Tuesday, December 29, 2009


I say that it doesnt really matter what you do or how you get there. in the end, i say, its all about the skis on the snow. its all about the exploration and the beauty and the wild, the wind and the weather and the sky. it sucks when it takes a day of traveling, fighting crowds, and general urban assaulting to get there. it can even suck when you have to sit in line with the string of luxury vehicles and two wheel drive sedans to find a spot to park, but when you take your skis off to hike a ridge above one of canada's longest lift serviced ski-able glaciers with the afternoon light pouring through the clouds and the high peaks. that doesnt matter. that is why i like to ski i say. that is what its about.



Sunday, December 27, 2009

the good life


Its been a long time since i've found a whole album that i really enjoy listening to, for the whole thing. Kid Cudi's Man on the Moon has been spinning in my head for the last weeks, and what a fine bit of lyrical artistry it is. Lots of energy in there, lots of feeling. Especially Heart of a Lion and Up Up and Away, two awesome songs.
Winter break is running its course, skied almost every day, rockin a new pair of fischer skate skis, like a flashy majik carpet to carry me through the snowy woods. so fast, i find myself anaerobic at the top of hills, head thrown down because these skis really fly, and my sorry carcass has a hard time keeping up.


great tracks up at eldo, almost sad to be leaving the country for a week, i will certainly miss the rails through the woods, the white magik flowing. antelope and zarlengos, deadmans and sawmill, breathing that energy of skiing that provides my light in the dark, i will miss you


third, i knit my own mittens, and its good stuff: satisfactory production. I'm not gloating about skills here, i'm saying that its damn cool to make your own shit. from a ball of string and a few pointy sticks. sure, these aren't no hestra guide mitts, they dont have any thinsulate, no gortex, no fleece, just straight up hand spun wool. and, while i would not take these on an everest expedition, they work just as well, if not better than the two pairs pairs of OR, and one pair of swix, nordic gloves that probably fetched over $40, and they are more comfortable, plus the half a ball of yarn that it took probably only cost around $8. If you are going to knit your own mittens, dont pay attention to books or the internet, have a friend teach you how to make the stitches, and figure it out on your own, thats the way to do it. Dont worry about stitch counts, kfbs or k3p3. fuck that noise. make your own shit. Its way more fun and way more satisfying, and then use it. go out and ski in it.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Tuesday, December 8, 2009


-24˚F when I woke up this morning. Even the heater going full boar in the room couldn't hold back the quarter inch of ice that built itself on the window the night before. Here, hats are a must for entering the world that everyone works so hard to isolate themselves from. Even when the sun shines, it approaches at such a low angle, solar radiation fails to provide enough energy to feel any real difference in temperatures between the sun and the shade. Steam billows out of mouths - breathing through your nose freezes boogers in a second - escaping bodies to return to the frozen world swirling around.

I take some pride in weather like this, I don't wrap my face and hands in a variety of thinsulated brand name accessories, I like sticking my face right out into the cold. Its good for the heart to walk out in this weather without an excess of material - wandering around all bundled up is just another way of decreasing your self reliance. A good jacket, sturdy pants, and a hat are all you really need. Gloves, for sure, if you need to do work, but it is good to feel the cold air on skin, its good to know and trust the heat that your body can produce.

Skiing in sub zero temperatures exposed to wind and snow is another good test for your relation to the elements. Rather than piling on every pair of long johns you own, try removing layers until only the basics are left. Focus on the movements that make warmth. How cold can you really get? When your face feels cold, don't cover it up right away. I am not advocating loosing appendages to frostbite, but see what its like to face the air as if there were no scarfs or neck gaiters. Two days in a row subjected to blowing winds and a windchill that made alaskans shiver was enough to give my chin and cheek a bit of frost nip. No big deal, just a bit that looks like a scab just came off, a little peeling, but no real harm done. The pain was really minimal looking back, but it just makes you stronger.

I encourage everyone to push themselves to see how far they can go by themselves. Take the world head on with what you've got.

Monday, October 19, 2009

Somethin' filled up
my heart with nothin',
someone told me not to cry.

But now that I'm older,
my heart's colder,
and I can see that it's a lie.

Children wake up,
hold your mistake up,
before they turn the summer into dust.

If the children don't grow up,
our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up.
We're just a million little gods causin' rain storms turnin' every good thing to
rust.

I guess we'll just have to adjust.

With my lightnin' bolts a glowin'
I can see where I am goin' to be
when the reaper he reaches and touches my hand.

With my lightnin' bolts a glowin'
I can see where I am goin’
With my lightnin' bolts a glowin'
I can see where I am, go-go, where I am

You'd better look out below

-arcade fire

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Thursday, October 1, 2009

First snow up here in montana, almost 6" up in the hills. Requisite playtime in the hills.




Lou Dawson over at wildsnow.com is going for an ascent of denali next year, as a father son ski trip deal.



Here's my dad crossing a crevasse at 15,000 feet on the west buttress. Maybe we could do something like that....
photo from Glen Randall

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Why

Got that essay back yesterday evening. B. But only because I did not engage enough of the class readings. Despite the fact that the prompt was an exposition of "your personal quest for knowledge," and the whole purpose of my essay - literally the theme - was the useless nature of institutionalized education to my pursuit of knowledge. Somehow I managed to make a perfectly good point, support it with my 'own' evidence, and do it with, and I quote from the comments "beautiful language and spectacular imagery." but it is not really that good?
Luckily, it was still a B, because I really didn't mention any of the readings at all. And call me stubborn, but I didn't want to. Maybe its time for me to get off my fucking high horse and screw principle, and just give'r. With the straight objective of pleasing those other people. As much as I want to do my own thing, there seems to be a point, where, if you really want to go somewhere, you have to make compromises. Thats not really me though. I don't like to compromise. I think I'll stick with my principles, and fuck how your subjective judgement ranks my thoughts. Thats not what I'm here for.

From the student fellow, a co-teacher of sorts of the seminar which this essay was for, I received a lengthy review of my paper. Something that focused on the following situation.
"Sam,
...in many ways, it seems as though you'd rather choose to pack up and go live in the woods. Sam, I encourage you to follow your passions. University education is something special, no doubt. But, as you've illustrated in your paper, there are a million other ways to learn. Although these alternatives may not be deemed "worthy" by society, (or our parents) if that is where your knowledge lies, go chase it. University will always be there, but youth is diminishing everyday. Think about it."

Powerful words. It really does beg the question, what are you here for? I suppose its because I want to learn. Sometimes you have to sort through a lot of shit to find the gold. I guess thats what's going on for me. I'm sifting, you could say, through one grand stinking pile of shit. There's got to be something in here though. Something interesting, something I care about. Thats what I'm after. That and a good bit of skiing.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

I Got a Feeling

Sometimes I lay
under the moon
and thank God I'm breathing
then I pray
don't take me soon
cause i'm here for a reason
-Matisyahu, One Day



Radio Silence. Hectic, absurd radio silence.
At one point a few years ago, there was a huge urge to write. To explicate. A force to share whatever those thoughts were with whatever silent dark entity swirls about in the dark bits of internet anonymity. It was inspired, I won't lie. And any one who reads it knows it. It was out there. But it hasn't for a while. And subsequently, neither have I. Connections are drawn in this obscure web of computers, just like life. Twitch of the mouse, twitch of the eye, and here you have an intimate glimpse of life, not just life - Someone's Life- on another side, At one point, they were one in the same for me. Inspiration flowed, and so did I, with manufactured ideas pouring forth in some attempt to live live vicariously through myself. But It was cut off as all streams are. Eventuality rolls along swallowing all in its path.
Including me, life takes it away, drives out the very soul of the soul if you will. 30 days were spent, more than thirty days ago, in a place far away, and not at all like this, and in that state, life was reduced. There was nothing but the soul. It was pure. It was beautiful. And in that, flowed a lot of writing. Not inspired, not manufactured, only held, with will of the heart in that moment. Past is past, and stories can be told, but here we are. What the FUCK are you doing? I am writing. Its something that I suppose has been welling up for a time. But I find myself upon a section of cross-roads here. which one to take.

The calm silence of the morning splinters to pieces as the crushed can of Keystone Light flies across the room accompanied by a sharp expletive as I reach down to investigate my big toe for signs of damage from the offending bit of scrapped aluminum. Pain is a jolt, a sudden reprieve from the general fog that settled upon my brain sometime in hours since sleep first took hold the night previous. But the pain pales in comparison to the boredom that accompanies a day's worth of class. It is a common, if not desirable manner in which a good number of my days, and perhaps the start to career in the realm of higher education, begin, but it has been, for lack of a better word, inauspicious. The lifestyle itself is not entirely inglorious, for as many weeks as I have taken up residence, the sun shines beautifully across campus each day as the mornings warm into afternoons which stretch, just like the shadows, into long lazy evenings. The people who have made the same decision as myself to call this place home are far from disagreeable. It is no tale of fiction to say that I find the company of the other students enjoyable, especially as their interests coincide similarly with mine. What then, causes my hesitation at dealing praise of my present location?
A morning earlier, my eyes opened in instinct. A full number of REM cycles complete, my circadian rhythms brought about crystal clear consciousness and a particular alertness that comes only from a good night's sleep. The sun was not yet over the Bangtail mountains to the east, and a fine dew weighed on blades of grass bending them in two and giving the air a clean scent. The wheels begin to roll. Fast over the tacky brown earth, breath comes short and quick as the slope of the trail tilts upward and the air thins, scrub oak, juniper, ponderosa, and lodgepole pines give way to engleman spruce and douglas fir. Still higher, the trees fade to krumholtz, ancient twisted silhouettes of sub alpine fir, clinging to the very highest of the forest's reaches, tormented by the elements, and rarely exceeding six feet in height, these trees are on the front lines with the harshest of nature's blows. They huddle at the edge of high alpine tundra, bunched together like soldiers braced against the weather. The land assumes a barren quality at this elevation, but the starkness is only superficial. Close to the ground grow a hearty community of flora. Among the grass are tightly woven beds of daisy, clover, monkshood, bluebell, fleabane and lupine. At this altitude, the hillsides give way to sharp mountain peaks: vicious points of granite talus rise in cliffed leaps above expansive meadows, and the brutality of mother nature ensures humans in this kingdom are only visitors. The trail has long since disappeared, and my bicycle has found its way onto my shoulder as we stumble together across scree fields as my heart beats near threshold, strained by the effort and the lack of oxygen.
This is my territory. This is my life. Having grown up in the Rocky Mountains, I have had, for as long as I can remeber, a love affair with the alpine peaks that rise above the horizon. It came as a line from my parents, both of whom spent many years of their lives sleeping under the stars, and hooked me from a young age: I feel more at home on the ridge tops of remote mountain ranges than I ever have in houses, and I sleep better under a nylon tarp, wrapped in a down sleeping bag, than I ever will in a stuffy room with claustrophobia inducing walls, and perhaps most importantly of all, this is where I learn. My quest for knowledge provided by the stereotypical teachers of public schools ends when education extends beyond analytical thought processes. The value of knowledge, at a personal level, rests on my ability to live.

That is the first page of an essay that I recently wrote. I feel lucky, as I had the time to put thought, and more importantly feeling, into it. Here is the cross-road. One path, I am clearly on. One, I seek as much as possible, but it is not 'my' path, it is merely one that I have found myself on. Where is the turn off. The more I think about this, the less I want to live this life. Yes, I would likely be very content to graduate and work in a nice town, living in a nice house. But that is not the house I want.
Ivan Doing calls it the House of Sky. The place where the only walls are trees, and the only roof is the blanket of stars shining in the night. The place where the pedals turn, the feet pound. The heart Beats . Yes, that is truly the place to live.
Life draws on everyday, but in words, I am here for a reason. I might just need some help figuring out what that is. I feel low sometimes... helpless, alone. But the man says it better than I:
I never let it get me down
so when negativity surrounds
I know some day it'll all turn around

It CAN get much worse, and especially for me, it resonates that people have been through much more with less. All around, are reasons to fight the good fight, live the good life. A close friend, has been for some time, is hurting bad, bad enough to make you stop, bad enough to make you hurt. Its a deep blow in the pit of your stomach. But they are looking up, climbing back. Fighting. Another close friend, is not really hurting at all, but as a result of conditions that are uncomfortable at lowest, but mostly attitude, they are hurting too. Its a different reaction to witness, it is Succumbing. It is no worse to have to watch either, and I want to give each all the positivity I can. But which one will respond, which one will take the positive and propel forward.
Thats all I can think of to do right now. Spread love and passion and life and caring. As much as I have. Its all going out there. I hope that this is the hope that leads me in the right direction. I hope this compass sets me on the right path.

Take care world

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Sunday, August 23, 2009






Cramming a missed month of summer into a few hectic weeks... check.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Renovation



Transition maybe is a better word? some change is afoot. packing life into harriet the lesbian paddy wagon for an extended trip to bozeman. carry on friends, carry on.

Sunday, June 28, 2009







A damn good way to spend 24 hours

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Ol' ma nature



Right here in the back yard.

Tomfoolery



somebody is out there, making a spectacular array of nonsense in the woods.



Its like a maze and a fun-house combined, except more random, and more eerie.



I would say you certainly get the feeling that someone is messing with you, but it is mostly good natured.



And I have yet to find any sign of the Pooh, although I'm sure he is out there.

Sunday, June 14, 2009



An awesome ride today, solo adventures and really nice trails. Barely skirting the edge of some very serious looking clouds, and having a good time all around.





T-minus 15 days until departure for the NOLS course. things just get bigger and bigger the closer they get. Super exciting.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

A Step Forward



So, I have a bit of spare time on my hands here, and now seems like as good a time as any to give a bit of the story as to what I will be up to for the entire month of July.
A month or so ago, my parents offered me something of a chance of a life time. A NOLS course. I find it, I sign up for it, they pay, and I get to go. Hardly an offer to miss out on. After looking through several catalogs, online trip reports, photo albums, and talking to friends, I applied for two of the Waddington Range Mountaineering courses, and a Wind River Mountaineering course as my three top choices. Then I left for a river trip for a week, and returned to find my enrollment packet sitting on the counter. I opened it up only to find that I had been wait-listed on all three courses.
I called the NOLS office, just to try and figure out what the chances were of me actually getting on a course, any course really, and there were at least three people including myself on the wait-list for each course. And that all but one person in each course had paid their tuition in full. In short, things were looking down.
I scrambled to get my paperwork and deposit in, on the slim chance that some fellow named Eric at NOLS had given me, that if I showed motivation to get on the course, they might be able to work some things out.
I am not sure what happened yesterday morning from their prospective, but after faxing my papers in that morning, and speaking with three separate people at the office, all the while making it very clear that I was willing to commit to any of the Waddington courses, I got a call a few hours later, asking me if I was still interested in taking the July 1st through July 31st course.

Yes.

Wait, is this for real? I'm still in a bit of a daze, a mix of gracious surprise and a strange lack of information. The last 24 hours have been a mad blur of plane flights, hotel reservations, airport shuttles, and gear lists. Dates and times and places, its all very exciting and somewhat overwhelming. But at the same time, for all the things that I do know about what hotel I'll be staying the night of June 30th, in Mt. Vernon, Washington, there are a hundred times more things I have no idea about.
The course itself is very much a mystery, I have heard that the instructors don't even know what the route will be at this point. I have heard tales of near starvation and insane bushwhacking, massive glaciers, and huge mountains, but who really knows, at this point? I sure don't.

Here's a great snippet from Dan, who was actually preparing for a similar trip a little less than a year ago.

One thing I'm not necessarily prepared for though is the area of the trip itself, the Waddington Range in British Columbia. This is simply because not a ton of information on this place exists. I'm honestly not sure how were even getting there...I've heard rumors of day long van rides, float planes, trekking through ancient rainforests...who knows? What I do know is that tomorrow I fly to Seattle and make my way to NOLS Pacific Northwest HQ in Mount Vernon, so this will be my last blog entry here until sometime in mid-August. As such, I figured I'd give you a few snippets I've found about the Waddington Range.

and another from the american alpine institute

"Waddington! - Just the name quickens the heartbeat of any alpinist who has happened upon an article or even photo of this mysterious and remarkable peak. Mount Waddington? Does it really exist or is it just a tall tale? If it does exist, it's at the very least a place that very few people know much about, where very few people have been, and information about which is somewhat limited and hard to find. Climbers that have been to the range often speak of the place with an animation and excitement warranted by only a few great ranges in the world. In my mind Waddington and the remote parts of the Coast Range have always seemed like places that ordinary climbers can't go: too remote, too difficult, and too involved. Like the mountains in places that end in "ikstan" or "onia". Unattainable for the mere mortal."


Adventure is out there my friends, lets go find some.




Images courtesy of John Scurlock

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Big News

Just got a call from the NOLS office in Lander, WY this afternoon. I'm going to be on the Waddington Range Mountaineering trip for the entire month of July. Its supposedly the hardest course they offer, and I dont really know what to expect at this point. In fact, I dont know very much about it at all. almost nothing.
Its wild to think that I will be in the middle of one of the most intense mountain ranges in north america for an entire month. entirely out of contacted. pretty much self supported.
There are so many things going on right now, its very close to seeming surreal. And I will write more about it soon, when I have a bit more time to kill.
So long for now.

(photo courtesy of: http://bylandseaandsky.blogspot.com/)

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

A great day in the mountains. A great day in general. At times the skiing was frustratingly sloppy, but that doesn't really matter when you can ski a 1,700ft couloir on memorial day.

The pictures tell a good story: