Montana! Yellowstone!

If you've never gone to Yellowstone National Park in the winter, do it. ASAP. Before the winters in Yellowstone become non-winters.

After flight cancellations and delays — not all bad because I got a table massage and a friend sent me a list of the best dining beer in the Denver airport — I walked through into the Bozeman airport 25 hours after my scheduled arrival. The plan for the week: ski Big Sky, Bridger Bowl, and, uhm, Yellowstone, you know, that mecca of backcountry skiing. 

Ever since a friend's parents told me 8 years ago about their winter trip to Yellowstone, a ski tour around the thermal features has been on my radar just for the sheer novelty of it. And although Yellowstone was not the first national park that I'd been to (hello, Badlands!), it was the first that I had appreciated. I was 8 or 9 or 10, basically an age where volcanos were rad, and geysers were even more rad. But until this friend's parents told me about their trip, it didn't even occur to me that one could go to Yellowstone in the winter. Now a whole new world was opened to me.

Last week I hit Big Sky, Bridger Bowl (and skied-ish off the ridge! Emphasis on the "-ish"), and even the Bozeman music scene.

There is a ridge behind me. Really.

The highlight, though, was experiencing Yellowstone in the winter.

Um. Winter.

First, as with many parts of North America known for its winters, it's a bad snow year in Yellowstone.

The ice skating rink at the Mammoth Hot Springs hotel was closed for the season when we arrived. Technically, the season was ending a few days after our departure, but still. And then we searched for snow in the immediate area and hoped to do some ski touring. It was mostly combat touring with minimal elevation gain thanks to the low snow coverage. Given that all I really wanted to do was just ski around the hot springs, this wasn't a big deal to me, but before I flew out to Yellowstone, I checked out a few topos and realized that there was actually some terrain, which, if covered in snow, could be skied.

We ducked into the loop at the upper Mammoth Hot Springs in hopes that we could then head up. Meh. Nothing special, unless you count practicing putting on skins, maneuvering over brush and downed trees, taking off skins, and not tripping over downed trees on the way back. Which is good practice.

The next day brought us out towards the northeast section of the park, where we should have headed the day before. Winter and wildlife greeted us.

Sheep! Ram! Or whatever.

Off to see what's behind the trees, towards Druid Peak and Mt. Hornaday.

Turns!

I would love to ski Yellowstone in a solid snow year. The Cooke City area, which is outside the park's northeast entrance, is reputed to have great terrain. And even within the park, it looks amazing in that corner. As for myself, I need to get into better skinning shape, improve my technique, and get more experience with route finding.  I'll be back...

On Snow Juju

Last night, I received this text...

...which led me to pulling out the sacrificial goat from the ski bag.

Of course, this is good juju and means it'll snow, right?

Waiting for the Pow(der)...

I wish for your sakes that I was better at remembering to take photos while skiing. Or, for that matter, that the conditions warranted skiing more than a few hours a day. I (and I think the entire greater Tahoe area, if such nomenclature exists) have been waiting for a day like today practically all year...

...which translates into looking something like this:

The thaw from yesterday afternoon froze overnight and never really re-thawed today. Then it started snowing around 11am, and visibility deteriorated, at least at the base. I assume it wasn't better higher up. Rather than slide around blindly on dust on crust, I took a non-ski day in hopes that I'll find pockets of pow tomorrow morning.

But let me tell you about yesterday. It was another day of temps rising well above freezing after dipping way below freezing over night. I went out too early on Tuesday and found conditions uninspiring. So yesterday, I bided my time and headed out around noon.

What does one do when the snow conditions are generally uninspiring? 

One demos skis. 

My friend Jenn connected me with an old friend of hers who hooked me up with every single 2013 women's ski I wanted to try. This was awesome. Every ski that the women on TheSkiDiva have been buzzing about for the last year or so were on my feet yesterday afternoon. Well, not every, but pretty close to every. Actually, by "every," I really mean anything that I was willing to put on my feet in hardpack-ish conditions. 

I clicked in to the Volkl Kenja in 156 and chased kept within eyesight Jenn's pal on some groomers and even took air on the race course on my second run of the day. Holy moly. It was the most awesomely exhilarating warmup ever. I didn't know forgot that there was a dramatic pitch change there. How I landed balanced on my skis is beyond me. By far, the Kenja was the most fun, probably because the skis were the right length and stiffness for the uninspiring conditions. 

Aside: Who imported the east coast conditions here? Not me. I've always brought snow with me every time I've come to Tahoe. You – whoever you are – take back the east coast conditions.

I also took out the Blizzard Black Pearl in 152 (meh, but I think the ski was too short and/or soft for the conditions) and the Blizzard Samba in 159 (stable, but holy crap the longest ski I've been on since the shaped ski revolution, even if you discount the rocker/early rise tips).

Blizzard Samba

Now, if you'll indulge in the geeky gear talk, here's the thing that confuses me: Jenn's pal took one look at my adorable alpine touring skis that I lugged out here and told me they were too short. 

Who the heck are the shortest skis designed for if they are not designed for pipsqueaks like me? 

He said, "Tweens." Aren't there junior skis for them? I came up with this last question today, so it'll remain unanswered unless someone pops onto the blog with one.

As it was, the two skis I found most stable yesterday were longer than I would have put myself on. And, the one ski that I found squirrely was, in fact, the shortest. But I question whether I felt stable only because the ski length masked underlying balance issues that I may have and whether I would have felt the same about the skis had I skied more technical terrain. In fact, I took the über-long-but-stable-on-groomers Samba onto some awesomely corned up bumps in the early afternoon and found that they didn't help my perpetually mediocre mogul skiing cause. I kind of felt like a spastic cat with oiled up paws on linoleum. So there's that. Random musings of yesterday.

Tomorrow: Freshies, I'm coming after you. Don't let me down.

The Great Squaw Valley (Mis)Adventure of 2013

Yes. I made that flashy graphic. Well, not the skier image. That's why some random guy on a stock photo website is credited. But I put everything together, decided that 3D teal font was the way to go, and even made the cheesy purple fade to pink background. (And I wonder why my career in advertising stalled when I was 19...)

Anyway, the Great Squaw Fiasco MisAdventure of 2013 is on.

Back in the middle of summer, I decided that I needed a vacation. A winter vacation. And I idly (or maybe in a moment of frustration) said that I'd take the month of February off and go skiing. Usually when I idly say something, nothing happens. Except this time, I bought a ski pass to Squaw Valley, rented out a place or two in the valley for three weeks, and – most critically – bought a plane ticket. 

Yikes. What have I done??

Inhale.

Exhale.

I've got some other things to take care of while I'm out west, so I don't plan to be shredding the gnar by day and stumbling home from the Chammy by night on too regular a basis. Well, the latter part, at least. I do hope to get out on my skis nearly every day, but at the same time, I'm trying to maintain a, uh, life-life balance. Good times.

Stay tuned for at least a few posts on this upcoming (mis)adventure, and see you on the slopes!

The Next Level Ski Camp (aka, 72 hours in Tahoe)

So I survived the Next Level ski camp at Squaw Valley last weekend! Heh.

Going into camp, I was nervous about skiing with pro skiers Ingrid Backstrom and Jessica Sobolowski-Quinn. When I rolled into the meeting room early Saturday morning, I was armed with a day of skiing on ice pebbles in Pennsylvania, a day of sliding around trees at Northstar with a handful of ladies I know from TheSkiDiva.com, a wicked good pep talk from my friend Mary, and gratitude that camp would be starting off with 45 minutes of yoga.

At least I knew my downward facing dog from my uttanasana.

I walked into the meeting area, and within seconds, Jessica greeted me. Actually, she said something like, "This is Stephanie from Washington, DC." Wow. Sure, she had handled my registration form and check, so she knew where I was from, but still. I mean, it's great to be "known" right off the bat. Minutes later, I met Ingrid. I write "met" because I didn't really expect her to remember me from a meet and greet in DC over a year earlier (later, on the lift, Ingrid would also remember that the Soigneur – who has been reassigned to something between Ski Tech and Real Estate Agent – was with me at the meet and greet, and that his sister had a connection with Ingrid). Wow, again.

So yoga. Coincidentally, I had ski envy every time I was in downward facing dog because I could check out everyone's skis...and they all looked waaay fatter than mine. And then the part of the camp at which I wouldn't make a total fool of myself was over, and we hit the slopes. Yikes.

It was two days after a storm, and the conditions were holding up. We skied. It was steep. It was sometimes scary. Ingrid and Jess were super supportive. I had moments of fleeting greatness. We got videoed, and I cringed when watching it. And of course, one or two runs after the tape stopped rolling, everything clicked for me on a mogul run. Holy cow. I just skied bumps like I was born with skis on my feet. Bliss.

It was awesome to ski with Ingrid and Jess and to see up close how confidently one can actually move down lines. Ingrid's of similar size and build as me, so it was particularly motivating to see her ski. And, I still can't believe that I got to ski with her. But the best part of camp for me was that the Squaw Women of Winter instructors who skied with us for the weekend were both of Asian descent.

NEWS FLASH: I'm Asian American.

I don't think about my race on a daily basis (and it's probably healthy not to, for that matter), and I know that my friends think of me as "Stephanie" without any racial or ethnic modifier. But, I can't even begin to express how awesome it was for me that the two instructors with us for the weekend were Asian Pacific American women. These women ripped, and they looked like me!

Maybe on the west coast, female APA skiers who rip are a dime a dozen. But I've lived all but 6 months of my life on the east coast. I've skied with APA skiers, but I've never had a female APA ski instructor (granted, I've taken like six lessons in my life, but still). I've no doubt that The Next Level still would have been a blast with instructors other than Julie and Fran. However, having them there gave me unintentional (I think) and subtle assurance, inspiration, and motivation.

It's the eve of both Martin Luther King's birthday (observed) and the second Inauguration of the country's first African American President, but it took a ski camp 2800 miles away from Washington to remind me of the importance of having role models who look like us to inspire and motivate us to become our best selves.

See you on the slopes!

On the horizon...ski season!

In 3 days, I'll be skiing with this woman as part of the Next Level clinic at Squaw Valley!

Pro skier Ingrid Backstrom & I

I'm terrified. Not the least of which is due to having exactly ONE ski day so far this season, on man-made ice pebbles (sorry, mid-Atlantic ski area of choice, it's true...your conditions were mediocre). Gah. 

Also, as you can probably guess from the copious number of posts here since the half marathon in November, I haven't been running. Or when I have, it's been counterproductive. About a week ago, I decided that I'd at least invoke the "too little, too late" strategy of getting in shape for the ski clinic. 

Specifically, daily morning yoga at a studio that is at the top of a 5 story walkup. Heh.

And always taking the stairs everywhere else. 

The stairs thing would be overkill if I lived in any urban area other than DC, but thanks to some zoning laws (rumor is that buildings can't be taller than the Washington Monument or the Capitol, but I've never been able to verify that), the buildings here are 10 or 11 stories high at most.

Needless to say, between going up the stairs to yoga, going up the stairs to my apartment, and going up the stairs at work, there are days that I've walked up a dozen flights before 9am. It's awesome. Heh. See you on the slopes!

***

I haven't forgotten about my intentions for 2013, or race registrations, even though it looks like I have. Stay tuned for more on this...

Wordless Wednesday: The Wallowas Edition

Here are some more of my favorite pics from last week's adventure. There's a definite benefit of being the last one when climbing/hiking in someplace: there are lots of photos of you!

Snow shadows

Sliding downhill with skins on
and heels up is confusing. Just sayin'.

Looking like it's the heart of winter right now!

Don't let me down, snow bridge...

Thanks for all the turns, Winter 2011-2012!

Wallowas! (aka, Winter's Last Gasp)

I'm back on the grid! After weeks of blogging and talking about it, the trip to the Wallowas happened.

Bright and early last Tuesday morning, five of us set out for a 7+ hour drive to Joseph, Oregon, from Bend. Our ultimate destination: the Wallowa Mountains. After playing in Bend for three straight days, I was my hip flexors were grateful for a travel/rest day. 

Gear and skis for 5 actually fit into a Suburban!

I'd skied the backcountry before, and I've even hauled in my skis a few times for the spring Tuckerman Ravine ritual. But the Wallowas would be my first multi-day backcountry ski trip. Until this week, I'd only done day trips, and I'd slapped skins onto my skis a grand total of probably 4 times, if you count the first day of my avalanche class where we were focused on rescue, not climbing, techniques. I'm also counting the time that I skinned up a closed ski area in New Hampshire.

I'd been feeling for a few years that backcountry skiing was the next progression for me, so I was super excited when Charlotte called in January inviting me on the trip that she and Aaron were planning. It would be a relatively flat 4-mile ski into the huts, from which we could access some amazing terrain. My hope was that even coming from sea level, I'd be able to keep up with everyone (uhm, yeah), and with any additional luck, my feet would remain relatively blister-free (I was a little more successful at this one). 

We arrived in Joseph, Oregon, just after 5pm. Our plan was to spend the night here before heading onto the trail the next morning. Not so conveniently, nearly every store in town closed at 5pm in the winter. Our only options for killing time before dinner were checking out Our Little Store and window shopping. 

The results of our not-so-blind taste tests of Mexican Pepsi
and Mexican Coke purchased at Our Little Store: Mexican
Pepsi has more flavor than Mexican Coke. Who knew?

Carb loading at Embers Brewhouse, one of the few
open establishments in Joseph after 5pm

My room at Chandlers' Inn. Pretty inspiring!

The hut company sent an employee to our B&B for a briefing Wednesday morning, and a Forest Service ranger also joined us. Then we headed out to the Sno-Park.

If you've spent your entire life on the east coast like me, you probably have never heard of a Sno-Park. Thanks to Google, I've learned (in the last five minutes) that there are Sno-Parks in Oregon, Washington, California (and probably other states), and permits are required for parking there. Yay, Google.

DAY 1

After gearing up in the parking lot, we set out. Our goal for Day 1 was to make it into camp, and depending on how we felt afterward, maybe climb for some turns.

I've never been successful at shooting non-butt
photos of people gearing up...

View from the Sno-Park parking lot.

Every now and then, the sky brightened, and we were treated 
to great views. 

Practicing some spacing. The guys are way out in front with 
the sled. We won't talk about the sled, but let's just say there's a 
reason that two people needed to maneuver one sled. Charlotte 
and Christa are also in front of me, so I was just hanging out, 
taking pix.

Snowmobile high marking tracks on the treeless slope 
near center.

We arrived at camp too late for more skiing, but Christa and Andrew had brought in fresh food (hello, sled!) and whipped up an amazing backcountry meal: fresh salmon, rice, asparagus, and...brussels sprouts. My second brussels sprouts experience ever, and it happened in the backcountry. Not kidding. They weren't bad, either.

Veggies being prepped. I was a little apprehensive about the sprouts. 
I mean what kind of wacko people pack in Brussels sprouts??

The complete meal.

DAY 2

When we woke up the next day, it was snowing and there were several inches of fresh snow on the ground! Whee! After a bit of climbing and some snow pit digging and analysis (thanks, Aaron!), we skied.

Rise and shine!

Freshies at camp!
The kitchen hut is to the left, and sauna hut to the right.

Charlotte skins up.

I've approximately two photos of the climb up because I was working hard. The reward, though, was worth it.

Here's the thing: I know this is blasphemous, but my powder skiing is marginal, and with a pack throwing my balance off, it became atrocious. Nevertheless, I managed to get comfortable with it by the end of the run. So even though this isn't me skiing down, it's a picture of my tracks, which enter the photo on the left behind some trees, cross over another set of tracks and end, well, at the bottom of the frame, where I'm taking the photo. 

My tracks (and evidence of my outriggers).

DAY 3
And on the third day, it rained. All. Day. So I played Bananagrams. A few times with Charlotte, Aaron, and Andrew, and once solo. Yep, I know how to have fun on a rainy day in a ski hut. 

The completed Bananagrams board. And honey bear.

A part of me was glad for the forced rest day. I'm not used to skiing with a pack. Between skiing in on Day 1 and the skiing on Day 2, my right calf was weirdly sore in a spot I don't think I'd ever felt it sore. I sort of felt that I needed some rest so that I'd be able to ski out the next day. But the rain was also depressing. We all hoped that it hadn't deteriorated the snow too much – like melt the snow bridges over the water crossing – for the ski out, and that the weather would improve in general.

DAY 4

I don't know about anyone else in the group, but given that it was pouring rain when we went to bed on Thursday night and raining even harder on Friday night when we hit they hay, I wasn't entirely sure it would clear up for our ski out. I woke up a few times in the night and was pleasantly surprised not to hear any drips. I did, however, hear weird rippling sounds that sounded like rodents and freaked myself out. After I finally fell asleep for good, I woke up to this:

The sun rises behind Christa & Andrew's hut. 

We cleaned up camp following the strenuous checkout requirements and then worked our way out of the backcountry. On our way out, we actually crossed paths with the group coming in for the weekend. I was mildly jealous because the weather report looked pretty good for their stay.

Strenuous checkout duties (and camp rules).

We had lucked out with amazing weather for the ski out!

Amazing views, too. Btw, does this beacon make me look fat?

The route follows the contour of the slope.

It was sunny, warm, and a little very breezy. We could spot the parking lot from a distance, and it was a little sad to realize that each stride brought me closer to the end of my 2011-2012 ski season. I had eked out all that I could. It's now time to hang up the skis and focus on running.

I'm super grateful to have had this opportunity to head out into the backcountry with such fun and patient people. I can't wait to do it again!

Wallowas Ski Trip Prep: The Playing in Bend Edition

I've been cooling my heels in Bend, Oregon, for the past few days. Charlotte and her husband have been taking me out on snow every day I've been here, and Charlotte and I have chased the skiing with some yoga: Back Bend Yoga for some hatha flow and Juniper Yoga for yin. Right now, my legs – especially my hip flexors – are crying. Good thing tomorrow is a rest/travel day.

As for the last three days' play time, they looked a little like this:

Saturday: cross country day.

Mini clinic on skate skiing. On my rental classic skis.

On skinny skis for the third time in my life!

Sunday: A little climbing before avalanche
beacon practice and a short ski down.

Monday: Resort day at Mt. Bachelor. I've no earthly
clue why my helmet is askew.

We head off the grid early tomorrow. The fingers are crossed for smooth travels and stable snow!