by John Stamstad, part 2

Sleep deprivation is a pretty fascinating thing. Everywhere I looked, inanimate objects were moving, even the rocks, they just kept shifting around. The big rocks looked like tents, I mean they looked exactly like tents. I would stop and go up to them, usually say, “hello is anyone home” and have to touch it before being convinced that it was rock instead of ripstop.

That night my sleep deprivation induced imaginary friends came out. I had about 4 alter egos who would help me problem solve, that way I could concentrate on running and they would take care of the other details. It sounds a little crazy to write about it now but at the time and in that state– which is like being a live character in a dream world– I didn’t think anything of it, it seemed logical. And it was actually very productive. One of them suggested that I wear the pack facing forward on my chest. I remember thinking, “Man why didn’t I think of that”. It worked like a charm for my back but the downside is when you wear your pack on the front you can’t see your feet, which means you trip a lot and have to go slowly.

These lower passes of Gladys and Ruby Lake –lower being only 10,000 ft–were warmer but going up Donahue was brutal—40mph winds and cold. There was nowhere to hide, I just had to put my head down and go. I got over the top and I really needed to sleep, this was my fifth night and I had only slept 2 hours total. I made it down to tree line but it was still way below freezing. I decided to bivy anyway. I pulled out my space bag only to find that it had ripped apart. I didn’t have much choice so I just laid down between two fallen trees for some shelter and wrapped the remnants of the bag around me like a blanket. I woke up an hour later and realized that my legs were so cold they had no feeling from the knee down. When I moved to feel them, my hands were like clubs, so numb from the cold that I couldn’t uncurl my fingers. I couldn’t even get up to walk. After a short panic attack, and a few agonizing minutes, I was able to get some circulation and movement back and I restored calm.  As soon as I could, I got moving and tried to generate some desperately needed heat.  I had 7 miles to go to Tuolumne Meadows, and as soon as I hit the warm sun I stopped and lay down on a rock…….

Behind the Scenes, part 2

by Dan Patitucci

Deep in the forest beneath the south side of Half Dome, we heard the phone ring. “I can’t believe we have service back here”, was the first thought that came to mind, much less whom would be calling, it was John. “You’re where?” …”The Tuolumne Store, I’m done, I’ll be at the store, on the side of the road, you’ll find me”.

Janine and I had run in hoping to meet John along the way so we could run out with him to the finish in Yosemite Valley. Now we were sprinting back to the car, knowing John would appreciate a timely pick up, still an hour plus drive away.

We pulled into the Tuolumne store’s parking lot right at dusk, and there, huddled amongst the boulders was a person so annihilated it could only be the result of 200 miles of running. In the shadows John lay as a dark mass, we helped him up and immediately noted the shredded shoes, filthy and torn clothing and the fact that his feet were anything but usable. “You must be ready to get out of here” I said. “I’m ready for a beer”.

A couple of hours later, after beers and fish tacos at the Mobile Mart, we pulled up to our Bishop house. John was long gone and waking him was tough, getting him out of the car harder still. Here was proof that rigor mortis is possible while alive. Once inside the house, he came up short of the bed, shorter yet to the shower, and collapsed in the armchair, displacing our cat. Once again, he was out. Here, in the light of the living room, I studied him. This was a man who had just run the John Muir Trail and had not slept much at all in 5 days. He looked the part. I have never done anything to push myself to these extremes, but I could imagine that what he felt inside his destroyed body was pure joy. I was left tremendously inspired.

________________________________________

John Muir Trail Photography

To see images of the John Muir Trail, visit our great friend, and professional photographer John Dittli’s website as he has produced the definitive coffee table book on the trail.

A John Muir Trail Record Attempt

by John Stamstad, Part 1

John Stamstad

My run started four and a half days earlier on a cool evening at the Mt Whitney portal trailhead, just outside of Lone Pine, California. The John Muir Trail (JMT) goes for 200 miles and climbs almost 50,000 ft  before it crosses a road—I don’t know of many  trails in the world that can make that claim, if any—and this is in California of all places. Not only does it not cross a road, there are virtually no signs of civilization the entire way. I never saw city lights, I never heard the drone of a highway, and I don’t think I even saw a powerline. For an outdoor person, this is what heaven looks like. The trail is appropriately named after John Muir, who founded the Sierra Club and played a significant role in creating the National Park System. I think it is very fitting that the most significant point-to-point trail in the US is named after the most significant naturalist, and it is an absolute miracle that this wilderness is fairly unchanged from when Muir was exploring it in the late 1800’s. We all owe a lot to John Muir.

The Sierra Nevada’s Perfect Mountain Trail

Ready, set, go. The John Muir Trail

John Stamstad running the John Muir Trail through Evolution Basin

Behind the Scenes of Stamstad’s Record Attempt

by Dan Patitucci

“Sir, the John Muir Trail is not a day hike”.

This, from the overweight, under experienced desk ranger at the Lone Pine Ranger Office upon hearing that John did not intend to camp on the 220 mile trail. I was gagging on laughter as she went on to explain to one of the world’s best endurance athletes how the Muir Trail requires weeks of walking and camping. John, in his usual stoic way, listened patiently and politely. Finally he fessed up, “I’m running the trail, I’m not stopping, therefore I am not camping.”

The Ranger excused herself to call her supervisor. A square peg had walked in and did not fit into her round hole of bureaucratic training. To make a decision, she would need the help of a superior. A short time later she returned with newly drawn up regulations for John to read over. It stated John would not camp along the way, for if he did, he would need a bear canister. He agreed and together we exited the air conditioned building with permit in hand.

An hour later, on an unusually cold autumn evening, he stood at the Whitney Portal Trailhead seemingly unconcerned by the rapidly approaching darkness and cold night. On his back he wore a large Patagonia hydration pack bursting with high calorie foods, hopefully enough to get him to Yosemite National Park along one of the countries most demanding trails. He looked down at his watch, clicked start, said, “Cheers”, and was off. I watched him float away before turning to my car to drive home.

Two days later I woke early to get a head start on my own day. The plan was to run over Lamarck Col, through Evolution Basin and up Muir Pass where John said he would likely be passing at a specific time. The Sierra, in typical fall fashion, were spectacular and my own long day in was blissful. While heading up Muir Pass I saw a crouched figure ahead, descending awkwardly and slowly  - but nevertheless, the figure was running. It was John, exactly on schedule.

Upon connecting it became immediately apparent that he was in a bad state. His neck was killing him, his mouth was filled with sores from being stressed & eating odd foods, and of course he was utterly exhausted after running 100+ miles with no sleep, much of it over 11,000 feet. All of this in addition to having spent two nights out in well below freezing temps.

Being an unsupported attempt, I could give him nothing but encouragement. I could only watch him in his effort. It was a thing of beauty to see a man so driven to succeed. Together we ran through what is arguably the Sierra’s most beautiful valley, poor John unable to raise his head. I made some photos, told him a few jokes, and reminded him that Janine and I would be there at the end for him. Once again I watched him float away, halfway finished, and again I too turned on my own heels and ran my puny 15 miles out.  …..to be continued

At the end, we’re throwing out a challenge to all those getting through Alex’s post, read on and enjoy. And for our European friends, it is truly time to learn something from these wise words. Remember who was fastest on the passes in 2009 – I hear Lance even lives on these – and the fuel of choice was…..

The PB & J (for Europeans: Peanut Butter & Jelly – yes, the horror, but read on)

by Alex Newport-Berra

First, an antipasta…

Whether it’s a pre-rando race plate of Mama’s pasta and Tiramisu at Ustaria Posta, a post ride Italian pizza the size of a bicycle wheel, or a simple, yet elegant stop at the top of Passo Staulanza for a mid-ride ginseng espresso and pastry energizer for the next pass, it is clear the Patitucci’s grand adventure lifestyle requires substantial fuel. And with Dan’s stamina and power some might confuse him for a horse, except that his palette is a bit more refined. A man, especially one with Italian blood and a Swiss wife, can’t live on oats alone.  Among all the amazing photos of far-off mountains in all seasons, interviews and insight from inspirational athletes, stories, and each new post to their site, I find the Patitucci’s talents whetting both my appetite for adventure and the unique cuisine they encounter as a result.

However, there seems to be a bit of a hole as the main caloric ambassador for the Patitucci’s U.S. adventures is, beer. The recipe I share with you here is the foundation, the traditional mountain adventure food of Americans everywhere. From the dirt-bag climbers living out of vans to the lift-junkies in Aspen to the diligent cyclist putting in long base miles for the season.

For all the European readers, with limited access and esteem for peanut butter, feel free to use Nutella and that fresh loaf of bread you picked up this morning at the local bakerei.

The recipe itself is quite detailed, explicit, and a touch obsessive, but it comes down to one thing Italians and many Europeans know well, a passion for food that fuels a passion for life in the mountains!  And, when cooking, or in any technical mountain pursuit for that matter, it is not so much the ingredients you use, rather it is the process, your intention, and precision of execution that dictate success.

When I was young this sandwich was my weekend fuel of choice for mountain bike rides in the woods.  In high school this PB&J fueled my good friend Matt and I on many climbing and hiking adventures that I’m sure put both our Moms on edge.  When I was in college it was with this sandwich I courted the most beautiful woman on campus.  In my early twenties, sick, weak, and chock-full of pain killers after an ACL surgery gone wrong, this sandwich was the only food that aroused my palette, and so it was this sandwich that nursed me back to health, strength, and bike riding vitality.

And now, the main course, the true hard-man/woman’s PB&J

Ingredients:

2 slices of your favorite sandwich bread (take the slices from the middle of the loaf, this will ensure you have the moistest, biggest, pieces of bread.)

Pure, natural fruit Jam

Natural, 100%, crunchy peanut-butter (Jiffy, Skippy, or any other brand with anything other than peanuts and salt is NOT ACCEPTABLE, you might as well use drywall spackle if you’re planning to make it with a brand that ends in “y”.)

Tools:

Butter knife.

The biggest, sharpest, knife in your house.

Plate.

Hands.

Mouth.

Make it:

It is crucial you follow these instructions exactly.  It makes a difference.  This recipe is one part tea ceremony ritual, one part artistry, and one part highly calculated PB&J foreplay.  And with the PB&J foreplay in mind, it’s worth informing, “do not eat, taste, etc. any of the ingredients during the construction process, your “first bite”, should really be, your first bite.”

Have at the ready your PB and jam because once you pull the slices of bread from the middle of the loaf they immediately start losing their fluff, moisture, and goodness, and you want those babies fresh for your first bite.

Place both slices of bread on the cutting board, one above the other, not side by side.  Seriously, this is not some sort of abstract impressionism; you just can’t be putting your bread all willy-nilly wherever you want.

Cradle the lower slice in your hand, spread a thick, 3/8 inch layer* of jam on its surface.  The spread here is finesse and it’s all in the wrist, this is where my childhood tennis and golf lessons came in handy.  Make sure the middle area is just a little thicker.

*a rather long, though necessary note about spreading thickness: unless you are an engineer or of another profession that works with a ruler on a daily basis, it is imperative you educate yourself on what 3/8 of an inch honestly looks like.  If you know your fractions you’ll realize I’m talking almost 1/2 inch here.  Go, now, and find a ruler, familiarize yourself with just how thick 3/8 inch actually is.  Yes, that IS a lot of PB and J.  And that IS the whole point.  The PB&J was not intended for the modern wave of caloric fear and scrutiny.  This is the kind of sandwich Sir Ernest Shackleton, Eddy Merckx, Reinhold Messner, or The Statue of Liberty would be proud of.  It is a blissful, positive, life-affirming sandwich that Oprah, Weight Watchers, Subway, or the muddled “Vogue” magazine calorie-free chocolate sauce psyche would not approve of, and is simply not prepared for.  So do you get it now?  Don’t skimp it.  Let the 3/8 inch beauty and size be fuel for a grand adventure, a long day in nature, a chance to trust that what’s in your stomach will serve as a foundation for an amazing experience to come, one without fear or worry of growing hungry, tired, or weak, mid-way through your efforts.  Or split it with a friend.

Place the lower slice, now covered with the prescribed layer of jam, on the plate.  Now, there will be some residual jam on the butter knife.  This is good.  Wipe the knife clean on the upper slice in two diagonal swipes, creating a faint “X” on the slice.

Cradling this slice in your hand spread a thick 3/8 inch layer of PB, again, a little thicker in the middle.  I’m not going into the crunchy vs. creamy debate.  Honestly, creamy PB is like buying a white Porsche, or Fabio and Heidi Klum wearing board-shorts and a muumuu to the photo-shoot.

Carefully position the PB slice on top of the jam slice on the plate, ensuring the edges line up with the precision of an elevator door closing.  Flip the sandwich over so the PB layer is now on the bottom.

Things are getting steamy now, dark hued jam oozing, rich peanut butter smells wafting in the air, the soft texture of moist bread grazing your open palm. And this is good, remember, “do not eat, taste, etc. any of the ingredients during the construction process”.  Food foreplay heightens the senses, appetite arousal, so the first bite is sweet, salty, crunchy, moist, orgasmic bliss.

The final cutting of the sandwich is where I got to secretly live out my desire to be a sushi chef.  I always admired the intention and focus they put into each cut, and their gleaming, larger than life knives.  This cutting process is where I used the biggest, heaviest, sharpest knife in the house.  Pick the sandwich up from the plate.  You will notice the wonderful heft of the sandwich, the glory of your true 3/8 inch* layers of love.

Place the sandwich back on the cutting board, jam side up.  Lightly tamp down the top side of the sandwich by moving the knife in a diagonal position and direction from the lower left corner to the upper right corner of the sandwich.  You are tamping, not smashing.  Some jam and PB will ooze out the side, this is ok, and where the one contradiction to the rules comes in.  Pick up the sandwich and lick clean the edges.

You will either be highly attracted to, or highly suspicious of, the tamping process.  Though, as a wizened Italian grandmother said to her quivering grandson before his first confessional, “I don’t care what you believe, just do it!”  The tamping process firms the moist mid-loaf slices of bread and creates uniform layers of bread PB and jam.  It also allows the bread to hold up to the mastication process a few seconds longer so each bite is a true amalgamation of bread, PB and jam, resulting in a heavenly, sin-free, experience.

At last, you are ready to “plate” your creation.  Make sure the cut line is going from the upper left hand corner to the lower right.  No garnish, no accessories, this one stands alone.

As you look with awe, wonder, and lust, you will be amazed at your feelings of affection for what many deem a simple stand-by.  Sweet chanting in your mind has become louder, perhaps vocal, as you find yourself muttering between swallows of mouth-watering pre-bite saliva, “It’s time baby, it’s time.  Let’s eat!”

If you’re intending to transport this beauty I have found that a good wrap in foil is really the only way to contain it properly as most “sandwich” baggies won’t come close.  Where, how, when, you enjoy this sandwich is entirely up to you, and the adventure it fuels.

___________________________________

>> DolomiteSport Photo Contest <<

We’re looking for the perfect PB&J photo in one of two forms. There are two categories in which to play.

1. Design : We’ll consider Alex’s principles of construction and rate according to design and presentation – this will be the overall prize and the winner will receive a Smartwool NTS Baselayer system courtesy of our fun loving friends at the wool clothing master.

2. Consumption : For those not so talented in food photography, this is the category for you. The winning photo will be chosen based on the effects/aftermath/mess of eating a finely crafted PB&J sandwich. The winner will receive a stack of DolomiteSport stickers along with a napkin.

Please post photos by April 1 to our DolomiteSport Facebook Fanpage

Ski Rando Racing in Europe | by Nina Silitch

Nina at the Pierra Menta World Cup

I grew up alpine ski racing on the hard packed slopes of Sugarloaf/USA in Maine and then quickly switched to Nordic skiing while at Dartmouth College, more because I think I was tired of freezing my tail off at the top of the start box in sub zero temps in my GS suit. Always a sucker for a new challenge, I took up telemark skiing in 1992. This free heel fix stuck with me for 12 years, really until I moved to the Alps. Then my husband said to me, “you really should try randonee skiing, it is what they do here in the Alps. I have seen more Americans come over to do the Haute Route (Chamonix-Zermatt ski tour) on their tele skis and be miserable. Not because they are not good skiers, but because the snow can be very tricky on descents and days are long and the legs just get spent.” So I took his words of wisdom, got myself a mid fat rando set up with Fritschi freeride bindings and women’s Scarpa magic boots. I was good to go for my first Haute Route in 2003.
So you are probably wondering…did you like it? Did you miss telemarking? For me, I thought… I could never make the switch. Well, I did love it. It took a little while to get used to the feeling of not being locked down, but soon I got used to it and loved the feeling of carving on groomed trails and floating through fresh powder. I was hooked and ready for the new challenge of randonnee skiing.

Ski Mountaineering? Ski Running?

What do you call it? Here in the Alps we call it randonee skiing. Also known as ski touring, or ski mountaineering or ski alpinisme or rando racing. I must say I have never heard it called “ski running” but hey, maybe that is a new word that is taking off somewhere in the world. The cool thing is that the sport is taking off worldwide. Sure, the sport has its roots in the Alps with the Swiss, Italians and French, but also with the smaller Alpine countries as well. In the US, it is still a very young sport. One could compare it to mountain biking when it first started in the US and look at it now. It is going gangbusters!
This is a sport that appeals to all levels of skiers. Racers or non racers. The Swiss do a great job of encouraging everyone when they host races and this same movement is taking off in the US. There are often A courses and B courses. The B, also known as the “fun pop” category is typically done on heavier gear. The A course is the lighter weight race division also with more distance and elevation gain. In the US, Pete Swenson, director of the United States Ski Mountaineering Association and also director of the COSMIC rando race series is very aware of the need to draw in more people into the race rando scene and working hard to grow the sport.

Nina on a boot pack section

The sport is not yet an Olympic Sport but is on the docket to be in the Olympics in 2018 if all goes well. The bottom line, it needs to grow exponentially worldwide. The sport will not become an Olympic sport if there are only the alpine countries competing. We need to grow the sport in the US and other smaller nations to show that more countries are present. This year the World Championships will take place in Andorra. Already there are many new countries that will be present, including the US and Canada but also Korea, China, Japan, Portugal, Greece, and Russia, just to name a few. We are calling all youth!!! Parents we need your help! Give it a try. Start a local club. Youth 14 and up can race, but the younger ones can certainly ski tour. I was just at a World Cup in the Dolomites and there were children from the local ski club, around the age of 10, cruising around in the their ski touring set ups cheering people along! What a great opportunity to give to your kids! Kids who have alpine raced or are strong skiers as well as kids with a Nordic background are perfect candidates for the sport.

Nina kickin' it to a Podium finish at Mt Saxonnex

In fact, that is how I fell in love with the sport: it combines, endurance of cross country skiing/ running/ hiking, the thrill of technical mountaineering, and the speed of alpine skiing. The transitions that take place throughout a course make it an exciting way to travel through our alpine mountain playground. What a stellar combination!

The national teams for the majority of the countries such as Switzerland, France, Spain, Italy, and Austria are all nationally subsidized. This covers the cost of travel, race entry, equipment and national team gear. Some of these athletes are members of the army and are actually paid to train. Not a bad deal, eh? The United States Ski Mountaineering Association is desperately seeking a big sponsor to help the athletes reach their goals and cover their costs. At the moment all athletes are responsible for everything out of pocket. Any ideas on this would be greatly appreciated.

Surely, racing is not for everyone, and when I started I did not race at all, but enjoyed solely the pleasures of touring in the sunshine, a break at a pass with a thermos of hot tea, a good salami sandwich and some good ol’ Swiss chocolate. While living in Switzerland I did my first night event, an uphill race on heavy touring gear. These races were held at local ski areas, starting around 7pm after work and always followed by a traditional Swiss raclette or fondue. You were guaranteed great ambiance, people of all levels keen to get a good workout and a nice meal in good company. I forged along in my heavy gear (in the US, I would be in the heavy metal category) while snowshoers and elite light weight people whizzed passed me. Finally I fulfilled my husband’s quota of 6 races on heavy gear and I got to invest in some lighter skis and bindings. After that I felt like I was flying on my skis! Really it does make a world of difference.

The night uphills led to a little more each year for me. The winter after my 2nd son was born (2007) I was hooked and wanted to do more. There were team races in 2 or 3 person teams, individual races up and down in off piste and stage races over a period of 4 days. Now, 5 years later since my 1st uphill race, things are different. When I go out for my ski it is often not for a casual tour, but I have a goal for the workout – maybe an endurance session or intervals or recovery depending on the training for the day. This season my goals are: the World Cup circuit, with many races in the Italian Dolomites, as well as on the volcanic Mt Etna in Sicily, the World Championships in Andorra, the famous French Pierra Menta stage race and lastly the famous Swiss ski mountaineering race, the Patrouille des Glacier.

Nina, Lyndsay and Tara at the finish of the 2008 Patrouille des Glaciers- in our Crazy idea suits- very flashy -designed by Valerie Coltera who has a great eye for keeping the feminine style to a suit

Women and Ski Mountaineering

Nina making her way through a boot-pack section of a World Cup with the Mont Blanc range in the back ground. Here you can see her race set up: Ski Trab Duo Race Aero skis, Swix CTS2 carbon poles, Pierre Gignoux carbon boots, Petzl helmet, Dynafit pack and Women's Roxy goggles from Eyeshop

Like all mountain sports there are not many women in the sport of ski mountaineering but I hope I can help change that. I hope that through my example, I can help empower women to get out and enjoy the mountains by taking on a new challenge of their own, like ski mountaineering. This year I helped found the Chamonix Ski Alpinsme section, a new section of the Chamonix Club. Already we have 25 members, 8 of which are women. We have some beautiful race suits made by Texner- we will be in the hottest pink suits on course!
If you are going for a touring set up that is lightweight but also will carve some great turns down, consider: Ski Trab Freerando Light Skis, Dynafit speedlight bindings and Garmont women’s endorphin boot. My friend Meg is new to ski mountaineering and wanted a lighter set up, she loves the endurance of skinning, but still enjoys making the turns on the downhill. Her goals this season are doing some longer ski tours, but she may race the occasional uphill race.

My race set up:
Ski Trab World Cup Race Aero skis with Dynafit titanium race bindings, Pierre Gignoux carbon boots, Swix CTS2 carbon poles with a biathlon grip. I am now racing with a CAMP pack and have a Petzl helmet. I have one of the lightest set ups around, but I am racing 1-2 times a week.
There are some great suits out there for women. There are a few race suits made by Crazy Idea- very sexy and beautifully designed by a women. Another great women’s line is Wild Roses- For Women by Women- They know how to make technical, feminine and functional clothing for the mountains.

I love the sport of ski mountaineering and I hope to share my passion for it with others. Of course I would like to help the sport grow in the US and worldwide so it can reach the Olympics. Surely, it is not easy raising two young boys, running a household, training at an elite level and working on the side. In fact it is very challenging at times, but the rewards are huge and make it all worth the effort. For me, it is not so much about being a super mom, but to be a great role model for my children and to share with them what they can attain in their dreams if they work hard. I hope that our story can inspire some of you to follow your own dreams or at least get out and try ski mountaineering! Thanks for reading.

Nina training for the Engadine ski marthon in Switzerland. Really, there is a baby in that pulk, maybe even a future ski olympian

Nina Silitch Bio

Nina is a member of the US Ski Mountaineering Team. She helps raise awareness for good health through sport and gives back to the community through philanthropy. She is the Vice President of the Chamonix Ski Alpinisme Club. She lives in Chamonix, France with her husband and UIAGM mountain guide, Michael Silitch of High Alpine and their two sons.

To follow her news visit: FastSkier or Silitch Family or on Twitter .

I Like Firewood

European inspiration

Endurance adventure athletes pair enlightenment with masochism.  The sweet with the salty, like the peanut butter and jelly sandwich stuffed in a rucksack for a summit snack (for all my Euro friends out there who don’t give PB its proper respect and don’t even stock it in your grocery stores, replace with Nutella).  A typical outing can involve riding 100+ miles on the bike while maintaining the dignity to sport shaved legs and lycra shorts with a built in crotch-cuddler.  Or maybe it’s a 4 a.m. start, swapping sunbathing weather for snow, omitting the Gucci speedo for a Pata-gucci shell and the electronic chic of an avalanche transceiver.

Yet for all the salt, sweat, suffering, and sacrifice we endure, there is always the luscious, mouth watering, jaw dropping, sweet reward: a day alone in the beautiful bosom of Mother Nature, perhaps exploring new roads with new friends, or the freedom of a simple focus on body, breath and movement, hour after hour.

It was on a winter afternoon when I found myself with the familiar taste of salt in my mouth, pushing an empty grocery cart, miles from its linoleum floored home, towards the local mountain. The previous week, at the end of a long road ride, an abandoned pile of firewood rounds in the ditch got my attention.  What got my attention even more was noticing later the crumbs of bark that were the meager remains of Old Man Winter feasting on my firewood pile.

The intention to train for a specific race or adventure eases the lactic acid burn, and I have plenty more on my list of “things-to-do”.  Justifying my idea of a shopping cart turned firewood hauler seemed perfectly logical and resourceful, and a good bit of cross-training.  People whizzing by in their cars were obviously the “Gold’s Gym” type.  Their confused faces blurred by as I loaded the cart to the brim, three miles from the nearest shopping center.

The trip back to my woodshed was mostly downhill, fortunately, since the wood was still pretty green, making for a heavy load.  The welds of the shopping cart squeaked and moaned, my hair and smile flew crazy with the wind.  Eventually I arrived victorious, bogging down the small wheels in the loose gravel driveway.

I unloaded and started savoring the sweet: winter fuel free of charge, bombing the last mile down smooth asphalt to return the cart, putting the cart back in the parking lot corral and imagining the story it was about to tell to all its metallic friends who were forced to spend the day under fluorescent lights and bar codes, a resourceful use of my body, sweet warmth to share with friends, food, and stories past and stories to be.  And a moment, when, a few weeks later, at the end of a day of mountain biking, I stand in the middle of my driveway, wielding the noble mountain man phallic known as a “splitting-maul”, taking a deep inhale between focused, zen-like chops, to observe the mountains’ rugged silhouette standing in front of a golden ember sunset glow.

Don’t tell Igor Tavella, but I’m preparing for a Despar shopping cart assault on Dolomite switchbacks.  Those Sud-Tirol folk are keen firewood stackers, and I imagine come summer there will be huts on the Sella ring in need of a few cords.

Feeding the beast, stoking the fire, fueling the flame, each adventure keeps the flame strong for the next.  The mountains have taught me many lessons, one of the most powerful being the truth of balance.  So with this, fellow bikers, hikers, skiers, and more, yodel loud and rejoice!  Whether it’s a wintry trip to the market or a full-on alpine escapade, the saltier your adventure, the more sweet the reward.

Post courtesy of Bruce Hendler at AthletiCamps: High Quality Coaching and Performance Cycling Camps, based in Northern California. Bruce is an old cycling friend of mine with whom I spent many hours pedaling and racing alongside. He has become a legend of cycling wisdom thanks to his vast experience and passion for the sport of road racing. I know as fact that he can help prepare the aspiring road racer who dreams of personal results at a Granfondo. With AthletiCamps training program or cycling camp education, you will be well prepared for endless uphill kilometers in granfondos such as the Maratona dles Dolomites.

_____________________________________________

Rubens Bertogliati

Its time to bring back a Pro-shop edition with two new guest professionals; Rubens Bertogliati (Androni-Diquigiovanni) and Vladimir Efimkin (AG2R.) I had the pleasure of working and riding with them this past couple months and was able to have some good discussions about their training and racing. Rubens is the current national Swiss time trial champion and has worn the yellow jersey in the 2002 Tour de France. Vlad has finished 11th in the Tour and won stage 9 in 2008. He won the Tour of Portugal in 2005, and has numerous professional accomplishments. Both are looking forward to having good seasons and are super friendly and outgoing.

Q: As we go into the new 2010 season, what types of things are you doing to prepare for the long and very difficult season? Are you changing any of your preparation?

RB: Normally the season in Europe or Italy starts at the beginning of February. As usual I start training on the bike about two months before. In the first month I do free body exercises, swimming, and a little bit of running as well. Then I will

Vladimir Efimkin

increase the number of hours on the bike. I arrive in January prepared to do 6-hour training rides. Normally on the bike I concentrate on 3 important factors: force, rhythm, and endurance. Force is to develop power; rhythm is to have a good spinning frequency and endurance is to have a good capacity for long distances. Of course, balancing everything with specific structure is the trick that we focus on.

VE: For me, from a training standpoint, I am pretty much doing the same things I have done in the past, as they have been successful for me. The season is long and hard and I must separate myself by not “getting too serious” too early. It’s funny, you see me on our rides only eating simple food like bananas and small sandwiches. The reason I do that is I will be eating “race food” for about 8 straight months! We also talked about massage. Pretty much all race season, I am on a table getting massages, before a race, after a race. With a schedule that includes 80+ races, I need a break right now, so the timing of getting serious is important and that point usually happens at the team presentation and training camp. During this part of the year, I still train, but more as a prep for the more difficult training.

Q: How do you define success for yourself this upcoming season? Do you have individual goals, team goals? How do you as an experienced athlete measure your success?

RB: First of all it is important to arrive at the races well in form. Then my goals are absolutely the Swiss championships and the Giro d’ Italia. The team goals are important (maybe you have to help one of your team mates in the general classification of a stage race.) I can say that the team goals are focused around all the races in Italy. Surely my individual goals are to win as many races as possible, concentrating on the time trials and on the breakaway stages. I think that first of all you have to be happy about what you have done in the race and before the race, then the results are secondary.

VE: I think for me, it’s about improving on results from the past, as knowing my previous accomplishments allows me to set realistic and attainable goals for improvement. Of course, team goals are very important, but as individual riders, we must look for our opportunities and a good director will help guide an individual’s effort that blends with team goals. But first and foremost, we are professionals and we must respect the team. Being a professional on the same team for a couple years, we already know the big goals for the year, mainly the Tour, which I am very excited about after having bad luck in 2009.

Summary:

Skiing the Eastern Sierra Nevada Fourteeners

by David Page with photos courtesy Christian Pondella

This article first appeared in EastSide Magazine

From a distance it looked perfect. Perfectly epic. But from the summit, with skis on, looking down at an enormous chockstone wedged into the trap door of a fifty-five degree couloir, nine thousand vertical feet above the trucks, a sliver’s width passage to either side and only the thinnest of early-spring rot to look forward to, the prospect suddenly became, as Pondella would later recall, “frickin’ dicey.”

Chris Davenport approaching the Sierra Nevada's Keeler Needle and Mt. Whitney

Davenport had flown out from Aspen a few days earlier, had rented a car in Reno and driven down to Mammoth to catch Pondella. The plan: to effect a quiet, personal, media-light tour of the highest peaks in California’s High Sierra, to tick off as many fourteeners as time and conditions might allow, to get some sun, some good pics for the sponsors, to camp out in the sagebrush with friends, maybe do some bouldering, etc.—you know, easy, Eastside-style.

Having already bagged every last fourteener in Colorado—climbing and skiing off fifty-four summits in just under twelve months, and publishing a book about it—and having ticked off Rainier and Shasta soon thereafter, this was all that was left: fourteen more wind-battered patches of rock and snow to complete the whole list for the Lower 48.

Although the pace would prove blistering by mortal standards—at least two big mountains for every three days—Davenport didn’t seem in any real hurry to finish. “The idea is just to submerse myself in the range,” he said, like a man beyond last call contemplating the olive at the bottom of his martini. “It’s like meeting a new girlfriend, just kind of figuring her out.” As if to say: Hey, what’s the rush? Let’s put another quarter in that juke box.

In less than a month he’d be back to real business: helicopters, film crews, full entourage—and the pressure of getting it absolutely right down four of the most iconic and difficult lines in the Alps. “It’s brutal,” he would say later, on the phone. “But it’s work. And I have to work.”

Pondella had made an early-season recon flight with Glen Poulsen, just before Christmas, which had shown the southern peaks fairly ready to go. The Palisades, where in a fat year a crew like this might be able to knock out a handful of summits from a single base camp, were all exposed rock and ice. “We weren’t sure about Whitney,” recalled Pondella. “But we could see Langley was in, Split was in, Williamson was in. We weren’t sure about White.”

It seemed natural enough to start with Langley, at the south end, and work north from there. So they slept in the truck at the top of the moraine, right at snowline, and before dawn set out up the Tuttle Creek drainage toward the peak formerly known as Old Mount Whitney.

It was the third week in March and the Sierra Nevada was already deep into premature springtime. Snowpack was barely average. Still, the climb was straightforward and they were able to ski off the true summit on decent winter snow, dropping fast down the southeast couloir and all the way back to camp on fine corn. Up and back they were the only two people in the world. And by the end of the day they were blissfully bedding down in the parking lot at the Whitney Portal, requisite permits on their persons and a modest quotient of Tecate in their veins.

Chris Davenport skiing the Sierra Nevada's Mt. Williamson

From the Mountaineer’s Route they watched dawn splash bold across the east face. They crossed paths with two parties on the way up, the only other humans they would see in the backcountry that week: one, a pair of exceedingly well-encumbered gents, outfitted as if to spend three months besieging Everest (“as if they’d just robbed an REI store,” said Davenport); and later a solitary European fellow who had summited early and though equipped for a few nights out was already on his way back, having forgotten to bring fire for his campstove. For the former party there was nothing to be done; for the latter a spare lighter was produced from Dav’s first aid kit.

Chris Davenport skiing Sierra Nevada's Mt. Whitney

At the ridge they were surprised—and not a little pleased—to discover a thin tongue of perfect chalky snow right to the summit. It was an exciting rock-scramble for the last three hundred vertical feet, and “definitely a no-fall zone coming back down,” but they were able to ski the whole way. And still make the last hour of sun at the Buttermilks.

“It was one of the greatest days you could ever have,” said Pondella. “To climb and ski Whitney, to watch the sunrise on the east face, across some of the most beautiful granite in the Sierras, and five hours later to be climbing up the granite boulders at the Buttermilks—there’s not many places you could have it that good.”

To cap it off they decided to forego the cozy intimacy of the truck in favor of “Jacuzzi, internet and nice beds” at Pondella’s place up the hill. And the next day afforded themselves a break, went down to the Gorge for an afternoon’s fingerwork on welded ash. But by moonrise that evening, having met up with John Morrison from Tahoe, they were back to work—with a good fire going and a plan for taking Williamson.

Morrison dropped in first. “And as he was sidestepping in,” Pondella remembered, “he took all the snow right down to the rock.” Davenport tried the other way, around the right side, sidestepping down three or four feet and hopping into the air. “It was one of the sketchiest turns I’ve ever seen,” said Pondella, “but he stuck it.”

He also scraped the place clean, leaving the poor photographer to undergo what he would later describe as a “mini-epic.”

Down where Davenport had made his hop-turn, Pondella found himself tips and tails on rock. “My skis were doing the bow-and-arrow-thing,” he remembered. “I was sketching.” The only option from there was to point it for five feet—then stop. “And I’m like: I can’t do that—this could be the last—I fuck up that’s it I’m done.” Finally he slid his pack off, ever-so-gingerly, unhitched his crampons, threw his axe into the snow and managed to get one ski off. “Once I got that first crampon on I was fine.”

Hemingway once tried to make the case that bullfighting was “the only art in which the artist is in danger of death.” This in the days before high-powered energy drinks, before fat skis and alpine touring bindings and synthetic climbing skins, before Davenport & Co. The artistry of it, Papa argued, was in the matador’s performance, in the degree to which he was able to control the amount of danger, to run it “exactly as much as he wishes”—without dying. Surely this is also the measure of those few individuals who, with or without specific promises of financial remuneration, choose to leap from the planet’s highest pinnacles on skis.

The line down the southeast face of Split—next on the list—was considerably less hair-raising. Still, it distinguished itself, off the top, with some of the worst so-called snow either man had ever skied. Redemption came swiftly, though, in the form of nearly seven thousand vertical feet of smooth, high-grade corn—enough of the stuff to cover the vertical drop from the high-altitude doughnut counter atop Pike’s Peak to the Dunkin’ Donuts on Colorado Avenue in downtown Colorado Springs. With, in this case, plenty of packaged chocolate mini-donuts waiting at the trucks.

Chris Davenport skiing the Sierra Nevada's Mt. Langley

Then the weather changed. By the following morning, by the time the sun hit the cold backside of White Mountain Peak, there was enough wind sluicing down the canyon that they found themselves shouting at each other.

“It’s nuking up there!” yelled Pondella. Davenport nodded: “You can’t argue with the weather!”

So they turned around, punched their skis back out through the rabbit brush and scrub oak, drove up around Montgomery, took a nice long soak in one of the old tubs at Benton, and headed back down to the Gorge: you know, easy, Eastside-style—with the olive still marinating in the bottom of the glass.

________________________

DolomiteSport is excited to have this contribution by Mammoth Lakes locals David Page and Christian Pondella. David is a superstar writer for clients such as Men’s Journal, the NY & LA Times and even DolomiteSport. Christian Pondella is a combo skier extraordinaire and the go to guy for the best professional skiing photography.

David Page’s site Sierra Survey is a great resource for mountain sports and stories in the Sierra Nevada

Christian Pondella’s Professional Photography, Stories and more are at his blog: Christian Pondella

Chris Davenport is a professional skier and hero of many ski movies

Italian backcountry ski lunch

Guiding Italian Style by Alberto De Giuli

Some of us Italian Mountain Guides have it pretty good working in the Dolomites.
Most of our work days guiding clients in the Dolomites are spent skiing amazing backcountry powder, wandering through the wilderness or climbing steep ice. All of this is normal for our work, but it’s not only this type of guiding.

In the last few years, tourism in the Dolomite’s has evolved as many people from Russia and Kazakhstan come to visit and spend their Christmas and New Year’s here in the luxury of our mountains, primarily the Alta Badia and Val Gardena.

The wealthier of these people have started moving from the French and Swiss Ski Resorts after discovering the treasures and high style of the Dolomites. Undoubtedly one of the best places in the world to stay with friends and family for ski holidays.

These visitors always demand the best hotels, facilities and of course the best food to be had. Everything to be the best as you can understand… They will always hire ski teachers for their kids and for themselves mountain guides to help them move around the lifts and slopes. They are not so interested in skiing off-piste, or ski touring or snowshoeing. Their aim is the best slopes, fast but not too difficult and never too flat. The second and most important goal of these visitors is what we Guides must be most careful about; lunch.

With most of my clients, I first take them to the mountains, make them work, ski something beautiful and become satisfied with themselves and their day.

But with these new guests, these are days when I say, “Yes, we’re going to ski …but first we’ll go out for lunch”. To prepare for these guests I really don’t have to check the snow avalanche bulletin or the weather forecast. What I really need is a wide telephone number list of the best restaurants around, in the downtowns, or better yet in the mountains. My job is to seek and book a nice table to make my guests smile as I guide them through this, their dream day in the Dolomites. The tricky part in the mountains is working for those who love fish and seafood… I’ll have to find just the right place.

At the end of their holiday, they will have been stunned by the Dolomite’s dramatic scenery and amazed by these towering walls that come out from the forests. They’ll also realize that here they have nothing but the best for their families in these valleys: well organized ski schools for their kids, luxury hotels, friendly local people and of course the results of their hired mountain guide’s hard work, the best Italian food.

_______________________________________________

Alberto De Giuli is an Aspirant Mountain Guide living and working in the Italian Dolomites. Besides being a fantastic guide, athlete and one of my best friends, he has a tremendous talent for finding just the right lunch no matter your taste.

As a professional ski and mountain guide, I use and recommend Dynafit touring bindings. I also sometimes use and recommend Fritschi Diamir’s. I use and recommend Marker Barons with regular alpine boots. And yes, I even still use telemark gear on occasion.

Do I contradict myself by supporting such a broad spectrum of backcountry touring gear? No, I don’t think so. There used to be two types of skiing: resort skiing and backcountry skiing. Now, there are many ways to ski the mountains of the world: ski touring, ski mountaineering, ski running, XCD, ski camping, off-piste skiing, sidecountry, slackcountry, lift-accessed backcountry skiing, cat-skiing, heli-skiing, heli-hut skiing, sled ghost riding, speed flying, ski BASE jumping etc. Gear is becoming more specialized, designed to address a broader spectrum of backcountry ski activities. I like skiing. I like many types of skiing and I own a quiver of gear for all of them.

Internationally, one thing is agreed upon by most all backcountry skiers: heavier and fatter generally translates to: more efficient descent and less efficient ascent. Greater efficiency leads to increased levels of enjoyment. People want equipment that will maximize pleasure.

Classic ski touring in the Italian Dolomites

I think where the problem starts is American manufacturers selling the wrong equipment to the consumer. They create a few mid-range products that supposedly rule at everything – “a quiver of one.” These products can be OK, but they usually do nothing very well. One prominent company’s slogan for their backcountry equipment is, “It’s all about the down.” If it were really all about the down their skis and boots would be heavier and perform like regular alpine gear. Are they really trying to convince the backcountry touring customer that it is all about the down when they are spending 70-80% of their time going up? It is no surprise that these products do not sell so well in the educated European market.

I see the difference between mainstream European and American approaches as more geographical than cultural. There are many places in the Alps where light and fast touring is key for linking amazing itineraries in very rugged terrain. The Alps have the comfort and safety of civilization around every mountain corner. Popular backcountry ski venues in the US such as the Wasatch in Utah, Teton Pass in Wyoming, and the Front Range in Colorado are relatively tame. The average tour in these locations is shorter and more straight up and down, car to car. The snowpack in these venues tends to be consistently soft, light, and deep – great for fat skis.

When it really is all about the down, have fun with your ski choice

The combination of these geographic characteristics guides the gear choices people make. It is not based so much on cultural difference. Go to places in the Alps like Verbier, Switzerland or La Grave, France in winter and you will see people in the backcountry with gear biased toward downhill performance. It only makes  sense. You will see a similar bias in North American heli-skiing, and modern sidecountry skiing accessed from a growing number of ski resorts worldwide.

The Eastern Sierra is a confusing place for modern backcountry skiers. Here, the most exciting skiing is in wilderness. This means hauling your ass up the hill. The hills here are not trivial either and 7000 foot descents from alpine summit to desert sage are a world-class main attraction. If you are lugging big heavy gear up these mountainsides you are wasting tons of energy. Nowadays, lightweight AT gear is so high performance that the High Sierra is more stompable than ever.

I have seen many aspiring backcountry skiers confounded by the dearth of backcountry gear choices available. When buying, first ask yourself where and when you want to go. This will help you understand the best set-up for your situation. If you are like me, you worship backcountry skiing. You don’t want to be confined to one type of it. It is all so good, especially when you are using the right equipment for the tour.

_____________________________________________________

Howie Schwartz is a professional UIAGM/IFMGA Ski and Mountain Guide. Based in California’s Eastern Sierra Nevada, Howie is co-owner of Sierra Mountain Guides; a Guiding service specialized in climbing, skiing, trekking, and even trail running throughout the world. Howie also teaches AIARE Avalanche courses throughout the west and is quite possibly one of the most annoying people to ski with thanks to his ability to make all snow look like powder by skiing everything perfectly. He is also a brilliant bluegrass musician. –DolomiteSport is lucky to have Howie’s thoughts about understanding ski gear choices

_____________________________________________________

Visit Sierra Mountain Guides

North American and International Ski Guiding including: The Haute Route, The Ortler Circuit, June Mountain Backcountry, Palisades Crest Tour, Bishop Skyline Tour, Ritter Range High Tour, and many more world class ski tours, as well as Climbing, Trekking, and Mountain Running.

Skiing the Sella Group, the Kingdom of Couloirs

Sitting in the heart of the Italian Dolomites and rising above some of the region’s most famous villages is The Sella Group. Simply put, it takes your breath away. With its massive towers and labyrinth like corridors, it is a tremendous rock formation. Consisting of many different peaks it is a complex structure: all sides are rocky and vertical, and yet the top is flat. At its base there are four valleys linked together by the most efficient lift system in the world. This circuit, all on groomed pistes, is called the “Sellaronda” and runs around this mountain offering unforgettable views on each side. Skiers come from all over the world to spend a full day circumnavigating this island of stone on perfect alpine pistes.

At first glance, it seems to be a mountain impossible to ski, but a closer look reveals many different “white snakes” coming down from the top plateau through the coloured walls. These are the famous couloirs of the Dolomites. The Sella is the best place if you want to know them and understand the feeling of couloir skiing.

The Sass Pordoi cable car is the “door” of the kingdom and in only a few minutes we are on the top of the Altiplano, close to 3000 meters where the air is always cold and views to the Marmolada and beyond, stunning.
A tourist asks us where are we going with skis, because there are no pistes here and from the terrace you can only see huge cliffs… He doesn’t know that it is possible to move on the Altiplano and reach many hidden off-piste descents.
We start to ski on the flat summit of Sass Pordoi making the first track in 15 centimeters of fresh snow; the day is cold and sunny and I can feel the excitement of the guys who are skiing with me.
The first turns are a good warm up and in few minutes we reach the forcella Pordoi; the temptation to ski the south couloir or the north side (Lasties Valley) without tracks is very strong, but our goal is Piz Boè at 3152 meters, the highest peak of the group. For this, it is always better to go before it will becomes too warm.
We start to traverse toward the Mesdì valley, the most famous off-piste itinerary of the area, a kind of  “Vallèè Blanche” of the Dolomites.
But before its starting point we move right and start climbing with crampons on over the easy but rocky west ridge of Piz Boè. We’re headed for the little hut on the summit.
Now it’s time for a rest, close to the wood wall of the hut where we are protected by the wind and where the sun is stronger. From here the view is unbelievable and we can see in distance other skiers walking to Mesdì Valley and a group skinning up to north side of the Altiplano toward the Setus Valley, one of the best traverse of the Sella group.
In few minutes we start the ritual to get ready for the descent: crampons into the backpack, boots tightened, skis on, goggles, skipoles…rock and roll.
The northest face is wide and quite steep. Many people say that skiing a couloir is frightening, and here this is maybe a little true, because from where we start we can see the valley under your skis! It is time to find out.Thanks to the good snow, we all drop in and make perfect turns to reach the next starting point to the “Val delle Fontane”, an incredibly steep couloir which is hidden from the top. Here is the only possibility to ski down this side of Sella.
We are lucky, the sun has softened the snow in just the right amount. The couloir requires perfect snow for skiing.
Thankfully, the rope remains in the backpack and we start to ski the 40° corridor with jump turns between the gold and orange walls. With blue sky above our heads, we all descend, smiling, to the valley.
The ride is a pleasure and quickly the couloir is wide enough for longer turns. The skis move the surface of the snow drawing a perfect track behind. Stops are only for brief rests, to take pictures and to see the others in action (and to breathe!), but we prefer not to stop too much or it feels as if our “dream” is escaping.
At the end of the gully we have to traverse right to reach the open slopes; now it’s easier, there is no longer tension, but the snow is starting to be heavy …and our legs too.
Once we reach the lifts at the bottom we look back up to see our tracks in the couloir. They always seem to be much steeper from this perspective and I can see the satisfaction in the eyes of my client. This brings me great joy, to reveal the passages that are hidden in this great mountain.
But it’s only lunch time, if we keep moving the snow on the north side will still be good…

Francesco Tremolada is a UIAGM/IFMGA Mountain and Ski Guide based in the Italian Dolomites

Francesco works with Corvara’s Alta Badia Guides School and specializes in steep skiing. He has countless hard descents to his credit, many with clients in both the Dolomites and the Alps.

He is also the author of the new guidebook “Freeride in Dolomiti”, unarguably the finest guide for skiing in the Dolomites.

Contact : info@proguide.it

Phone  +39 339 105 5653

www.proguide.it

(DolomiteSport Sidenote – I would like to personally say thank you to Francesco for his contribution. Also, to add that for most any skier who dreams of dropping into these famous couloirs, they are not easy to find… using the services of a mountain guide will be appreciated)