Runneling the Tetons

We had been hearing that the Tetons had a good snow year and were at 175% of normal snowpack and that people were galloping up and down the Grand, so as the temps climbed and the snowpack declined in the Wasatch we looked to get out and check out our northern neighbors without an agenda or grand ambitions.  Of course, that also meant that we needed to check in with Drew, since not only is his place one of the nicest little cabins on the planet on the edge of Lupine Meadows, but he's a stellar host as well.  And if you happen to have an issue, it's not often to have a friend who had received a Medal of Valor from the Department of the Interior!

Our first morning we were awakened by the sound of munching:

An elk more interested in us than the nice view of Teewinot

 We were a little surprised at how high the snow line was, but we found later that it's been quite warm and dry in the Tetons for the last month and the snowpack went from "big" to "average".  Not a big deal, just a bit more walking in shoes.

One of the biggest problems with going to a place like that is with so many amazing choices, what to do?  We were on a pretty mellow, recon-sort of pace, and decided that Disappointment Peak - right in the heart of the "big" peaks there, with amazing views and some good ski options - was the best bet to start on.  A nice moderate hike through the woods and some challenging skinning perched on the rims between tree wells brought us to a nice view of our intended line:

The "football field"and the Spoon Couloir spilling off of it above Surprise Lake, or maybe Amphitheater lake; I can't remember.... 

so it was good that we had a burly mountain man to point out the obvious:

"look!  there it is!"

We charged on up and indeed had amazing views:

agape-ing at the views, and apparently looking for my bike

 One of the things about spring skiing is the possibility of runnels and sun cups.  I think we were a little late this season, because they were around in abundance.  That super-mellow football field was actually pretty challenging, since - as Colin put it - it's like trying to ski back and forth across inconsistent railroad tracks.  But finally we got to the couloir, which was a bit less cupped.

Colin navigating the smaller railroad tracks

It had softened enough that the small runnels were buffable. 

It's a fun line

 On our way out we saw a bunch of folks - including little kids -postholing in the deepening afternoon slop on a nice family hike somewhere in the vicinity of a trail that was several feet deep.  We felt like calling Drew to tell he and his Jenny Lake rescue team to not make any plans for that evening since they might be busy!

We then decided to head for nearby Buck Peak, since it looked like there was not only more snow up there but also a bit more north facing lines that may not be as cupped/runnelled.  As it turned out, we got nearby, but a small storm moved in:

And following our noses through the fog got us to....Static Peak.  Which was fine; there's a great line off the top of that as well.  But the Runnelfest continued in a bit bigger way, and while it was nice to boot up the "tracks" and we could sorta clamp the whippets on either side of the runnel ribs it was pretty dicey skiing.

Possible cover photo for Runnel Magazine?  

 We did find one short, south facing shot that had softened enough and wasn't quite as beat up:

 And again the views were amazing and the recon was really helpful.  We just need to get up there a little earlier next time.

That night we were hosted by Zinnia and her trail crewmates up on the Blackrock river, where we feasted on meat that was brewed all-night in a pit barbecue that would have made any Texas or Southern pit barbecuers proud:

Another fun run along the Valley trail (which I regretfully bypassed last summer on a great circumnav run with Jason and Jared) and nice jaunt up the dramatic Death Canyon and we were heading for the barn.

However, for a variety of reasons I had never been in Jackson at the time when the legendary Kings Wave was firing, so by coincidence the river was at an optimum level and we had our boats, so we did a nice surf session

It may look like just sitting there, but I swear....I'm doing something!  

At least this looks like something is happening

Brother Paul having a Riot

It's nice the whitewater kayaking  is dying enough to the point that such an awesome wave with a phat eddy was nearly empty on a Sunday afternoon!

Thanks again to Drew and Zin for their great hosting and to Paul and Colin for the fun weekend and all the above pics!

Water

"Whiskey is for drinking; water is for fighting over."
- This quote has been attributed to Mark Twain, but until the attribution can be verified, the quote should not be regarded as authentic.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about water.  This historically has been common for me this time of year, because snowmelt season also means paddling season, but when I realized some years ago that I lived in the desert and paddling is – at best – challenging, water took on a bit less meaning.  But this year has been different, partly because I read the excellent “River Republic” by Dan McCool (who has the best last name ever) that’s essentially a much-more-readable update to the legendary tome “Cadillac Desert”, partly because I was stunned to hear Jerry Brown declare a state of emergency drought in California in January,  the arrival of the annual sprinkler systems watering Kentucky Bluegrass in Salt Lake in April (historically one of the wettest months), and a trip to western Washington, where water is literally bubbling out of the ground everywhere. 

Just one of the zillions of random WA creeks that has as much water as one of Salt Lake's main water supplies 

The Wasatch had a pretty lean snow year to start, but a snowy March/April brought the snowpack up to effectively “average”, though I realized this year that our water managers care naught for anything below about the base level for the ski resorts; we had almost no backcountry skiing below 8000 feet this year.  Now Big and Little Cottonwood creeks are gushing happily from their high elevation snowmelt, the water managers are happy, and our slice of the desert Southwest's perpetual water woes (essentially in place because the Colorado River Compact was created after a several-year cycle of big water years and before major population shifts to the SoCal and the Southwest) has been staved off for another year.  But whither this water?  I know that if by some remote chance SLC mayor Ralph Becker or his water chief Jeff Neimeyer reads this they’ll be deeply offended, but our “watersheds” are pretty weird:  you can’t have dogs in the canyons that hold the water and you can’t swim in the alpine lakes, but apparently you can have a freeway (Parley’s canyon), 3000 inhabitants (Big Cottonwood Canyon), multiple ski resorts and major, well-traveled highways that are salted many times a year that all drain that salt, antifreeze, transmission fluid, oil:

“Apr 30, 2014 - A truck crash in Parley's Canyon has led to a large oil spill and snarled traffic Wednesday.”

 Or turkeys:

Turkey truck crash into Utah reservoir sparks fears of contamination

directly into our “protected” drinking water sources 

However, despite our best efforts to the contrary, the water stays remarkably good thanks to Ma Nature.  And once in SLC it is treated and comes out – as Mr. Neiermeyer loves to point out – as some of the purest water in the country.  Now, I’m no water expert, but I do know that in Washington and Oregon the municipal watersheds are….absolutely, positively, off-limits.  Portland’s Bull Run river watershed is entirely and literally fenced off, and trespassing is a major deal.  A far cry from ski resorts, highways, communities with septic systems, and freeways (but NO DOGS! And NO SWIMMING!).  But, I guess if you put enough chlorine (aka, according to The Wiki: “a toxic gas that irritates the respiratory system”)  it becomes potable. 

The ironic thing is that – after paying for this purification with our tax dollars - we then put 60-70% of it on our lawns (and a recent study pointed out that something like 90% of US households don’t even “use” their lawns much/at all), poo and whizz in much of what’s left, and then…..we don’t even drink it! 

Acording to this site: http://www.bottledwater.org/files/2011BWstats.pdf  they proudly state that the average American drinks almost 30 gallons of bottled water per year.  I must say, hats off to the likes of Dasani (aka Coke), AquaFina (aka Pepsi), Arrowhead (aka Nestle), and others whose marketeers realized that people will exchange their hard-earned money for….water that they can get out of their own tap!  And it’s not cheap:  the other day at the grocery store I saw bottled water that varied between $0.02/oz to $0.06/oz,  which doesn’t sound like much until you realize that at 128 ounces to the gallon that we are paying between $2.50 and $7.50 per gallon for water.  Compared to gasoline that has been extracted from the earth, transported as crude halfway around the world on a boat, refined into high-octane gas, and then trucked to gas stations for practically the same price or even much less….bottled water is not a sweet deal.  It’s even more expensive than cheap beer! Good marketing indeed.  But at least Dasani and others are simply tap water that is also trucked across the country and packaged in plastic containers that are far more expensive than their contents (but they love to greenwash themselves in envirospeak by touting how much recycled content they use!  C’mon, are we that gullible?!?!  I guess the answer is…yes, we are that gullible…..)

Then ironically, the outdoor business has done a great job of telling people that water that comes out of the ground out in the backcountry is….bad.  I don’t know the industry sales numbers for water purifiers, but it’s huge, and virtually everyone I know has been convinced that naturally-occurring water is full of squirmy, gut-busting amoebas and protozoas that are certain to make your bowels explode at very inopportune times.  If you come to a stream and are thirsty and out of water, you might was well continue your parch march because it’s absolutely certain that there is a Great Poo Party going on right upstream, just out of sight with all of these guys just squatting over your water source and havin’ one:

So we don’t drink backcountry spring or snowmelt water but we are willing to drink chlorine and flouride treated water?  To be sure, Ash reminds me that I have never had giardia so I don’t know what it’s like, but I know it’s not pleasant. 

Ash going up high in the "drainage" of a spring to avoid the Poo Party

However, Tinadazole is a very effective one-shot drug that was approved in the US in 2004 that effectively replaces Flagyl, which was a weeklong course and ravaged anyone who drank alcohol during the course.  But regardless of treatment, according to the CDC, giardia is not quite as well-understood as the likes of Katadyn and the other purifiers would like us to think it is, and there is a far-higher likelihood of getting giardia from food handlers and from public pools than backcountry water sources. 

At the aptly-named Dog Lake.....I was actually just kidding here; I do draw the line.....

As noted earlier and is well known by now, despite late-season snowfalls California is hurting badly for water.  One look at Dreamflows site http://dreamflows.com/flows.php?page=real&zone=canv&form=norm&mark=All that CA paddlers use is pretty shocking considering it’s typically peak snowmelt time.  Our friends Chris and Rebecca in Ventura took Governor Brown’s declaration seriously and looked at all the ways that they could do their part to save water; one example is to catch the water that runs cold before the shower turns hot, and this gets about a gallon or more of water that they then use in their toilet (I had no idea that a toilet will flush if you just pour enough water in the bowl; some sort of toilet siphoning magic….).

 

Chris capturing

and then using! 

Ironically, Californians already has had historically-decent water conservation, and equally ironically, Utah and Nevada – the two driest states in the nation – have the highest per-capita water useage (the average Utahn uses 295 gallons/day).  But some civic leaders are recognizing that these habits may not be sustainable:  Las Vegas wanted southern Utah water in a big way but UT Governor Herbert shut that down, much to the fury of Nevadans.  But that’s as far as Herbert will go; there will only be a call to conserve when things get acute and he and other politicians will continue to promote water-intensive fracking, coal mining, and even nuclear power (Green River) and development (St George will likely get a taxpayer-financed pipeline from Lake Powell for $1 billion – that is $500 for every citizen in the state!  I’m not that psyched to subsidize their golf course manicures).  In the meantime, our gutters will run with valuable (up to $7/gallon!) water overflowing supersaturated lawns.  And states like Utah subsidize use with tax dollars so consumers don't get the "real" cost in their bills, so there is less incentive to conserve.  And business meetings – like the one I was at yesterday at a place with “Environmental” as part of their name – will continue to serve bottled water at their meetings. 

The purpose of my rant?  Of course, first and foremost it’s simply to rant – and perhaps rave, though not much of that was happening here – but the other is to remind us all that pretty much aside from the rainy side of OR and WA the rest of us here in the West live in deserts or near-deserts, yet we are ferocious water users and that simple actions like not flushing for whizz, taking short showers, not thoroughly washing dishes under a running tap before then washing them in the dishwasher, and being strategic about watering our yards (and/or letting go of the green grass concept) can go a long ways towards keeping our communities viable.  It’s simply embarrassing to be irresponsible water users.  And - this one is simple - don’t drink bottled water.   Despite what I said above, our water – and realistically, ALL municipal water supplies – are good to go, or they would not be “municipal water supplies.”

Recreating in Washington

Though I love to live in Utah, I love to visit Washington.  From a recreation perspective, it rivals anywhere:  the proximity of mountains, rivers, and ocean means that they are very complementary to each other, and as such the quality of recreation is nearly unmatched.  If you are into something in the outdoors Washington has it, and usually in a pretty big way.  Over the last dozen years I’ve explored Washington more than I ever did when I lived in adjacent Oregon, which seems crazy considering that we now live in Utah, but at the time I guess I was pretty content with Oregon and now my tastes have “matured” a bit more and I need the added stimulation that Washington’s bigger terrain provides.   So when we had a window of time to go out on a road trip and Ash wanted to start in Washington (she flew out to tear around with her mom for a few days) and have me come meet her with all the toys on the roof, I was all in, and while we had absolutely no agenda, we knew that Washington would deliver, and right we were! 

After crushing myself doing the annual Grandeur Peak Fun Run and then foolishly deciding to do another “lap” - unaccustomed to the “high” heat that was all of 80 degrees - and then joining Scott and Rachel for their annual combo May birthday soiree I hammered out to Portland in a day.  Approaching P-town up the Columbia river gorge it was raining, and after the brain cookage of the day before it was great to splash up the Eagle Creek trail as a couple-mile leg stretcher; no matter how many times I hike in The Gorge I never cease to be amazed at how amazing that place is:  as deeply-emerald green as anywhere in the world, with more beautiful streams and waterfalls in a few miles than Utah has in the entire state! 

After some good work and socializing with the likes of Chuck Roth, Team Connnell, P.Ecker, and Blair I blasted up to Seattle where I was able to reconnect with Eric Fahlman and his family:

 

I think that’s Claire’s version of “Blue Steel” 

And then grabbed Ash after she had done a few days of tromping around with her mom on the Olympic Peninsula.  As a reference for recreation quality, that peninsula by itself has recreation that would make other entire western states blush with envy: an unusual and gigantic rain forest with a wild coastline, big and remote ski descents, hundreds of miles of rivers that go from mild to wild, incredible cycling, etc.  We had talked about spending much of our trip out on the peninsula (there was the potential for a backpack in to ski Mount Olympus and then float packrafts back out) but we headed for the nearby Cascades instead. First on our list was Mount Ruth; a little-known peak in the Shuksan/Baker area that Ash had skied many moons ago and remembered as being remote, fun, and pretty mellow (we were a bit chastened by the reports of an avalanche fatality on Shuksan just a few days prior; the NW’s late-season hammerfest of snow apparently meant that the ‘pack needed a bit more time to settle down).  

It was an awesome day; a longish and awkwardly-slow approach:

apparently the NW gets its share of avalanches as well

 means that not many people go in there, and we saw no indication that anyone had been in there this spring. But with some perseverance we saw what we'd come for:

 After a few hours we were on top oggling at Shuksan (foreground) and Baker (background:

and the very-remote and rugged Pickett range:

There's apparently a 45 mile burly traverse that's a 4-5 day adventure, or maybe one day if you're the Dorais brothers! 

we took the gratuitous summit selfie:

or two:

and then sliced our way down perfect corn for 2700 feet down to the valley floor:

 where we slogged back out.  

Alders are a tough go.

I've been thinking of doing a website called "Great Trees of the Wasatch", but after being back in the NW I think I should call it "pretty mediocre trees of the Wasatch!"

And given that it’s Washington, not too much farther down the valley was a really nice class 3-4 paddle on the North Fork Nooksack, before we headed up a nearby access road to go hit Mt Baker. 

Even though Mount Baker is only 10,800 feet, it seems long because the access points are all in the 3500’ range, making for a 7000’ gain to the summit.   As such, many mountaineers consider it to be a 2-day trip.  But we just wanted to get up and ski some good corn, so we got a medium-early start of 5:30 start (it gets light early up here in the Great North!) and charged up the trail for a couple of miles with normal ski packs, started skinning at about 5500 feet, and hit the top of the Coleman glacier easily by mid-morning:

We took one little run to take advantage of a different aspect corning up and then the cherry line of a several-thousand foot descent down the heart of the Coleman in great corn.  

As we approached treeline we saw a crew hiking up with full packs and all their climbing gear doing some heinous post-holing in slush, and I realized that one of the reasons that people buy big heavy mountaineering boots is because they believe the old-school Mountaineers’ mantra that more than 5000’ in a day is not really possible, so instead they slog through mid-afternoon slop – which mandates high, waterproof boots that still get wet and take hours/days to dry – in order to make a high camp where they spend their evening hours melting snow before going to bed early to wake up early to melt even more snow before going up to the top and then – after breaking camp – heading back down in postholey slush!  Ergo the need for big boots, I ‘spose…..

We ended up down in Bellingham where we were able to make the first of our many stops at the Organic, Free-range, Sustainable, Hormone-free, Local, Artisan, Tractor-Free...

No joke.....this farm is done exclusively by true horse power, taking the whole politically-correct produce to a new level!

 Co Op grocery stores that seem to be everywhere in Washington.  The forecast was for a little light rain, which bode well to shred a huge open-space area adjacent to town that is  mountain-bike only with a zillion trails!  However, as former Northwesteners we should have recognized that “light rain” is a bit of a euphemism for “deluge” and the next morning we hastily threw our soggy stuff in the car and did what lots of Washingtonians do:  Head East. 

The Methow Valley on the eastern end of the North Cascades highway is a pretty special place.  It’s in the rain shadow of the Cascades yet is tucked up close enough that it still is able to partake in the range’s copious snow, and while it has all the acoutrements of a resort town…. it is without the resort!  Which makes it great; so much so that there was an essay about it  - in an anonymous form – in the Winter 2014 Patagonia catalog.   Even though it’s always been a “secret” destination for rich Seattlelites and their second homes, the fact that the pass is closed all winter means it’s about a 5 hour trip there, which has kept the resort predators at bay and let the locals and Washington’s nordic diehards have their 220 km (not a typo!) of groomed trails mostly to themselves.  And the unplowed highway provides (snowmobile) access to world-class backcountry ski terrain with great powder in the winter and good corn in the spring when the road opens.  We had another stellar day of great north and south-facing corn off Rainy Pass (in the last few days the snowpack had gone from unconsolidated to isothermic; the beauty of Spring). 

skinning up above Lake Ann, with the North Cascades Highway down in the valley

Putting the Voile ski crampons to work! 

Nice form on nice corn.

crossing a bit nervously given the open water

And again we were able to not only shred nearby singletrack on foot and on bike:

The arrowhead balsamroot was out in full glory in WA as well as the Wasatch.

but also take advantage of the snowmelt and paddle the excellent Black Canyon of the Methow with our old buddy Jonathan Baker:

JB center, with his buddy Jeff

who with Margaret is on the verge of finishing up their cool 600 sq foot home on a 5 acre spread near Winthrop:

  In addition, Ash’s cousin Jeff and Molly live at the base of Patterson Mountain and it was great to see them (and visit Molly’s Organic, Free-range, Sustainable, Hormone-free, Local, Artisan, Tractor-Free grocery store in Twisp. 

Team Patterson

One interesting side note of the Methow portion of our trip was when we first pulled into the Organic, Free-range, Sustainable, Hormone-free, Local, Artisan, Tractor-Free bakery/store in the upcanyon hamlet of Mazama there were a lot of cars parked there and lots of fit-looking people wandering around, and it turns out that the annual Memorial Day 10k trail race was about to start.  On a whim I decided to enter, and was fortunate that the kiddie 1k race happened first so I had a few minutes to warm up.  Given the Methow’s renown for its nordic skiing I figured that this race would have some competition, and sure enough I immediately bumped into two-time Olympian Laura McCabe (whom I’d met once in a hot spring in CA in the mid-90’s and again climbing in Wyoming a few years ago) who then introduced me to a guy with the description of “He was an Olympian this year in Sochi!”  Ah, indeed, don’t let me get in the way of you moving to the front of the starting line! 

Everyone charged off the line, and soon enough I found myself alongside a couple of girls who came up to about my elbow who were very seriously cranking along at about 6:00 mile pace!  Not surprisingly, it turns out that it was Laura’s daughter, and there were other high-school looking types who were surrounding me and going at a good clip as well.  But once the 5k folks turned off I found myself in 5^th place behind nordic wunderkind and a few others.  I had the 4^th place guy in sight and was able to keep him at the same gap that started to close as we entered the last couple of miles.  Remembering my bike racing tactics I took took a couple of deep breaths as I came up behind him and pushed a little harder on the pedals to veritably charge past him, and this brought me to within sight of the 3^rd place guy, whom I caught with about a half-mile to go.  At this point we turned into a stiff headwind, so again bike-style I tucked in and hung out to see how the sprint would be.

Now if I had an Achilles heel, it would be my sprint.  I think I was made up of about 99% slow twitch muscles even back in the day when I was a kid, and my mid-distance running career was pretty much a series of tales of hammering through to the almost-end of every race and then having whoever was nearby easily blow by me to the line as I watched in frustration. Once I started bike racing I thought perhaps the tactical/wind component of The Sprint might work in my favor, but the stories still remained the same; I couldn’t outsprint anyone, ever. 

So as I was sitting behind this guy after charging pretty hard to catch him and being pretty dang tired/sore from going at a relatively high pace that I haven’t run at in a long time I wondered if I would watch yet another guy run to the line in front of me.  But as we turned the last corner to the finish line I felt surprisingly confident and when he predictably surged I experienced a sensation I have rarely had in too-many years of these silly events:  I kicked and blew him away in the last 100 yards for the last “podium” spot (if indeed there had been a podium for the mighty Mazama 10k!).  Pretty fun.  

Post-race I was chatting with my fellow competitors, and the fourth place guy told me “I drove for over an hour to get to this race”  Really?  Where from?   “Yeah, I’m training for Ironman Canada”  Really?  Wow, that sounds hard.  “Yeah, I might do a sprint tri on Monday”  hmm.  Really.  Fascinating.  “I also do a lot of mountain bike racing” Uh, yeah…..great. Starting to look around for an exit from this conversation....  “I ran a 16:48 5k a couple of weeks ago, and I find 10k’s to be a weird distance for me, and I think this course was a little slow.”  Umm…I need to go trim my toenails.  But hey, it’s been great listening to you……

Ash and I did a nice ride that afternoon that was ended in one of the Methow’s singletrack Meccas, and Ash had gotten to an intersection before me and started chatting with a couple of nice folks there.  After she told them we were from SLC and were on a fun road trip with the toys the woman suddenly asked “Are you with Tom Diegel?”  OMG, really?  It was Caitlin, who had moved to Seattle from Vermont after doing the Grand Canyon with Team Middlebury, the New Hampshire Canyoneering society, and me!  

  I am not sure if the world is truly that small, or the circles that we travel in are just tiny……

After the Methow we moved on to the recreation mecca of Leavenworth, where we were able to do some great paddling on the Wenatchee river - with it’s renowned play spots at medium-high flows and a brewpub at the takeout:

Only in Washington....

 one of the “best rides ever” (Devil’s Gulch/Mission Ridge/Red Hill):

a 10 mile, 3000' singletrack climb/descent

this guy greeted us in Yakima Canyon

We did a little flat two mile hike and got back to the car, where we met these guys.  They had biggish packs, trekking poles, and were stretching (above) in preparation for the hike.  We asked them what they were doing, because clearly we had missed something more energetic, but no, they were doing the same flat 2 mi hike!  

and other great runs/rides as we worked our way to Yakima for some excellent Patterson family time. 

There are times when we do trips that we want to leave the car and all its trappings behind, and that’s when we do multi-day river trips and bike tours.  But Washington’s amazing quality and density of daylong adventures meant that this trip – combined with some equally-high quality socializing with excellent people – was super worthy, and we actually have already penned in spring trip next year to our (second?) favorite state.