"If you don't do it this year, you'll just be one year older when you do." - Warren Miller

Dad, you loved that quote.

Without any further ado, Dad, I know you believe me when I say this, climbing mountains will never be the same without you, I love you dearly. We never climbed a mountain together in the physical realm, but you were with me every time. Your spirit drove me to push my limits, to believe in my toughness, both mentally and physically, and to chase my dreams, even though they might not have been the dreams you had for me. Yet, nevertheless, some of my best and most significant pieces of gear were gifts that I received from you. I remember progressing into this sport, and both you and mom, were constantly frightened. From the hip I would shoot back, "Don't be scared, be prepared." You always reminded me of my own words, and you always joined me in this mantra by helping to prepare me to be safe in the mountains. You bought me an avalanche float pack the first year, radios the second year, binoculars for scoping beta the next year, and a list of other really thoughtful and functional gifts. You did this to make my life better, to make it safer, but most importantly, to show that you cared. This is how you lived, Dad. You lived with love, commitment, passion, and zeal. I will forever miss calling you the week before, apprising you on my upcoming objective. We would talk about the potential risks, well, I would, you would listen and ask questions, it was really awesome. I could tell that you were stoked, I could tell that you were proud of me for putting in the work to lead myself and others safely in the mountains. This build up would go on all week as I would send you Google Earth images of the line. Then I would add my personal layer and put a dotted line up the mountain and down the descent route for you to see where I would be going. I did these for two reasons, one because it looks cool and I wanted your admiration, but also because I wanted you to know where I may be on the mountain at anytime, so that if anything were to ever happen, well, you would have an idea of the beauty and be able to experience that day with me, as I had always intended to do with you. I would text or call you as I was halfway up the mountain because that is typically when you are high enough to get service. I would send you pictures, give you real time updates, and remind you and mom how much I love you, and how grateful I am to be your son. This joy would rise continuously as I reached the top, where I would FaceTime you from 14,000 feet on top of a volcano and we would sulk in the glory of another successful summit. However, the joy never peaked until I reached my car safely again, and then down the road when I would get into service, I would text or call immediately to assure you we accomplished the ultimate goal of returning safely and talking to our family again. Your spirit will forever live on inside of me. Dad, I love you, have no fear, you're with me everyday, and on every peak.

For the 2023/2024 season, my highlights include a couple goodies. Mount Meeker reigned supreme due to its prominence, but Citadel was up there since it was just so aesthetically pleasing. There were other great days too, such as the Moffat Tunnel zone, St. Mary's Glacier in a wind storm , a cosmic case of happenstance at Braindard Lakes, some phenomenal Loveland Pass/Mt. Sniktau dog skiing, and ending the season skiing naked down Little Agnes. Below are my trip reports from these adventures.

Moffat Tunnel, Crater Lake- March 23, 2024

This was a special day, and sort of a gift to myself and a rebirth for my birthday. It had been years since I skied with Hank and luckily for the two of us, our paths led us back to each other this season. Hank and his wife moved to Golden, I was in Ken Caryl, and it was like a dream come true to be sharing and making ski plans with Hank again last season.

The planning leading up to this was pretty funny for me. Funny in regards to how foreign it felt to be assembling my pack again, looking at beta, and planning a trip. It had been over two years since I skied anywhere that avalanches were really of much concern, and on this day, we had low-moderate avalanche conditions, which to me can be scarier than high avalanche conditions because it's easy for the human brain to remember the "low" but not "moderate" side of the forecast. When it's "high" we generally make safer decisions altogether, mainly by avoiding all slopes that may have avalanche danger.

Nonetheless, I liked the plan, which was to poke around, keep it mellow, and stick to the safest travel routes possible with respect to the "moderate" side of the forcast. Hank drove, and it was fun to catch up on the ride, and pleasantly odd to be sharing this experience together as Colorado residents. I met Hank in Los Angeles, via a friend from Steamboat, and we hit it off as two adventurers. I had just hiked the PCT, he had ridden his bike from Alaska to Baja, it was an immediate friendship. Our lives have taken us in different directions at times, but ultimately we have remained friends and he has been a large part of my ski-mountaineering endeavor, from skiing all over the Sierra, to a volcano trip in Oregon, and now to Colorado and beyond. To say the least, this was the birthday I was looking for.

It was fun to get all geared up outside of the car. At this point it felt like riding a bike again and the stoke was running high. After a few minutes of suiting up, we hit the skin track, tested the beacons, and continued on our tour. After one wrong turn due to excessive banter, we got on the right track and headed up towards Crater Lake.

We got to the lake and took a second to see where we thought it would be safe to ski. We determined that anything steep and ATL was out, so we continued up the mellowest gully, where we gathered again to determine how high up we would go. We agreed that we saw no signs of collapsing snow, so we decided we would go up a little higher on this mellow slope and see what we found at that point. Once here, this is always the tough part, or, if you like to play it safe, it can be easy, by always playing it safe. We got to what turned out to be our high point and turned around because to continue would put us on a steeper slope inside of the "moderate danger." We didn't hear or see any signs of falling snow, but we did see lots of wind scoured snow, and wind drifted snow, which was enough for me to decide it was a good spot to turn around.

The view of our gully from frozen Crater Lake. We ended up skinning about halfway up the slope at the upper left of the image and descended below to the gully.

Hank making a kick-turn up the skin track.

We took some awesome photos, reminisced, and then skied some awesome turns back down to the frozen lake. It was great to feel the pressure against my edges again and exactly what I needed to start planning for the next one. I'd have to say that for my 36th birthday, I got my ski-mojo back!

Our tracks painted on the snow in the right side of the photo.

Mount Meeker (13,916ft), Dragon's Egg Couloir , RMNP- April 14, 2024

This was one of those special trips where I felt I was exactly where I needed to be, exactly at the right time, and totally ready for this moment. It's a good feeling, it can get away from you though, especially on a nearly 14,000 foot peak, but luckily on this day, it was all good vibes, and it really had me thinking.

When I first moved to Colorado in 2010 after graduating college and spending a life in organized sports, I wasn't yet even dreaming about becoming a ski-mountaineer. I simply had no idea what this sport was. I knew people climbed mountains, but climb, and ski down? I had no idea. When I arrived in Steamboat, I had to reteach myself how to ski after taking ten years off, and I felt like a total goof; at that point, I just wanted to ski well, and once again, had no idea that ski-mountaineering was a thing. Luckily, I would meet some crucial friends along the way that would inspire me. The inspiration didn't always come in the same way, sometimes it was hard, feeling like an outcast, not being "one of them," not getting the invite, etc., but ultimately this motivated the hell out of me to prove how tough, intelligent, and athletic I am.

From rejection I was inspired and this led me to hike the PCT, AZT, get into ultra-running, and eventually through all of these, I found ski-mountaineering, and really have found an incredible passion for it. To me, the sport drives me to be a better student, a more patient person, and a better task oriented planner. I love the component of having to plan for something, where risk is involved, and it's up to you to determine what risk you want to play with. Sure, I love the act of skiing and looking at a beautiful landscape, but really, I love the planning, researching the beta, and the stoke leading up to the trip. I like being held accountable, I like having skin in the game, I want to be a leader, and for these reasons and many more, I fricken live ski-mountaineering.

Fast forward 14 years from putting on ski's and voila, I'm at the parking lot suiting up with Hank, getting ready to climb and ski a couloir on the second tallest peak in Rocky Mountain National Park. At this moment, I had not fully started to think about the things I typed above, but they were creeping in, and I knew I was in for a special day, and once again, with the great Hank Williams!

Mount Meeker as scene from the car on the drive in.

The tour in was quite long, with a stout shwack through the bushes to begin, albeit because we decided the shortcut shwack was more logical than back tracking on a trail to connect to our main trail. However, after the long ingress, we arrived at ATL and the snow was still firm, it was like one of those days in the Sierra where you just know you are timing the corn cycle perfectly. With that being said, temps were forecasted to sky-rocket so we continued on with some haste, taking in our surroundings, observing old avalanches, and looking for signs of rapid melting as we moved onto steeper, more sun exposed terrain within the couloir.

Dragon’s Tail is the left arm. Dragons Egg Rock is the large rock to the left just above where the wishbone merges.

As we skinned up the apron, all the good feels started to come back, and as I looked around, I started to really digest the fact that my work has paid off. We continued up the couloir, over the short frozen waterfall, and up to the top of the line where it fans out for the final couple hundred feet of climbing. Moderately steep and exposed for three hundred feet or so, this was exactly where I wanted to be.

Hank climbed over this waterfall that was frozen in the center of our line. I began to, but decided for me it would be safer to go around to climbers left and fortunately that was an option.

At the top of the line, we stayed short of the summit, enjoyed some silence, and then FaceTimed my Dad, a ritual that I will surely miss. After the call, we sat a bit longer, looking east towards Denver and the Front Range, south towards I-70 and Mount Blue Sky, west towards Steamboat and north towards Wyoming. I sat there thinking, wow, if you just keep chipping away at something you're passionate about, if you stay true to yourself and work hard, you will accomplish your goals. It may not happen overnight, but you will get there. I remember sitting here and feeling so proud of myself. I was going through an incredibly hard time with my Dad's cancer and my failing engagement, but yet, through all the hard times, I still pointed my compass towards my heart, I still was able to rely on skiing for positive energy, and I was able to do that because I put in the work to get to this point.

Hank on the final few steps to the top of the line.

Chief’s Head Peak behind Pagoda Mountain made for a stunning photo from the top of our line.

I embraced the feelings for a bit, then reminded myself that it's time to ski down this mountain, there is still room for error, so time to focus up, but enjoy yourself, and we did. The snow was perfect corn, with great turns available the whole way down and back to the car. Well, almost back to the car. We chose to be sadistic and retrace our swhack back down the hill to the car. Hungry, tired, and stoked, there is simply nothing better than arriving safely back at the car with your crew after a big day in the mountains, and to then return to 85 and sunny in Denver!

St. Mary's Glacier- April 28, 2024

This was an attempt at a lazy day ski that turned into an adventurous weather outing. While the skiing really is not all that worthy of reporting on, what is worth talking about for a brief write-up, is the wind.

At this point in the season Hank and I were full steam ahead looking for opportunities to ski together any chance that we got. Due to recent winds, the avalanche danger was high, so our plan was to have a long mellow skin to the top of James Peak, up and out via the St. Mary's glacier. Winds were still forecasted to be blowing, but low, and forecasted to taper off around mid morning. When we got to the lot, we definitely still had wind, we were hopeful, but wow, it was windy, snow was blowing, and much of our route was more or less along a high plateau.

We clicked in and charged up to St. Mary's Lake where some fearless campers were in their tents staying out of the wind. We continued by and up the glacier which is where all the fun really began. Along this route, there really isn't any avalanche danger, so it was fun to ascend in the windy conditions, it certainly made for some good photos and memories too. There was honestly good wind deposited snow along the glacier, and once at the top, there was plenty to travel towards James Peak, however, visibility was about ten feet. Getting off track was super easy, nearly impossible to stay on track without GPS, but GPS and phones die in the cold, so it was pretty much a snail's pace, and ultimately, we decided we were happy with our day, and turned around.

Hank took this one of me ascending the glacier.

Visibility low. Sort of looks like a view from an airplane if you allow your eyes to zoom out.

The skiing on the way down was fun and memorable. We had a stout wind at our back that was pushing us along the flats, and propelling us effortlessly. After some quick, steeper turns on the glacier, we were back to the car jamming to some good tunes, pleased with our decisions.

Brainard Lakes- May 5, 2024

Have you ever had one of those moments where you are torn between two options, where if you choose option "a," you may let down someone else, but even worse, if you choose option "b," you will let down yourself? I'm sure you have, I have many times, and though it can come off as stubborn or hard headed, even anti-social at times, all of which I am or can be, more than anything, I believe it to be intuition, and that's why it is so hard for me to bend or break in these situations. To do so would be surrendering my trust in my intuition.

All winter long I had been promising my two friends that I would ski with them "one of these weekends." It was honestly getting so bad and I was starting to feel like a fraud of a friend, one of those that always says "hey, lets hangout." Yet, never hangs out. So it was getting bad, and I love these guys, I honestly wanted to ski with them. Not badly enough to wake up at 5:00am to beat resort traffic on I-70 though. Call it what you want, but I want to like skiing for the rest of my life. I-70 resort traffic could make you feel the opposite and you haven't even gotten to Idaho Springs from Denver yet. You know what I mean. Resorts and resort traffic can suck your soul, or for me, make me so cranky thinking how "I could be on that peak, alone." Not very Zen, I know, but after years of not taking care of my skiing needs, I was feeling pretty needy. I managed this by telling them, "guys, in the spring, once the resorts close, we will shred, I promise!" Read on in the following posts to confirm I am a man of my word!

So once again on Friday night I was letting my friends know that I would not be joining them this weekend, "but definitely once the resorts closed and the snow stabilized, we would get out in the backcountry together." As Simon and Garfunkel once sang, "hello, darkness my old friend," I began packing my mountaineering gear and assembling my kit for a solo recon mission out at Brainard Lakes, about an hour and fifteen minutes northwest of my house. By this point in the season, I had been following the snowpack well, and felt like it was a great time to stick true to myself, use my ski-mo race set up, and just see what the day might bring. I'll toss one more quote out there, as Twain once said, "There is nothing that cannot happen today."

The ride up was stunning as some mystical shelf clouds had formed in the sky, signifying high wind in the upper atmosphere. I watched the sunrise over Denver as I passed through the plateau's west of Boulder. Then I climbed some steep grades and sharp curves, leaving the city behind, the cell service behind, and settling into what would be one serendipitous day.

I arrived at the lot and there were just a few cars. I was solo, so I wanted to eye up who else would be out there. Keeping safety in mind, I always like to know who will be out there, and I generally strike up a conversation with other skiers and then relay some sense of information in regards to where I am going, and I ask them as well. In this case, I was feeling pretty eager and I got ready super fast, then just charged up the trail. I had seen one person ahead of me and they had a lighter set-up, and were also solo, so I figured maybe I could catch them and strike up a chat. Or, was I caught from behind? I honestly can't remember, so I will offer both as options. Either way, memory definitely serves me right when saying that in less than a mile, I stopped to chat up this skier, he looked up, said a few words, and I said "are you Chris Watson?" "Zac, he said?" Holy shit. Intuition confirmed. I had met Chris at Run Rabbit Run 100 at the 2022 race where a mutual friend of ours that I know from the Pacific Crest Trail introduced us. At the time, I had just met my ex, and we were going to move to Denver, so I was all stoked on this connection. Yet, we didn't end up moving to Denver at that time, after a short stay in Tahoe, we moved back east, and over a year had passed with really no connection. I was bummed about this because it is honestly hard to find partners with solid fundamentals but also like to have a good time.

In this moment of reconnection, I knew that at my core that I could trust my intuition. I knew that skiing, and being in the mountains was where I needed to be. I had a sense of purpose. I was supposed to be here. I chose to be here. It was clear as day and it was something I had not felt in a while.

Chris and I bantered up the trail, using similar gear and at similar fitness levels, we were on the same pace, and fortunately he had been out this way many times, so I didn't need to bust open my map for the long tour into the basin. The forecast had called for much clearer and stable conditions, but as we skinned in, we had some decent wind and the clouds above were quite mixed. We kept an eye on this, and ultimately after setting eyes on a lesser couloir, we decided for this to be our target rather than the Audubon Couloir. Snow conditions just were not great, and I really wanted to get that one in corn conditions, plus, by this point, cumulus clouds were forming into cumulonimbus, so there were some signs of thunderstorms, albeit it did seem like they would stay east over the plains. Either way, I think both of us were just stoked to get out and link up.

We clicked out and booted up the couloir, just shy of 12,000ft. The views were stunning and we began to plan other trips in the region. As always, I FaceTime'ed my parents quickly to show them the view. Then we clicked back in and skied our way about six miles back to the car.

We chose the wider chute to the lookers left.

Chris looking south from the top of our line.

This day was just what I needed. Back safely, new ski-mo bud, and plenty of new energy.. I really felt like I was rolling in the Denver area, it was a nice thing to feel, and I could see myself living along the Front Range again down the road.

Loveland Pass Telemark skiing with Keaton- May 24, 2024

Loveland Pass is definitely a right of passage for Backcountry skiers living along Colorado's "Front Range." To get across the continental divide heading west, you either have to head through the Eisenhower Tunnel, or you take the scenic route and climb Loveland Pass where you crest the continental divide and then drop down into A-Basin and eventually Keystone Resort. The thing about Loveland Pass that stands out is the access to superb backcountry skiing, right out of your car. This is a rarity in Colorado and honestly really anywhere outside of California/Nevada, or Utah. Typically what keeps people out of the backcountry is the difficulty to get there. Here, once you park, you are there.

Keaton wanted to get out and ride an untouched slope, and we agreed Loveland would be the perfect place for him to achieve this experience for the first time. Without a split board, we would have to hitch-hike back up to our car staged at the top, so this was full-on classic Loveland Pass, Colorado, style. To make it even crustier, I brought the telemark skis, which I almost regretted after being accustomed to carrying my superlight ski-mo set up. Like I said, "almost regretted."

The climb up to the top of the run was quite short, but it still felt wild enough, with the wind blowing, the massive views, 360 degrees of them, it was a beautiful Colorado winter day. Keaton honestly smoked me to the top. I don't know what's up with that guy but he has super cardio strength or something.

Keaton shouldering the board to the top!

Dropping into the main bowl was great. We had delightful chalky pow up high, and the snow did one of its great magic tricks and turned to corn lower down without ever delivering the gloppy mid-condition. We carved our way through various smaller bowls and meadows, jibbing over smaller features, and then entered the trees where the real adventure began before making our way out to the road.

There really isn't anything else I do where I can connect with someone on such a true and vulnerable level. On this day, this connection was spoken without words and I saw the inherent stoke plastered across Keaton's face as he experienced his first backcountry run.

The Citadel- May 27, 2024

After linking up with Chris at Brainard Lakes, we kept in touch and continued to plan more ski adventures. The Citadel is a peak that we were both interested in, so we started to zoom in on that as a plan. I had watched numerous people ski it on Instagram, so we were getting recent beta, and it was really adding to the stoke.

The Citadel sits just to the north of Hagar mountain which is also an iconic Colorado Peak that cannot be missed on your way into the mountains while heading west on I-70. Both Hagar and the Citadel are along the same ridge as Loveland Ski Area, and can also be accessed from there, but, doing so to reach the Citadel is a much larger endeavor, one that few take on from the resort. Our plan was to ski a line called "Snoopy's Collar" which is a south facing, short-lived couloir, that fans out onto the south face of the Citadel and deposits you back at the base of Hagar Mountain. We also had open plans to ski Hagar, but only after the Citadel, pending the snow remained stable. Being spring, rapid warming was our main concern for the day.

Chris with Hagar in front of him and Citadel off to our right. We would end up gaining the windswept ridge to our right. This felt like a long Nevada/Great Basin approach.

We began our tour at Dry Gulch and had great coverage all the way to ATL where we were able to once again reassess our plan based on the day's conditions. Once in the open expanse at the base of the two peaks, we could see one group of three near the top of Hagar, and when we looked close enough, we could see a solo traveler working their way up the south face of the Citadel. We continued to skin for a little and then ultimately decided we would not climb underneath the skier on the Citadels south face and would instead gain the snow covered, but windswept south ridge, which brings you nearly to the base of Snoopy's Collar. Though we would not get to sample the snow on the ascent, we felt it was safer to not be below anyone while the snow was warming at the rate it was. Shortly after we began to gain the ridge via boot packing, we heard a loud scream declaring "avalanche." As our heads turned towards the call, we turned left and observed a decent wet slide on the east face of Hagar. Fortunately, skier one was out of the way, skier two was able to ski out, and skier three had not dropped. Either way, this was spooky, and we were happy to be on the ridge rather than in a similar gully one peak over, with someone above us. Why keep going at this point some might ask? The answer is, Hagar faces east and was highlighted in the avalanche forecast, the Citadel line is south, and the south side had more time to cook off the previous storms snow, and melt it into a more consolidated snowpack. With this information in mind, we proceeded with caution, keeping an eye on the skier that was already on our desired line for the day.

The Citadel with Snoopy’s Collar, the obvious center couloir. You can see the other skier halfway up the south face.

Climbing this ridge with Chris on this day was special. I enjoy time with all my ski partners, but this day reminded me of the fast-moving, bigger days that I would have with Conor in California or Nevada. The views were also astounding, highlighted by the final ridge walk to the base of Snoopy's Collar. Once again, this was a day where the years of hard work were showing up in my head. I was proud to be here on this ridge, but now it was time to safely ski down.

Chris on the final leg on the ridge walk! Awesome ski options on all aspects. You can see the ski tracks coming out of Snoopy’s Collar from skier 1.

We took some amazing photos, and looked down into the north facing couloir that dropped off the ridge before adjusting our sights onto our line. The previous skier had descended and it was clear from their tracks that we were in for some solid corn turns down the south face of the Citadel. We decided against Snoopy's Collar since it looked very manky inside the couloir and the previous skier did not seem to have much fun negotiating their turns due to runnels in the snow.

I was delighted to step out and be first in line for the descent but I must say, it's always a little nerve-inducing, it may be with a light a heart when it is said, but within the community, it's often said and accepted that one of the top ways to stay alive in avalanche terrain, is to not go first. With that in-mind, I was going first this time. I looked back at Chris, took a deep breath, and pointed them down hill. Initial thoughts were all positive, I continued to ski at a slower, safe pace, throughout the top of the line, then gradually gained confidence and speed as I worked my way towards the middle of the line where I stopped and waited for Chris. This would have been a fun one to take top to bottom, but I never like doing that. If you charge the whole face and gain that much distance on your partner, then a rescue is that much harder due to the now enormous amount of ground you would be trying to gain in a ten minute window. So, if you're skiing with me, I'm probably stopping a lot on the line.

With this said, Chris was really enjoying himself and the remainder of our line was low angle so he skied by and I watched him ski out the remainder of the line all the way down to the base of Hagar. At this point we were on less-steep, less-consequential snow, so the distance was not an issue. I decided I too would rip the rest of the line in one fell swoop. The turns were narrow and fast, with perfect, smooth corn snow.

Upon linking up, we discussed options for the remainder of the day. Hagar was still on the list, but we would be skiing avalanche debris, so we quickly ruled that out, but decided to gain the divide, then ski a line back down to the northern toe of Loveland Ski Area, climb that, and then ski down once more. This plan would provide us lots of turns, plenty of vertical, and travel on entirely safe conditions. It was a lock, and we got moving. This is one of my favorite parts of the day, when the main, more consequential objective is done, and you can sort of let your hair down under the sun and ramble around the mountains like they are one big playground. It's the stuff dreams are made of.

Me taking it all in along our second ascent.

Sniktau Gully with the dogs- June 1, 2024

When it comes to my place in life, I know it at least has something to do with the combination of animals and sport. Merging these two has been one of the greatest blessings of my life, a source of the purest joy. Toss in some lightweight race skis, a stable late spring snowpack, and some good weather, well, you're in for one hell of day.

Skiing with the dogs, or with Rez, is a constant reminder that skiing is supposed to be fun. I'm a believer that the numbers DO matter, but not ALWAYS. Getting out with the dogs brings me back to center, and center is fun, relaxed, connected. Plus, usually, when I am skiing with the dogs, I am not waking up too early. On this day, we began our tour at 2pm out of the Loveland bunny hill parking lot. I had never skied on this side of the pass, so it was all new, and I was pretty much winging it and just looking at my map. The dogs were having the time of their lives, the snow was perfect for four legged travelers, and their smiles were confirming we were in it for the fun, together.

We got out of the resort pretty quickly and then I started to fully grasp where I was. I was at the base of a beautiful chute off the shoulder of Mount Sniktau, one that slid huge and was fatal years back. I had climbed almost all of Loveland Pass, and I could now see cars driving along the pass. The dogs were looking good, Addie, a little older and slower was still smiling, confident, and assertive in her desire to proceed. Rez was on his own field trip as usual. Running up and down the slope, possibly finding a pine cone to toss to himself. The guy truly has "no worries."

We gained most of the chute together before I decided as a group it was time for us to turn around. There was some snow left above us, but it wasn't worth continuing on. Rez was stoked, I was stoked, and Addie had really just crushed it! We had all really found our groove together on this day.

I clicked my heels in and descended with the dogs following behind. Their smiles lit up the snow as the thin clouds flattened the surface light. I linked wide turns to slow my speed, eventually turning it down to making lots of turns in order to ski alongside Addie. Rez had already found his way to the bottom of the line, certain that he knew my plans, as we had done this sort of thing many times before. I skied with Addie then opened it up again and treated myself to some final turns over the perfect spring corn before stopping with Rez where the snow turned to a creek. We took in the sounds of the water, watched it flow, I stared in their faces, wondering where we would go next.

Sniktau with Keaton and Pooler- June 15, 2024

Winter 2024 really did have some crazy twists to it and one of them is that I ended up working for a cabinetry shop in Denver but our main job was in Aspen all winter so for most work weeks, I was in Aspen. Though I never got to ride the resort with Keaton and Mike, we were able to do a couple nighttime tours up Aspen, along with the telemark day on Loveland with Keaton, and then this really enjoyable day skiing the same terrain on Sniktau that I had skied weeks before with Rez and Addie.

Mike had been particularly keen on getting out into the backcountry after Keaton and I went on out on Loveland Pass, but things never really lined up throughout the winter. In a sense, Mike was relying on me as his point of entry to the backcountry, and I didn't want to take him out on a shit day. So I waited till June... It is funny, but it was a good choice. The weather was nice, the snow was great corn, and we had a really special late spring ski day. This was the first season out west for these guys, so it was a joy to be around their stoke. I remember when I first moved to Colorado, I was absolutely infatuated with the scale of the mountains, the intensity of the storms, the fierce cold, and the abundant wildlife. I had started to lose touch with this over the years due to the high volume of people in the mountains, and many warm days spent skiing under the Sierra sun. Luckily, I met these guys. They reinvigorated my love and respect for Colorado, and I'll never look at a massive herd of Elk ever again and not be grateful. Thanks, fellas. It was a pleasure to be a part of your initial backcountry experience. I'm looking forward to being a part of your progression. Cheers butty's.

Mica Basin- July 6, 2024

Mica Basin. Mica Basin sits just off the south east side of Little Agnes Mountain and is about forty miles north of Steamboat Springs, Colorado. Life had brought me back to the boat and I was feeling a little less than awesome, so I pulled out the sticks and committed to at least "seeing what's out there." My first backcountry skiing experiences were in this area, Farewell, Little Agnes, and various other stashes. It's a place that I am connected to but have also moved on from, though I think a little piece of me will always live in Steamboat Springs, CO.

I had decided that being in the mountains would put my mind in a better place. With record heat leading up to the July 4th weekend, I had zero takers when I sent out my, "Hey, I'm planning to go for..." text. Sometimes the only cure to loneliness is isolation on skis, with your dog. I'm typing this like I was so steadfast in my decision making, but the truth is, I toggled with the plan all night. Restless in bed, I thought about all the wrong things, grappled with the dark side of my brain, yet ultimately I had already done step one, which was pack all of my gear, and put it at the door. I have found that breaking everything down into small bites helps, and I'm not taking credit for that theory, but it was advice that I put in the "solutions jar."

I woke up to beautiful weather, but a little late so there was available room for the bailout excuses to roll in, especially with my road bike staring me in the eyes. However, I was feeling it, and so was Rez, so we headed north to Seedhouse Road. Once at the trailhead, it was kind of remarkable how many cars were there. It was also remarkable who was there, particularly the funniest older park ranger that interrogated me for ten minutes on my plan and almost had me convinced that I should just leave my skis because I was doomed for a bad day. Did some greater force plant this man here to challenge my spirit, to challenge my intuition? I think so, but I know that I was likely a bit short and irritated with my remarks, but more than anything, those mosquitoes were fierce and I'm not quite sure how he remained with his hands in his pockets for the duration of our conversation.

I got out of there as fast as I could and literally took off running with my skis on my back and Rez harnessed to my waist. We passed a few hikers but quickly split off from the masses as we headed up towards Mica Basin. The ecosystem was absolutely stunning, most notably, the clear flowing creeks that worked their way over the granite boulders, only to later be viewed at their origins where the water was still, clear, and quiet. I love this part of the journey, the part where my brain goes into deep connection with nature, imagining cause and effect, origin and destination, it's a part of the composition of my brain that I enjoy, and as much as I love to ski, even more so, I love to think deeply.

On this day, I had plenty of time for that. However, the thinking was largely confined to the sounds of nature, the beauty of the mountains, and my own personal shock that I had never explored this basin in the course of my decade or so stay in Steamboat Springs. This area is truly wild and the mountains have a much more dramatic aesthetic than others in the area.

Rez and I got to the basin and that is where we finally found snow. I had seen plenty of snow for a reasonable descent a ways back on the hike, so I was certain that we would get something. When we got to the basin, I was more than happy with my options considering it was July 6th in the Park Range. Rez and I agreed on a small strip of snow that was blown over the saddle from the north and deposited on the south. I figured, if that's the only line we get, that will do.

We worked our way out of the basin and up to the saddle. Along the way Rez was able to romp through the lake and enjoy the abundance of water and wildflowers. Once we gained the saddle, the snow continued up the saddle to the west, so we climbed further, and called it quits when the snow got patchy. Our first run was great but short, although reasonable for this time of year. We descended a couple hundred feet off the northwest side of the saddle then traced our tracks back to the top.

We then skied the main line down to the basin for a few hundred feet, but we both still had more in us, and I was ready for lunch, so we climbed once more, all the way back up, found a good lunch rock, and took it all in. I sat here eating a sandwich, watching the clouds whiz over, embracing the isolation and the beautiful weather. Then thought, this is the perfect time for a butt naked run! One a year and this one almost got away from me. What, do I not know how to have fun anymore? I thought about it for all of ten seconds, put my food away because I realized there was a good window for no clouds, looked down the slope to confirm my aloneness, then put my birthday suit on and my Babylonian suit in my pack, and turned the skis down the hill.

There really isn't anything quite like it. I skied some great turns and giggled my way down the slope to a stopping point. Here, I had to shamelessly transition once more to get my camera which was about a hundred feet above me. Like I said, shamelessly, just like I am writing about this.

This day turned out to be a real gem. The skiing was great, but the abundance of water is truly what made it special. Seeing the trout in the creek and Rez run through the shallow lake was amazing.

Colorado 2024

From the Sierra to New England- 2022/2023