New Ski Website- Fatterskier.com

Hey- I've been working on a new website the past few days, hopefully you'll take a look. It has to do with one of my favorite things in the world: SNOW. A bit primitive right now, but hopefully Fatterskier.com can evolve into something superb. Go ahead and check it out, maybe find yourself a deal, and look forward to future updates, including freeskiing news, videos, more gear reviews, ski shopping help, and policy updates.

Thinking about snow, boundaries, and where we can play

This shouldn't be the future of New England winters, though it appears from last year and the start of this year that we may be on such a track. Out West, however, snow does still exist. So I've decided to start a mini-series on access to snow and solutions for maintaining safe but open access to the backcountry so many take for granted. Much of this was written earlier for an environmental policy course, feel free to email me at benxcski at yahoo dot com if you're interested in learning more or would like to read the whole work.

     Large potential for friction exists between groups of skiers, the ski areas themselves, local law enforcement, state legislatures, and the USFS among other actors. While public land access during the off-season is relatively straight-forward as ski areas are not in operation and avalanche risks are low, the issue and safety of access to bordering non-permit land during the operating season of ski resorts is much more complex and deserves analysis. This paper will enumerate and classify the numerous actors involved in ski area boundary policy, and with these actors in mind, will develop and analyze a set of factors currently affecting boundary policy.

     Current boundary policies, which include signed access points, open but marked boundaries, and roped off, no-crossing boundaries, are influenced by a number of historical and current ownership issues, safety considerations, rescue coordination, and state laws. Some factors leading to these complexities are avalanche control, rescue costs and coordination, hazardous terrain, other access routes to non-permit lands, and state and federal liability laws. User education and technology is also useful in determining safe boundary policy, and is thus within the scope of this paper. Public land access is the main issue at stake, and in this case the legality and applicability of such access involves government leasing policies, application of local and state legislation in opposition of federal policy, and the role of ski areas in controlling or patrolling areas beyond their permit boundaries.
     The recommendations developed through an analysis of current policies, laws, and technologies will be applicable to and designed around western ski areas, as these are the areas with the most conflicts and controversy surrounding their current boundary access policies. The feasibility of implementing these recommendations will rely on extensive collaboration between users, ski area operators, the USFS, and other actors outlined in the paper. While the 2010 Ski Area Recreational Enhancement Act allows for fee-based use on permit lands for summer activities, there is little to no research so far into boundary access during the summer in these situations, thus limiting the scope of the analysis to the winter environment. The themes present in the recommendations, however, will be adaptable to similar access issues over boundaries, as long as similar factors are involved.

A taste of 3 fleeces from Patagucci and Columbia

Up 1st, the legendary Synchilla fleece from Patagonia. This fabric is the softer, fuzzier cousin of what they make Snap T fleeces out of. Neon colors mean you'll never go missing. But probably even better are the reverse-zip pockets that will fit paperback and traverse the entire front of the jacket. A classic piece, in classic colors. A bit too warm for the summer, but for fall, winter, and spring a perfect indoor/outdoor layer for around town and the ski lodge. A lot of folks like the snap version, but the full zip is a much better jacket, and doesn't have quite the same 'fratagonia' look vintage snap-ts bring. Columbia Indian Print half-zip. Not sure if its appropriate to call something Indian Print, but thats what this is. Awesome patterns, funky natural color schemes, and a baggy, relaxed, cocoon-like fit.

Images of fall and hoping for winter

Rainy, foggy, cold mornings Lead to colorful mountain days With runs stopping half-way through for donuts and a cappella on Greylock The next afternoon: three hours away in Keene Valley Bigger mountains And badder slides And a bit of snow on the high peaks Then Sandy shows up and all the leaves blow away And this little things is found on a run after 70 mph winds give it a ride Now its just a matter of time until this is the new going-out outfit

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Thinking about the sustainability of carbon sequestration in forests

Bugs are one of the most common killers of trees, their common names associated with the tree they attack- Douglas Fir Tussock Moth, Emerald Ash Borer, Spruce Budworm, White Pine Weevil. The mountain pine beetle is similar in name, but was first known to a few households as the carrier of blue-stain fungi, creator of the elegantly-stained boards popular during the 1970s and 80s for interior paneling and woodwork. As a pest, the mountain pine beetle didn’t reach the national stage until the 1980s, when large-scale infestations began killing entire stands of trees. Today, the beetle is known for the deaths of large swaths of forest across the Rockies, especially in Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, and British Columbia. Sometimes, these forests burn, as happened in 2009 when over 600,000 acres of partially-beetle-killed-timber burned in British Columbia, leading to thousands of evacuations and highway closures the province and neighboring Alberta (where I was bicycling at the time). Other times the forests are clear-cut before either the bug or fire hits, and often the entire forest just slowly decomposes. The situation is so dire in many areas that entire government departments are now dedicated to the beetle; the state of Montana and the province of Alberta even have web prefixes, beetles.mt.gov and mpb.alberta.ca, to address the spread of bark beetles. Today western forests, according to Warner Kurz’s study in Nature, are reversing their trend as carbon sinks and are releasing more carbon than they originally took in. Pines, like other plants, breathe carbon dioxide, the very gas that warms our planet now. So anything that absorbs carbon is generally a good thing, but too much of a good thing, in the case of pines, can turn into a potentially very bad thing. In British Columbia and the rest of Rockies, there now exists a positive feedback loop contributing to global warming. The mountain pine beetle benefits from warming climates and can move to higher altitudes and latitudes because of warmer winters. The mountain pine beetle can expand terrain as its victims contribute more CO₂ to the atmosphere and contribute global warming, which then helps the mountain pine beetle. It has been estimated that 7.5% of Canada’s CO₂ emissions come from British Columbia forests, and that by 2020 990 megatons of CO₂ will have been released by the forests. This transition of forests from carbon sinks to carbon emitters is problematic for life as a whole. In 2008, the Natural Resources Defense Council filed an endangered species listing for the Whitebark Pine, a relative of the Ponderosa common at elevations around 6000 feet. A June 2011 decision by the US Fish and Wildlife Service denied the listing, but the Whitebark Pine was found to be at risk due to climate change exacerbating existing threats, including the bark beetle. The US government at last recognized the connection between global warming and bark beetles. Mountain pine beetles are also not the only insects aided by global warming, and when forests are planted or replanted, as suggested as an easy way to sequester or contain CO₂, the even age distribution of trees will make the forests once again vulnerable to infestation. In this larger scale, the mountain pine beetle is just one of thousands of players, all of which have the power to turn forests from sinks into emitters of CO₂. While there is no obvious solution to global warming, the pine bark beetle is a reminder that sequestering all of our carbon into forests may be an evil rather than a good, and a plea to the world to think beyond the storage of carbon.

A little bit about burns, beetles, and forest death

In light of recent wildfires in the Cascade range that hit very close to home off of Blewett Pass, it seems to be the right time to post about bark beetles. The Leavenworth-Blewett area in North-central Washington, where Trakka is located, depended on logging and faux-Bavarian tourism for its livelihood. That is, before the Longview Fibre mill in Winston shut down in 2006. Before the faux-Bavarian village sprung up, timber was king. Locals resisted against lawsuits, appeals, or lobbying that sought to limit timber harvests. Clear cuts, in which all the trees are chopped down save a few so-called wildlife trees, were the most common, leaving left areas void of important, thin soils and living root mass. Bare hillsides became the norm for years, and in the place of the old-growth stands there grew even denser, even-aged forests. Before fire suppression began in the early 20th century, the Leavenworth area burned regularly, with most lands facing fire every dozen or so years. These ground-burning fires controlled excessive undergrowth, enabled large, fire-resistant trees to survive, and killed off most seedlings, all of which led to diverse-aged forests. But when fire suppression began, these small seedlings grew, and dense, even-aged forests became the norm. When fire struck these stands, where trees exhibited vertical and horizontal closeness, stand replacement fires- where the fire reached into the crowns of trees- burned at high temperatures and destroyed the forests, creating room for new, even less diverse ages of trees. Today, according to the Chelan County Conservation District, 98% of Leavenworth-area forests are recognized as Class II or III stands based on US Forest Service standards, meaning that the forests are not functioning and are prone to disease and infestation after 70 or more years without fire. With the decline in logging in the Leavenworth area, few natural or human population controls restrict the forests, and those that do are risky, insect-based infestations. After wildfires in 1994 swept the Icicle and Peshastin drainages, which encompass most of the greater Leavenworth area, and destroyed the biological and structural mainstay of the land, there was valid concern against logging due to the forest and soil health. The large and intense fires extended well into the crowns of trees and destroyed forests of Ponderosa pines known for their resilience and symbiotic relationship with fire. With watershed and soil health degraded following the fires, my grandparents worked towards new challenges against timber harvests, appealing and delaying sales on surrounding lands and enjoining timber sales on Tip Top. Around the same time, in the late 1980s through 1990s, the spotted owls’ preservation, using the newly-enacted Endangered Species Act, was successful in limiting timber sales. Forest management in the Leavenworth area was changed for good, and a number of suits and management plans pitted loggers and timber companies against conservationists and the general public. Little did conservationists and loggers know, however, that the very trees being saved for the owls would be dying as well due to pine bark beetles. The culprit in new forest deaths: a small, black creature, the mountain pine beetle, Dendroctonus ponderosae. A string of dry and fire-free summers combined with warmer winters to produce weakened trees and surviving beetle larvae. Only then did the small, black bodies appear across the property, complete with hundreds of dimples across their backs and a pair of powerful jaws. Each beetle was less than a quarter inch, but caused damage that extended a few feet around the trunk of each tree. After peeling away the bark, maps resembling flatland streams or coastal fjords appeared; the interconnected, weaving strands of destruction were filled with sawdust. Small pupa, segmented jelly-like transparent bugs, grew slowly early in the season before turning into full beetles capable of flying and creating their own homes one July or August. The parts of the land covered by meadows and trees spaced every few dozen to few hundred feet- the way the meadows and forests were before climate change and white settlement- remained healthy. But the dense forests, which hadn’t burned for decades and hadn’t been logged in almost as long, were dying due to the beetle. Trees once valued greatly for their timber were turned into dead trees, changing color to red and then grey as all foliage fell off.

Dry falls and memories of Irene

Last year, around this time, New England was receiving the remnants of tropical depressions, recovering from Irene, and heating up fast. Trails were muddy, rocks wet and slick, t-shirts always soaked in sweat. I sat in misery on the 4th floor, the heat of 4 floors below creeping up.

So far this year, we've only had one real fall rain, a couple showers, and a lot of beautiful days. While a run doesn't have quite the same umph to it when roots and rocks are dry, the beauty and coloration of a legitimate New England fall bring an equal distraction. We're just getting into the reds after a brief glimpse of yellow high-up, and soon official ski practices will start and hopefully snow will follow (though from the the snow gods we've already learned that Telluride and Park City got a nice dump this morning). Williams College officially turned on the heating plant this morning, and hall mates have started to complain about the influx of cold air from under my door. A bear head graces our living room, and a vintage Monoplane radio-flyer-eqsue sled wishes for a trip outside.

A little slideshow

     I'm still working to piece together a multimedia presentation from a couple trips this summer, but while thinking about what'll be included and how a number of complicated themes will be expressed, I've put together a few photos from the trip- just 5 minutes of your time, please.
    My idea was to give a simple photographic description of the journey and roads- no people or animals for the most part, as I chose to focus the presentation on the landscape and environment rather than the people (who are interesting and deserve their own profiles).
   There are fields, plantations, lots of roads and paths, beaches, forests, towns, courts- a taste of what its like to ride through the rural South as well as more developed portions of the gulf. Pictures are in chronological order, start to finish.
   My next big trip will likely be spring/ summer 2013 to Kazakstan, Krygystan, and Tajikistan. Looking for partners, sponsors, advice...
So here it is, sans audio narration...
http://youtu.be/9D-2Pc48ZSY

A Summer in Summary

In short: A lot of traveling, a little work at home and at Cascade Bicycle Club, and a little time on the beach.
I started off with an ended-too-quickly bike trip. Left straight from school, was in Jacksonville, FL by evening, and on my bike 6 hours later. Two weeks later, I stopped off in Houston, unprepared for cycling through 110-degree temperatures and wildfires in New Mexico and Arizona. Not quite a letdown; instead, an invitation to explore the SW more in the non-summer months.
Home for a couple dozen hours, then off to Holden Village, an old-mining-town-turned-vacation-camp in the North Cascades. Exchanged 30 hours a week of felling, bucking, and splitting firewood for delicious food, my own room, and lots of trail running and scrambling.
A week of herding 5-9 year-olds on bikes, and then some house painting.
A couple rock climbing trips to Leavenworth and other areas of the Cascades, including one with an awesome lightning storm and burning trees.
A weeklong trip to the beach at Fort Flagler, mini family reunion, the whole works.
Another week at work, then off to: Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming for horseback riding, hiking, and climbing in the Centennial Valley and the Tetons.
Some more mountain awesomeness in a quick 35 mile backpack through Spider Gap.
Then a trip to Mazama, WA for the Cutthroat Classic, where my brother and I went 1-2 in the 19&U age group.
Just finishing off the summer with a trip to the cabin and a day at home packing.

Spide Gap-Buck Creek Backpack

Just back from an impromptu backpacking trip with my younger sister and a friend from school(s). 35 miles+, 7500+ feet of elevation, 2.5 days traveling, 2 boxes of very high sodium instant rice and beans, 50 mosquito bikes, 10 horses, 1 massive view of Glacier Peak, 4 skiers, and a bit of rain summarize the trip in numbers.

View from the top of Spider Gap ~7200 feet

Upper Lyman Lakes and the edges of Lyman Glacier

Piper and Sylvie negotiating the snowfield and glacier

A little talus love near the old mines

Evening light near lower Lyman

Meadow view from the buck creek pass campsite

the trusty stead: 1988 240 DL

Lower Lyman

V2 Reflections on Idaho, Montana and Wyoming

Montana. The west. The Old West.

   From Washington, Montana is just a long day's drive.  Yet the farther down a narrow two-lane road, or better yet a flat gravel highway, Montana no longer is just a vacation destination. An allure exists that brings people from all over the country to escape, and in many ways this becomes true. Montanans tend to fight heavy snow, wildfires, and hot summers, but at the same time receive an adventurous yet kind spirit unrivaled by big cities.
   I love the Idaho Panhandle and parts of Central Idaho, but when I return home over Snoqualmie Pass, I tell myself go far or go home. The rolling forests, rocky peaks, and crystalline lakes may be spectacular, but why go so far when even better granite peaks and alpine lakes are an hour from the back door.
   Montana, even just a bit beyond the Idaho border, is a different case. As a resident of an unnamed valley in Idaho said in reference to Montana's Centennial Valley, "I live in a valley in Idaho like the Centennial, except not surrounded by these gorgeous mountains". Everywhere has valleys, some burning up, with cattle and friendly ranchers. But in Montana, there exist wider valleys with less people, more animals, and more prominent peaks. Here peaks aren't just the local high points, they are mountains deserving names, with their own distinct forms of rock and interfaces to the fragrant grasslands below.
   Then, there's Yellowstone. A creature on its own, originally an American creation but increasingly an international phenomenon. The landscape in the park is clearly Martian; how else would goo pile up and red boiling pools bubble endlessly. The visitors and staff, however, make for a very different site. People show up to West Yellowstone, MT for a taste of the West and find machine gun rentals, a big grocery store, and a hundred t shirt shops. A polar opposite from the town gas station and range stations, but still a Montana attraction.

   Grand Teton National Park connects to Yellowstone, but the connection is rather long (at least to a carload of kids eager for supper and a run) and acts as a filter for some of the best users of National Parks (fewer RV sites, fewer amenities, fewer paved trails, fewer wolves). We tend to stay at the AAC Climbers' Ranch, a hodgepodge of dude-ranch buildings from the Double-Diamond Ranch. A different group of inter nation tourists, this time from France, the British Isles, and other areas where people love their mountains and the Alp-like access and setting of the Teton Range. There isn't much to do or see in the park that can't be done of foot or by canoe, and sometimes by a combination of both. Want a view into Idaho or a hard rock climb? The Tetons have it. Want a paved loop trail to view wildflowers and see some wonders of the world? Maybe not so fast, at least when in Wyoming...
   My great uncle is a Wilson, descended closely from Nick Wilson, the founder of Wilson, Wyoming. Wilson is right by Teton Village and Jackson Hole Ski Resort, home to million-dolla town homes and an aerial tram. Wilson, though, retains its own turn-of-the 20th-century feel, with Nan's Fish Creek Inn and a few hundred single-family homes guarded both sides of WY-22 on the way to Teton Pass. The grocery/ hard ware/ everything else store that defines so many small towns was staffed by a summer staffer, who knew nothing of the town. How horrid, yet what a treat for someone to be able to experience life in the Tetons a bit outside of Jackson and Teton Village.
  What perpetuates "job tourism"? Stay tuned...

Quick Seattle-area bike overnights

Today I present two quick trips out-of-town to the beach. So grab your bike, a pair of panniers, and a tent. Plus a few bucks for the bus and/or ferry.

1. Saltwater State Park

One of the closest state parks to Seattle, Saltwater has a handful of campsites and a nice beach in between Des Moines and Tacoma. Sites are spread amongst the trees, and aside from a few under an overpass all the sites are pretty quite given the proximity to seatac.

Depending on how much time you have, the park is either a commute bus to the sea-tac area and an 8 mile ride, or about 25 miles from anywhere in Seattle- an easy after-work ride.

The ride can be made on busy urban streets, car-free trails, or somewhat windy roads. Your choice. There’s a small camp concession that sells decent food, or you can just head a few miles into Des Moines’ cute downtown.

2. Fort Flagler State Park

A bit further, perfect for a longish weekend. A long ride, but a great bike+bus trip for under $15 in ferry fares and transit $. Campsites are often hard to come by, but there are two hiker-biker sites reserved for folks on foot or bike. Outrageous views, close proximity to Port Townsend, and flea-free sand bless the Marrowstone Island park.

To get to Fort Flager, take the Bainbridge Ferry from Seattle, hop on the Kitsap 7A bus, transfer in Poulsbo to Jefferson County Transit heading to Port Hadlock, and ride 10 miles from Port Hadlock.

Fort Flagler is an old military base and part of the “Triangle of Fire” surrounding Admiralty Inlet and the entrance to Puget Sound. Mountain-biking trails and a main road provide infrastructure in the park, which varies between concrete bunkers, dense forests, and grassy bluffs.

Have fun and take a night away from home.

Craggin in Leavenworth

I don't quite live in Leavenworth, but its still a place near to my heart and our family cabin (Trakka). So when the forecast isn't blue sky for days, and snow is melted to 5,000 feet, I love to head to Icicle or Tumwater Canyon for some rock climbing, siesta-ing, and chillin. Last week it was 102 in the afternoon, and the dark granite probably hit 120 in places. But by climbing in the morning and evening and relaxing by glacier-fed streams in the afternoon, perfection is reached. A little sweat, lots of numbing and inflammation-reducing ice water, hard climbs, and warm rock at night.
Sometimes its just climbing 5.fun or 5.7 for a couple pitches, topping out on a buttress overlooking the valley a thousand feet below and looking across into the Stuart range and the enchantments. Other days I'll work a hard boulder problem in one of the endless numbers of caves, or crimp tiny holds on 10+ sport routes.
Next up is some quality alpine climbing in the Enchantments themselves. 10 pitches 5.10??? If I planned ahead a bit more, I'd have a permit to set up base camp and chug along on routes all day, but that'll have to wait.

Pockets of rain ?

Somehow, my house in Seattle has been in a pocket of rain all day today. It's clear to the South, somewhat clear to the West, and pretty nice to the East.
It seems I'm often in a pocket, or searching for one. Localized weather presents some sort of attraction- be it better winds, less heat, more snow, or different vegetation. So I'm always on a quest for that bit of meadow amongst a tangled forest, or the large flat rock in a scree field, or the sunbelt on a cold, powdery slope.
But when a pocket comes to you, its a bit different. Do you want to escape the pocket, or stay in? Rain outside means a refreshing dripping sound, which while nice for a bit becomes a drone after a few minutes. Sun aplenty is either a nice break if you leave in the PNW, or a constant worry of overexposure and stress if you live elsewhere. So when do you decide to stay, leave, or play hopping games in and out of a pocket of _____? I still don't have the answer....

A trip to the village- June 10-17, 2012

I had about a week to spare, and a few hours of internet access in Houston. What better thing to do than to go on a free trip to Holden Village, a mining camp/ Lutheran retreat center/ climbing base camp in the North Cascades at around 3200 feet. So I sent in a registration form for the biennial summer work camp, and was quickly informed via Facebook that two of my friends from church were going as well. So we hopped into two separate cars at 5:15 in the morning and drove to Field's Point Landing, ready to get onto the slow boat headed up Lake Chelan. Unfortunetely, the slow but was down and there wasn't enough room on the other boat for everyone, but I managed to get a ticket.  

 We hopped off the boat at Lucerne after a choppy two hour ride. Normally a quaint settlement of about 30 one-room cabins owned by the lake chelan yacht club, Lucerne is now a loading area for Rio Tinto (RIO), a large mining corporation and owner of Howe Sound Mining, which was the original owner of the copper mine and now superfund site at Holden.

 After an 11 mile uphill bus ride, with 11 switchbacks, we arrived at the village to rice and beans and salad for lunch, as well as lodging from the 1930s. I got this luxurious queen room with a bunk bed to myself (first time in 18 years of coming to Holden Village)

 A view out my window into the partly-cloudiness of the North Cascades

 A view down the Railroad Creek Valley where Holden is located, taken from Hart Lake (where I ran several times, about 9 miles RT). The weather was near 35 or 40 at night, and hit 60 some days. Perfect for working 5 hours per day and playing 10.

 Water was running high, as indicated by the outflow from Hart Lake. The river continues a few thousand vertical feet and several miles to Lake Chelan, picking up large amounts of toxins along the way from the mine tailings.

 The mine itself. I got to cross the river to go to the saw shop, but otherwise the mill side of the river is closed as mine remediation work starts. Lots of mobile offices and orange fencing definitely don't fit in with the log and shingle buildings, but are still a welcome change for the ecosystem.

 Me mid-run to near Lyman Lake, which was still covered completely in snow.

 The boom truck (not to be confused with the bomb truck, a small, green army surplus truck used for logging as well). We carried logs and unloaded them for bucking with this blue beast.

 My work done (its a bit difficult tot throw logs and take pictures or saw and take pictures). I alternated between splitting wood, bucking wood with a chainsaw, and climbing up high and stacking wood to the ceilings. Others gardened, drywalled, tested fire alarms, worked on the trails, and watched kids among other bizarre and standard tasks.

 The avalanche debris near Holden Lake, still present and a mess after 2 years. This must've been a huge slide when it happened.

 Holden Lake, sauked in by snow. Not recommended as a hike unless you know the trail by heart due to the snow, ice, and hard snow that doesn't retain footprints. Probably don't walk on the rapidly thinning ice either (though I've been known to do such things with my brother)

A parting view from Lucerne looking across the lake.