something highly waterproof with some sort of insulation for those extreme winter months. This holds true for someone skiing in New England, cause there is a good chance that snow in the morning might turn to rain in the afternoon. If you don't have Gortex Pro material covering your entire body, you'll be drenched from head to toe. For Colorado, I've managed to find a happy medium, for all seasons. My go to jacket for skiing is the North Face Plasma Thermal, with a waterproof shell on the outside and a primaloft, synthetic insulation for the inside. Its perfect in the sense that all I need underneath is a short sleeve t-shirt and it has pitzips on either side for warmer, winter days. When spring rolls around, I transition to shell mode. Depending on the weather that day, I usually wear a wicking t-shirt, long or short sleeve, with a light fleece on top and a light, waterproof shell on top of that. I used to believe that a 3-layered, Gortex Pro, absurdly expensive shell was the answer to all my problems, but it wasn't. While they are, by far, the burliest and most durable shells on the market, they aren't as light and packable as others. I tested out eVent products for a while and absoluely loved them, specifically the REI Shuksan jacket. It was both highly breathable, highly waterproof as well as durable, but it had one major flaw : the zippers. At first, it seemed like no big deal, but as I started to get more serious about ski mountaineering, I began to realize how it could put me in a bind. On the summit of Snowmass Peak, we were caught up in a pretty intense storm, with wind speeds quickly picking up and visibility near zero. As I sat there on the summit, curled up in a ball from the elements, I made an attempt to put my shell over my down jacket, but the zipper kept getting jammed. It finally worked, but I realized when I got home that night that this could be a serious problem had this occurred on an exposed ledge, or worse. Once again, I took advantage of the REI return policy and exchanged it for a lighter, more breathable Gortex paclite shell from Mountain Hardware, called the Typhoon. While not the best shell on the market, it suites all my personal needs perfectly and I've found myself using it for more than just ski mountaineering.


Essentials of Camping


Camping, whether car or backcountry, can become an art for some people. Nothing feels better than packing an 80 liter pack to the brim, with nothing hanging around and the weight shifting perfectly to your every movement. It makes travel that much easier. The hard part is usually trying to figure out what you need and what you don't. I'm no expert on the matter, but I do know what works, after 10 years of trial and error that is. I remember backpacking around the White Mountains in New Hampshire with an external frame, leather pack. At the time, I didn't think much of it, but looking back on those days make me appreciate a pack that won't lead you into the chiropractor following your trip. The thing I love about the Gregory Palisade is not only the amount of room it holds, but the comfort level. The straps are padded, but not too much, which can be a bad thing. It has the feel of an Arteryx pack for a hundred dollars less. When you can make adjustments on the go, you know you've made a good purchase.



Guidebooks and Nat'l Geographic waterproof maps - the key to the door of the backcountry

First things first : the essentials. You've got your tent, sleeping bag (liner optional), sleeping pad, food and cooking gear. I like the REI half-dome tent for its durability, affordability and simplicity. I like the Mountain Hardware Phamtom series bags for their warmth to weight ratio, and occasionaly I bring along my Cocoon mummy liner for extra warmth and to save a trip to the laundromat. For sleeping pads, I used to be a fan of the styrofoam thermarests, but have recently transitioned into the inflatable versions, since they are one, more comfortable and two, can be used in all seasons. Depending on the type of trip, I usually stick to a high carb, high fat diet. My most popular items are 3 cheese tortolini with smoked tabasco sauce and olive oil, sweet and hot trail mix from whole foods, crystallized ginger, cliff's shotbloks, brown rice and refried beans with chilly powder and melted cheese, white cheddar cheezits, buffalo wing flavored pretzel bites, chocolate covered espresso beans, york peppermint patties, payday and snickers bars, sour patch kids, cashews (salted and honey), nature valley bars, red bull, gatorade, green and earl grey tea bags and, given the occassion, a flask of whiskey or a 6-pack of New Belgium (cans, as well as 6 more cold ones waiting at the car). For cooking, I usually bring a collapsible MSR pot, a stove with a few cans of fuel, a water filter, a titanium spork and tea cup and the essential condiments, olive oil and tobasco. Extra gear on a backcountry trip can include a microfiber towel, if you find a nice spot to bath, a knife for both cooking and protection, pair of fleece gloves and hat, book, ipod, cards, map, compass/gps, high spf suncreen, sunglasses/goggles, crampons and ice axe/snowshoes, gaitors, ropes, rock pro, flip flops for around camp and, of course, a camera.

Car camping is a whole different beast, but still has its vital purposes. When friends come in for a quick weekend and a trip into the backcountry isn't in the cards, car camping can be a very convenient, viable alternative. Colorado has some of the greatest car camping spots I've ever seen, some secret, some not so much. Some of my favorite car camping spots are located throughout the Poudre Canyon, outside of Ft.Collins. My favorite was on a ledge overlooking the Vail Valley, on the way in to Piney Lake Ranch. To find a good spot usually requires some sort of burly, high clearance vehicle. From 2005 till 2009, I had the pleasure of owning a 2002 Nissan Xterra. While this vehicles highway capabilities are poor, its off-road are anything but. I'm proud to say I never bottomed her out and I made it up South Colony Road three times, before and after the road maintenance, to Jaws 1 on Lake Como and various roads throughout Moab, as seen in the picture. The gas mileage forced me to find another car, but this guy won't fade from memory anytime soon.



Anyways, car camping usually involves quite a bit more food and alcohol and less survival essentials. I guess the only thing to survive is not drinking too much Hot Damn 100 and falling in the firepit. That aside, the essentials of car camping are quite different from that of the backcountry. A large cooler is probably the biggest item, usually filled with beer, brats, steaks, juice, condiments and water. To cook all this, I use a standard Coleman, portable gas grill. Instead of using logs as seats, I usually bring my own, that have some sort of padding, are foldable and have a beer holder, preferably on either arm. Of course smores are a big hit, as well as bags upon bags of chips, in my case, pringles, salt n' vinegar, and occassionally Doritos.




This is the epitome of the perfect outing. After a quick, 2000 foot ski of the North Face of Mt.Evans, outside Idaho Springs, we decided to bring out the grill. Good things ensued.....



In this picture, my friends Carl Dowdy, Ben Connors and Marc Barella are making the most of a cloudy, overcast day. Carl is sporting some down booties, Ben being resourceful and using the cooler as a seat and Marc enjoying a tasty beverage from New Belgium as we wait patiently for some hot italian sausage with horseradish mustard.

Miscelaneous

This is pretty much the basics of what to know about gear. I'm sure some people might have a lot to add to this, but this covers just about everything you need to know to survive in the woods, atleast for a while. Most guidebook authors say the most important thing to bring is your brain. While I agree with that statement, this article wasn't meant to be preachy, not was it meant to be informative. That being said, guidebooks were the biggest thing that got me into the outdoors. Whether it was a Falcon Guide, Gerry Roach's 14ers, Lou Dawson's ski descents, Bill Middlebrook's 14ers.com, Summitpost.org or Dave Cooper's classic scrambles, all these played a small and large part in my passion. I began with Roach's 14er book, eventually moved on to Middlebrook's 14ers.com but eventually got sick of being spoon fed the route, but continued to stay active on the site for the forum and trip reports. I found Dawson's book a little more detail oriented and more helpful on ski descents. What Cooper lacks in route description, he makes up for in aesthetic mountains. His book helped me discover the elusive and primitive Gore Range, some secluded gems deep in the heart of the Indian Peaks, some classics out in the San Juans and even some steep scrambles in the Sawatch! Summitpost.org is probably the best thing to happen to mountaineering, spanning peaks worldwide. I've obtained 99.9% of my information regarding peaks under 13,800 feet in Colorado, as well as some Western high points and lesser known peaks and ranges. Nowadays, I've sold my Garmin GPS and rely more heavily on maps and a compass. Those National Geographic topographic waterproof maps have been a godsend for me, I study them to plan my next adventure on a weekly basis.

Since this is a work in progress, I won't end with just this, more to come later..........


Exploring some unknown regions of Rocky Mountain Nat'l Park





With summer coming to an abrupt end and a possible job oppotunity presenting itself on the horizon, I managed to find time for one last adventure, this time setting my sights on the park region, just northwest of Boulder, CO.






Wild Basin is a region of Rocky Mountain National Park, located in its southwest corner, bordering the very popular Longs Peak massif, which can see up to well over a couple thousand visitors, hikers, climbers, etc in a given summer. My objective for the day was Mt.Alice, which was deep in the heart of the basin, offering both seclusion, scenery and a fun route up an obscure peak. I first laid eyes on the peak on a combo climb in the Glaicer Gorge region, Longs deeply carved out basin to the West, easily visible from the Keyhole. While standing atop McHenry's Peak, I noticed a slithering ridge leading up to an elusive summit, which looked to be all its in its lonesome out there to the South. I would later learn this ridge to be referred to as the "Hourglass Ridge", an easy class 3 scramble to a seldom visited summit. Well, here I was, almost exactly a year later, getting my pack ready at the Wild Basin trailhead at 3am on a quiet Saturday morning.






The trail starts out just as any other national park trail would - wide, well maintained and easy to follow. With the sun slowly awakening, I made good progress for 4.2 miles to my first trail junction. It was a very quiet morning in terms of weather and crowds. I didn't hear a peep other than the flowing of the waterfalls and creeks. The sky was red and made for some nice panoramic views of the region.








The Lion Lake region was nestled under the imposing South face of Chief's Head Pk, hidden under the early morning shadow of Longs. The lakes were crystal clear blue and green, with some cascading waterfalls linked between lakes, flowing beside the faint trail. As I hiked along and passed "Trio Falls", above Lion Lake #1, I encountered my first snowfield, which was easily navigated around, gaining the slope above the falls and obtaining my first view of the gradual grassy ramp, towering over Snowbank Lake and allowing me safe passage to the saddle between Alice and Chief's Head.










As I created a small hump in the ramp, there were my first signs of other lifeforms in the area - Rams. The only places I've had the pleasure of seeing these guys are above me on Elk Mountain peaks with an abundance of loose shale, as well as the sides of I-70 during rush hour ski traffic. This was a pleasant surprise. They littered the slope and seemed to cling to the sides of the cliffs, without an ounce of fear.






Shortly after my encounter, I reached the saddle, fueled up on some trail mix and gatorade and made my final push towards the summit, along the infamous Hourglass Ridge, deemed a classic route by famous Colorado guidebook author, Gerry Roach.


The Hourglass Ridge






I reached the summit around 5 hours or so after leaving the car. It was a little long, but I had been sidetracked by the scenery and slowed down by the number of casual breaks and photo ops I took. The weather forecast had called for some mid-afternoon thunder storms, but, from what I could see from Alice's summit, all threats of weather were far enough away to enjoy a anxiety-free, gradual descent.


The Stone Man









I decided to make a loop hike out of the day and made way for the Boulder-Grand Pass, due 1.2 miles South from the summit. This was all along an alpine tundra with little to no sign of a trail. This didn't bother me for I had a mesmerizing view to the South of the Northern region of the Indian Peaks Wilderness as well as a very aesthetic perspective of the North Face of Isolation Peak, which could very well be my next objective in the park region. I had been contemplating a side trip to local 12ers Tanima Peak (12,420ft) and The Cleaver (12,019ft), but the incoming clouds had me choosing otherwise. The pass was easy to locate and soon enough I was looking back up at it from Falcon Lake, with rainclouds and the sound of thunder nearby. Luckily, there was sufficient cover from the storm and I was back on the maintained trail, leading me back to safety and, eventually, my car. Unfortunately, my final destination was 6.2 miles away, and a trip to Chipotle in Boulder even longer.











I reached Thunder Lake and the ranger patrol cabin, just as the clouds began to clear a bit, allowing me a carefree descent back to the car. It was around this time the ipod came out and I went into cruise control. About 2 hours later, I was untying my boots, putting on the flip flops and giving my body a much needed rest from the long day.