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Smartwool Product Review

Apr 25th, 2010
by dolomitesport.
3 comments

Wool vs. Synthetics

Over the years I have worn a lot of synthetic clothing. For whatever reason I am drawn to sports which synthetics seem well suited, typically in the form of lycra or spandex. Cycling, nordic racing, running, ski rando racing, etc… my games, all wrapped in lycra.

But then a few years back we started doing much of Smartwool’s advertising photography, at which time the Creative Manager started pushing wool on me. I politely dodged the idea and carried on with my own beliefs in syntheticism. I think it’s my road biking background that tainted me. Wool is something Eddy Merckx wore – in the 70’s… In my mind, we evolved into, uh, plastic clothing. Expensive plastic clothing! It pills, stinks, melts to your skin when you crash and has inconsistent performance. Did I mention it is made from oil?
Finally, as I seem to be kind of off the back with the trend, I decided to try the wool thing. The Smartwool Creative Manager, who has since become a friend, sent me a big box of fun hats, gloves and baselayers (Thanks!). I agreed to use it and review it – but the policy holds – I speak my mind.

Boot packing with the Lightweight Zip and a Microweight T

Reviews are subjective – is the reviewer someone you are willing to listen to? Brief Resume: I have close to 100 days skiing the backcountry each season and am in the mountains 320+ days each year – I have 23 years in the Outdoor Industry as both a professional photographer and athlete.

Smartwool : The Facts (as I see them)

Performance: I have primarily been using Smartwool’s Micro and Lightweight baselayers, both have a wider range of comfort than what I am used to in synthetics, meaning they keep me warm in the cold temps but not too warm when the temps increase. The feel is one of the things I like best, the Merino wool feels like cotton but performs as needed for temperature regulation and breathability.
Wicking/Drying: Wool suffers a bit from sweating, it does stay wet longer. But, it doesn’t feel clammy against the skin. Also, I found that as long as the layering system is not too far out of its temperature range, and gets some airflow, the wool will dry quickly.
Stink Factor: Unrivaled… Smartwool does not stink, no matter how hard I tried, and oh did I try, it just doesn’t stink, even the socks. Some of that 100 days in the backcountry were consecutive, without washing. Friends appreciated the switch to wool, many have switched themselves on stink factor alone.
Criticism?: I would like to see more sporty designs for athletes. Tighter fitting with more elastic that allows the sleeves to be pushed up without then becoming baggy. Also, designs incorporating different weights and materials into a paneled performance piece. Finally, for the baselayers; some stripes, accents, something! I don’t see this stuff as underwear, in many ways it is technical clothing, I want it to look the part.

Smartwool's Merino is undoubtedly more comfortable and cozy

Smartwool Summary

The Merino wool that Smartwool uses is the best feeling material against my skin. Wool seems to have a wider comfort range than synthetics but still, for high exertion activities it is important to not over layer. Get to know the systems and the temperature range they work within. And the socks? Simply the best, they last forever and maintain a snug, cozy fit.

Best of all, wool supports my firm belief that all things natural are best. I am sold.

Want to see more photos from the Italian Dolomites and our recent Smartwool Shoot, click here.

Support Smartwool, it keeps sheep employed Globwooly

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Visit Smartwool’s fun site complete with many photos from PatitucciPhoto

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Disclaimer : In no way has PatitucciPhoto/DolomiteSport been paid to do this Review, it was our idea based on being happy with the product.

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Italian Dolomites Backcountry Ski Camping

Apr 22nd, 2010
by dolomitesport.
3 comments

Huts vs. Camping

“But one doesn’t really camp in the Dolomites…”.

I knew further protest could jeopordize work for a favorite client, instead I listened, “But for the shoot we need camping, we want to see that kind of ski tour, no huts”.

The PatitucciPhoto workplace

“No huts?” The pain was lessened by the fact that the huts are actually closed this time of year so camping would not include any windblown scent of Penne all’Arrabbiata. “Ok, let’s do it.” But my next thought was, “With whom are we going to do it?” Italians don’t camp in their own mountains, and with snow on the ground, I had some work to do.

Enter Alberto De Giuli (aka BG, Bloody Gorgeous): BG, “Sure, when do we go?” Me, “Really!?” BG, “Ya, let’s do it, and I know the spot”. Me, “We need someone else, another guy.” …”My friend Andrea will join us”. This was too easy, something was wrong.

Enter Stress: The weather forecast for our shoot days went from sun, to snow. I considered canceling. Then, with 48 hours to go it turned to iffy.

Enter Volcano: Let’s not forget the eruption and a little change in the wind direction that put Europe under an ash fallout warning. More stress.

Enter Good Fortune: The morning we were to start was crystal clear and cold with ash free blue skies. As if made to order, 10cm of fresh snow covered the Dolomites. Our approach was track free, things were looking good. With the huts closed, less people were venturing into the mountains, our determination was going to pay off. A little piece of the Dolomites would be our own.

Smartwool Review

This is our third year shooting advertising for Smartwool. Early on the Marketing Boss saw Janine and I as photographers with whom he would like to build a relationship. Rather than hire us for a shoot to see how it went, he had the vision of building a relationship where together we developed a style for the brand. It wasn’t a one off, it was a multi-year commitment. For all involved it has been great.

Camping in the Dolomites

But, there is the case of my stubborn willingness to try wool. For this, I am teased and taunted. Janine is a long time fan while I have been committed to synthetics. Finally, this last December we received a size-able box of Smartwool goodies as a gift. I dug in, liked what I saw, and implemented wool into my wardrobe. I told Smartwool I would review the stuff, but that I would do it with an honest voice.

Briefly, I like it. A lot. And the fashion & function conscious Italians? “Bello”, was repeated over and over. But, the Gear Review will have to wait and be part 2 of this little tale.

Smartwool Consensus: Andrea & Alberto say "Thumbs Up"

Andrea Gabrielli skiing powder

Enter an Admission: NOT being in a hut was fantastic. It all came back to me, my roots, how it all started, that feeling of being out and not on any program. Melting snow, sleeping on ice, being cold, the wind, everything frozen… well ya, it does kind of suck. But this sort of experience tends to come with lots of laughter, the people make it, they always do. BG was, as always, brilliant fun. And his friend Andrea was equally as fun – all this made for a great time. For two days it was how it all started, Janine and I living in a tent, charging around the mountains, making photos of friends.

And with this realization came another; As much as I love using huts, they don’t belong everywhere. There is something about the freedom and that little added hardship which completes the mountain experience (but not all the time). California’s Sierra Nevada come to mind. I have been engaged in a friendly debate regarding this subject with several close friends back in my home mountains. I am throwing in the towel. While planning a month climbing in the Sierra later this year with Janine and Alberto, I am finding myself increasingly excited to get into the backcountry and on our own (BG, …more of the same minus the snow).

Pasta dinner - of course, it's Italy

Alpine start to make the summit for sunrise

Andrea and Alberto bootpacking the last bit to the summit

Sunrise made better with volcanic ash in the Dolomites

Andrea Gabrielli skiing in the Italian Dolomites

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John Stamstad Running the John Muir Trail Unsupported

Apr 12th, 2010
by dolomitesport.
3 comments

A John Muir Trail Record Attempt

by John Stamstad, Part 1

I lay down on a rock in the sun to warm up for a bit and I dozed off. A nice middle aged woman sat down next to me and looked at all my gear. She said, ‘Looks like you have some decisions to make.’ I said yes, I am trying to finish this trail but I have a plane to catch that I really can’t miss and tons of work to get back to and I’m trying to decide if I can/should try to make it. She replied, “Why are you here?” I went into a long explanation of how I was running the 225 mile John Muir Trail and I was doing it unsupported and I was trying to set a record. She smiled and looked at me with warm penetrating eyes, “But, why are you here?” And then she just got up and walked away……

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

I started thinking about running the JMT a couple years ago when I first heard about its existence. I really couldn’t believe that something like that existed in our modern world. I knew I had to experience this amazing section of wilderness.  I read up on previous attempts to run the trail (although as John Muir said, “One day’s exposure to mountains is better than cartloads of books”). Tim Tweitmeyer and a group ran it with some support and finished it in 5 days 10 hrs (from Yosemite south to the top of Whitney).

Ready, set, go. The John Muir Trail

Buzz Burrell and Peter Bakwin ran it in 2000 in 4 days 15 hrs (from the Whitney portal north to Yosemite) using a  support crew and were blown off the course near the end because of a major storm, but still finished in record time. Peter went back and ran it again in 2003 and set the record at 3:22. Keven Sawchuck went there in 2004 and set the current standard of 3:21 (with full support crew, from the portal to Yosemite). I make the distinction of level of support because I think it is important. There is a very big difference between carrying a big pack with lots of gear and running with the bare minimum, and having a crew cook hot yummy meals for you, take care of your feet, drive you to a hotel, and give you moral support at the lowest moments. I actually had a discussion about support levels with some elite ultra runners and one of them didn’t think there was much of a difference between a self supported run and a fully supported one. And actually he thought he could go faster self supported. Anyone who thinks that has never done anything ‘out-there’, never dealt with starvation issues, and has never gotten lost or injured with no one to look for them. When you do something solo you start with a nervous ache in your stomach: did I forget something? What happens if break an ankle, or twist a knee? Do I have enough food?  What if I get hit with snowstorm? This angst is quickly replaced with the adrenalin rush of knowing you are facing the trail, the elements, and yourself and nothing else—the world is simplified.
I was planning on doing the JMT self supported, meaning that I would not have a crew but I would make stops to buy food along the trail. Not that buying food is easy—in 220 miles there are only 2 stores (both towards the north end of the trail), and one place where a package could be mailed.
Then a few weeks before I was going to do my run, I heard about Reinhold Metzger. I called him and asked him about his record for doing the trail with no support. He did it in 5 days 7 hours (from the top of Whitney to Yosemite) and carried everything he needed; he didn’t even stop for a coke. That is so hard core. I am a firm believer in recognizing the precedents of athletes that have come before you. I knew I had to do the run unsupported even though it would certainly make it harder and slower because I would have to carry much more weight, and I didn’t have much time to train for that added weight. But it is a much more pure way to do it and much more in the spirit of John Muir—just you and the mountains. Anytime you need a car to do a wilderness run, you are missing the wilderness part of the experience.

John Stamstad running the John Muir Trail through Evolution Basin

The  route starts with a 6,000 foot climb from the Whitney Portal trailhead up to the peak of Mt Whitney—the highest mountain in the lower 48 at 14, 491 ft. Actually the proper JMT starts at the top of Mt Whitney, but you can’t start at the top of a 14k mountain without climbing it first. I was geared pretty light for crossing that type of unforgiving terrain: 18.5 lbs total, most of that food. I didn’t carry a sleeping bag or pad, just a Patagonia down sweater, Grade VI rain jacket and pants, some good gloves and a space blanket bivy sack. As I started up Whitney I realized I might not have the extreme heat issues that other JMT runners have written about. I knew right then that it was going to be cold. I have had a lot of experience with cold though. I’ve ridden my bike the whole 1100 mile length of the Iditarod Trail in Alaska in winter, so even though I had the bare minimum for gear, I was confident—I knew I had just enough. There is a great saying up in Alaska, “you tend to pack your insecurities”. It is always a fine line between carrying too much and too little. The less you carry, the less you need to carry because you are moving faster and get through it in less time. But if you don’t bring something that turns out to be necessary, it can lead to major problems. I’ve always believed in being pretty conservative when it comes to gear. I think it is really irresponsible to go out into the middle of nowhere unprepared, have something go wrong and have to rely on other people to rescue you. And when other people have to help you, you are putting their health and well being at risk.
Summiting Mt. Whitney as a warmup
The trail to the top of Whitney is 11 miles long and it took me just under 5 hours, which I thought was pretty good with a full pack and at a very easy pace. But after the top I really started to feel the chill. I was running with every piece of clothing I brought and I was barley warm enough. My feet were even getting cold, but the kicker was that my water bottles were freezing while I was moving. I knew that meant the temps had to be in the low teens or even single digits. That is scary cold when, mentally, you are still in summer mode. I had to keep shaking my bottles to break up the ice and then when I wanted to drink I had to stop or at least slow way down and hold the spout in my mouth to warm it up for a minute and thaw it out. My finger tips were getting frost-nipped from holding those bottles. And drinking near freezing water doesn’t exactly warm you up from the inside.
I ran straight though the night—sleeping wasn’t an option at those temperatures up high. While climbing 3000 vertical feet up the 13,150 ft Forrester Pass, I realized that the stream water, though cold, was warmer than 32 deg. So whenever my bottles froze I would just stop and thaw and refill them at a stream. It was a painfully slow process that was brutal on my already cold hands, but at least I could keep going.
The descent off of Forrester was really chunky and slow, and very hard on the body and feet with the heavy pack.
Glen and Pinchot, both at about 12,000 ft, were next up. Everything is a 3000 ft climb around here, and that wouldn’t even be that bad if they started at sea level but out here the low valleys are still 8 or 9,000 ft high. The terrain is incredibly sparse, most of this is above tree line, so it is just rock as far as the eye can see. With nothing to eat up there, the animals stay away; I don’t think I saw anything other than squirrels and a few buzzards the whole way.
The next morning I was on my way up Muir Pass. This is the real ‘hump’ of the JMT. It is about the 100 mile mark, and the last high pass. On paper the trail is all ‘down hill’ from here. The dry air was killing my throat and sinuses. My throat was so inflamed it was hard to swallow and my nose was constantly filled with dried blood. Structurally I felt perfect, I only had one small blister, and while I didn’t feel super fast, I felt like I was on ‘auto-pilot’ mode—I could run forever as long as I had enough food and water. I ran into Dan Patitucci on the backside of Muir Pass. He had run over Lamarck Col to meet me and do some photos for Patagonia. I was surprised I didn’t meet more people on the trail, and even more surprised that people really didn’t stop and talk. You would think that hikers who might go days without seeing another person and would really take the opportunity to connect with another human for a few minutes. Rarely did anyone say more than hello, and barely made eye contact. But I guess it is a different breed that does long trails, and the JMT and PCT thru hikers do it specifically to get away from people.
By the time I reached McClure meadow, down the valley from Muir Pass I had gone 2 nights without any sleep, and was on my intended pace to do the trail in  4 ½ days. It had been a big mistake to start this run at 5pm, it meant that I would have to do an extra night, and the nights proved to be cold and slow.
……to be continued

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

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The 2010 Sellaronda Ski Marathon

Mar 6th, 2010
by dolomitesport.
9 comments

While laying in bed Friday morning March 5, an SMS came in from my friend Andreas Irsara, “I am sick, can you take my place in the Sellaronda?” My life rule of saying “Yes” to all cool opportunities was adhered to, I jumped up and began packing, the race was the same day.

The Sellaronda Ski Marathon is 42 kilometers (26 miles) with 2800 meters (9280 feet) of climbing. It goes straight up, then straight down 4 times around the Dolomites famous Sella Mountain group and is done in teams of two which must stay together throughout the course. It starts at 6 o’clock, p.m…

In the last couple of years I have gotten pretty into this ski rando racing here in the Dolomites, but until this race I hadn’t done a truly big International event. The Sellaronda is part of the World Cup and as such would draw some big firepower.

My partner for the race was Werner Pescosta, a friend from the Val Badia and also part of the same team I am on for cycling and ski rando racing. Werner is a 2:30 marathoner, extraordinarily strong cyclist, built like a lumberjack and is known for being able to put away 3 pizzas, 5 liters of beer and 7 banana splits, all at once. It was his 13th Sellaronda, it was my first. I knew I was in for it, I have seen Werner in action, he squares his shoulders, puts his head down, and charges like a bull in Pamplona. My job was to stay with him amongst 740 participants.

-20 degrees and very windy up high. Up high, as in where we were headed. This was the forecast for the race. We went to sign in wearing only thin lycra one piece suits. I was already shivering. The start was in the village of Canazei, a classic Italian Dolomite ski town sitting beneath both the Sella Group and Marmolada. Thanks to Werner’s previous years fast times, we had a good starting position near the front, key for not getting tangled up on the first climb.

The entire village, along with every ski tourist and supporting friends were on hand for the start. The sound of cowbells filled the air and only stopped for a moment of silence for the race’s founder, Diego Perathoner, who was tragically lost in an avalanche this winter while trying to help others.

It was time to start, 5:50 pm, and in the day’s last light. The gun fired, we set out into the night and up our first climb of the Passo Sella. As is typical in Europe, race starts are an explosion of lycra and the sounds of scurrying bodies and heavy breathing. We wound our way on a narrow track through the village beneath fans screaming from balconies and windows. Many were swinging cowbells with enthusiasm to match that of the athletes – it was the classic European scene and sound that we Americans love about watching bike or ski races. Once we punched out from the confines of the town we were on the first climb. It was here that the helicopter rose from the slopes ahead and began following our progress. I remember thinking to myself how I am trying to introduce this amazing sport to the US, where it is basically unknown, and here we have hovering helicopters. In ski rando racing, I am playing a game that I know many friends and like minded people would be as happy as myself to take part in. I looked up ahead to the towering vertical walls of the Sella, neon pink and orange as the sun called it a day. My goosebumps weren’t only because of the cold, I was in heaven.

The Sellaronda's first pass of four, the Sella

We climbed. Werner and I found ourselves up near the front as we arrived to the Sella Pass where we removed our skins, took some hot tea and began the first descent, in the dark, on piste. Here I was baptized. The experience was more like a video game, torches lined the piste and in the pitch black we plummeted, turning was not an option, instead you tuck like a World Cup downhiller and point your tips to the bottom. The darkness, as it always does, plays tricks. Small rolls on the slope looked like massive dropoffs and I expected to be airborne anytime. It was a combination of bliss and terror.

Arriving to Selva di Gardena we were once again met with screaming fans, hundreds lined the street which we had to run down while carrying our skis. Back to the transition zone, on with the skins and back into climbing mode. The Gardena Pass is the shortest of the bunch and went relatively quickly, but here signs of fatigue were beginning to show with the pack breaking up and becoming more spread out. And here I too began to hurt, more so as I watched Werner clearly wanting to power away.

Once on top, the speed began again, we dropped like missiles to our Valley, the Alta Badia. Screaming into the town of Corvara we were met by a huge crowd swarming the transition zone, Werner and I, in the local team kit, were the stars and our arrival was announced to the fans, “Arrivano Werner Pescosta ed Andreas Irsara”……. I was Andreas, my name had not been changed on the start list. But, a priceless moment followed, for Andreas, otherwise known as Tata, is one of the Valley’s loverboys, a true Casanova with a large female fanclub, and it was this fan base that I heard screaming with delight. As I stood in the mayhem I laughed out loud as friends called me Tata, but Werner soon grabbed me and again we started to climb.

The third climb, the Campolongo, is a bitch. A long flattish section through a forest lulls you into a state of exhaustion, then the track rears up, straight up for about 800 meters. Pain was now becoming a companion. Every gram that I have saved at the cost of many hundreds of Euros and Janine’s dismay, was truly appreciated. Werner’s ski tails were just ahead yet I could not stay on them, I wanted this section to end. My own post of Born to Run Ski Bike Climb came to mind and I thought to myself that this was the moment I had been writing about, when you look inward and see some truths about what you feel, and what I felt was good. Above, the crystal clear night revealed endless stars twinkling as they always do, I peered behind and below me to discover that I was followed by an endless stream of headlamps, twinkling in their own way.

Finally the top and my spirits soared, I grabbed some dried fruit as Werner helped remove my skins. Werner claims to hate water as it is a waste of space that could be better utilized by beer. He passed on the tea, and encouraged me to move. 4 minutes later we were 2200 feet below in Arraba.

The last climb, the Passo Pordoi is my favorite pass to ride on the bike. But tonight, it was the venue from hell. 3 hours in the well below zero temps with high speed descents in lycra were catching up. My core was frozen, all 130 lbs of me were stiff and achey. I was a Dansicle.

Up we went, but this time Werner disappeared ahead, I was hurting. My left leg so tight and frozen I could barely slide it, my hands so numb I just thought it best to forget them. No matter how hard I worked I couldn’t warm up. It was difficult to see teams pass us when I was keeping Werner back, but nothing could make me go any faster. I just put my head down and slid along. Finally, the brightly lit pass was just ahead and I knew the mental suffering was about to end. I vaguely remember seeing a huge group of skiers holding fiery torches descend the piste in perfect arcing turns. Fans were once again lining the course screaming, “Forza Forza” and here I thought to turn my grimace to a smile, something I learned a long time ago. A smile flashing across the face is like a restart. But I was too frozen, my cheeks wouldn’t flex. Arriving to the top I realized just how cold I was. I couldn’t pop off the skins and I could not get my fingers to close my boots. Somehow, from someone, it all came together and we were dropping into the darkness one final time for the 3000 foot descent to the finish line.

A frozen body combined with tired legs made for a wobbly descent. I tucked in behind someone, maybe three meters from the ends of his poles when suddenly he careened out of control and began tumbling on the icy snow. I swerved around him and continued alone through the darkness. I thought it would never end, and somehow this was okay, but soon the lights from Canazei came into view and I knew I had skied around the Sella, I knew a magnificent experience was coming to a close.

Arriving into the finishing straight I had to find Werner, he was waiting, he descended like Bode while I descended like Bambi. I skied alongside, grabbed his arm and together we crossed the finish. He was looking at me the whole time with a huge grin, he knew I was psyched. Once stopped we were swarmed by girls, perhaps they thought I was Tata, but they were only there to make sure we were okay and to help us get out of our bindings. I am sure I was a mess, I couldn’t move I was so cold, they kept saying “A posto? A posto? Ma sei sicuro?” But I was okay, and once out of my skis I stood with Werner as a photographer approached, he pointed the camera at us and it was then I realized I was smiling after all, it was just frozen in place.

Werner Pescosta and Dan "Dansicle" Patitucci sporting a frozen smile

Without hesitation we headed away from the finish to find the car and warm clothes. But within minutes realized we were not just cold, we were desperate to get warm. I suggested we go into a hotel next to where we were standing. We went through the huge sliding doors in our one piece suits, carrying skis and looking like frozen mummies that Reinhold Messner might find stuck in a glacier. Of course having good taste, I had selected a four star hotel who’s lobby was another world, most noticeably a warm one.

I was half expecting to get the boot, but instead we were met by the concierges who knew were in some trouble. They helped us with our skis, brought us tea and made us comfortable in the lounge. A crowd gathered around to listen to Werner provide details as to our evening’s activities. I soaked it all in while trying to control my shivering and teeth chattering.

Finally, half an hour later, we were able to move. We found the car, put on every item of clothing we had brought, and headed straight for the pasta party. Once warm, life resumed normalcy.

In the end we were 59th out of 320 teams with a time of 4:10.31. It was the coldest ever Sellaronda. Thanks to Werner for showing an American the way, and some patience.

The Sellaronda Ski Marathon

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Born to Run Ski Bike Climb

Mar 4th, 2010
by dolomitesport.
2 comments

Scott Jurek's foot and shoes after Western States

Now we understand why the question was continually asked of us when we recently visited the US, “Have you read Born to Run?”. Until now, the answer was, “No”.

I typically avoid such books. I don’t read any How to Do anything, avoid “Self Help” as if it were death and entirely ignore any outdoor publications. Why? 1) I don’t want to be influenced by segments of the very media I work within. And 2) A lack of soul from some of these same segments. If I am going to read something it’s going to be either a good book or some favorite blog of someone speaking from the heart. Born to Run was like both.

For me, the book spoke to my own soul by clarifying what I have been processing for many years. What do endurance sports offer than just the sports themselves? Age has introduced me to some small tidbits of wisdom, thinking about these tidbits has given me some clarity, and practicing this clarity has brought me much happiness.

I don’t want to analyze the book or quote much, if this is something you’re interested in and you haven’t already read it, just go get a copy. But, I do want to bring up something as it pertains to endurance mountain sports. It is this idea of training your soul as much as your body.

At some point in the last years my outlook on sport evolved. The idea of “sport” changed to “my life”. I get up in the morning and I go do what I do in the mountains, be it trail running, skiing, climbing or cycling. It finally struck me that this is what I had been striving for. I wanted my life, my work and my passions to all be one and the same. To live my vision of the life I chose to pursue. Amongst all this time, about 15 years, I went to the mountains 300+ days a year, and I worked hard both physically and mentally. What it has given me is an understanding of myself, how I relate to others, and a happiness within both. Born to Run speaks to this. We were meant to run, or, we were meant to push ourselves both physically and mentally, thanks to the fact that we can push ourselves.

For some people, “sport” is an art form, and mountain sports are superb for this. Through sport you express yourself. It brings out the best and the worst in you. Compete and learn even more about who you are. Pay attention and learn some things. As you practice, it becomes apparent that what you are really doing is being creative with living. When I was a fulltime rock climber in the early 90′s I read a quote by the famous Italian climber Manolo, “Climbing is the Art of Movement”. From that moment on I looked at climbing as an art form that I wanted to learn so as to be able to express my own balanced movement. It changed how I climbed and has forever influenced me in my thinking. Identify your passion and then pursue and dedicate yourself to it as an artistic expression of your being. What greater medium can there be than your very own mind and body, their health and strength? The rewards are infinite.

Endurance sports are not going to provide the answer to the Meaning of Life, but maybe they will help us, as individuals, answer some of our own questions as to the Meaning of our own Life.

Scott Jurek and Ann Trason at the Western States 100 Mile Race

Scott Jurek in the 2002 Western States 100 Mile Race

In 2002 I photographed my first Ultra Marathon, The Western States 100. What I saw was as influential as the line from Manolo. I saw what was possible by those pushing beyond supposed limits. I decided I had to experience the same things to learn something about myself.

The first location from where I had to shoot was at about mile 50. I knew Scott Jurek was leading the race and was well off the front. Having never seen a 100 mile race, I suspected the runners would slowly hobble through at only the halfway point of 100 miles and 100 degree heat. With my camera set up and ready to shoot on a long straight stretch, we waited. Finally, our spotter whistled, Scott was coming. I looked through the viewfinder and got ready to focus and fire. But when Scott came into site I quickly realized, this was something special. He was flying. Having just gone through an aid station he was eating and emitting grunts as he forced the food down. I doubt he knew we were there, we were like voyeurs into his private world. The passionate lover of human potential took over in me, instead of making photos I looked up and began screaming for him. Thankfully I managed a few shots and this one, because it is so very real, is my favorite.

Ann Trason in the 2002 Western States 100 Mile Race

The legend Ann Trason, La Bruja, in Born to Run. All of the same feelings and emotions I had for Scott were repeated when, not far behind, Ann came through. These are perhaps the greatest ultrarunners ever.

Scott Jurek after running 100 miles in a little more than 16 hours

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Mountain Huts in Alaska?

Feb 26th, 2010
by dolomitesport.
1 comment

Dan & Janine Patitucci of PatitucciPhoto will be presenting a show on the European Hut System to the City of Anchorage March 18, 2010. The shows purpose is to demonstrate all that is possible through the culture of mountain huts and to ask the question, “Is America Ready for the Hut System?”.

Why? …..Because Alaska wants real mountain huts and the wheels are turning to get them. Imagine heading north to Alaska for hut to hut ski tours, hiking trips and for accessing alpine climbs. Visit Alaska Huts for more information.

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