The Big LePowSki

Sarah and I recently attended The Big LePowSki, a 1-day skills clinic at Brighton sponsored by Black Diamond, Backcountry.com, Brighton, Winter Wildlands Alliance, The North Face, Discrete Headwear, and Smith Optics. Proceeds from the event went toward the Billy Poole Memorial Foundation, which carries on Billy's generous spirit by introducing kids to skiing and outdoor programs. As someone who didn't grow up skiing, I care very deeply that Billy's legacy will resonate with a new generation of skiers. I won't pretend that I knew Billy well, but I had limited email contact with him. My immediate perception of Billy's character was one of sincerity and genuine appreciation for the world around him. These seem to be qualities that first come to mind for all his friends.

...ANYWAY, The Big LePowSki clinic was a huge success. Two-dozen top pro athletes converged on a field of 45 or so lucky amateurs, who paid a mere $55 apiece (included 2 clinics, lift ticket, lunch and after party) to mingle and ski with heros of skiing, telemarking and snowboarding. Names like Chris Davenport, Andrew McLean, Sage Cattabriga Alosa, Jen Berg (to name a few) were on hand to enthusiastically share their passion and experience with those of us who dream of being them for a day — those of us who are direct and indirect benefactors of Billy's legacy. Clinics included basic skills like "air-awareness" and "freeskiing 101" to more advanced clinics like "steeps" and "sliding rails". Sarah took "Women's Specific Air Awareness" with Kim Havell and "Women's Specific Skiing Steep Terrain" with Jen Berg. I opted to take "cliff-hucking" with Julian Carr and "360's" with Cody Barnhill. As if it weren't enough to watch these behemoths rock their own lines, I got to ride and joke with them, pick their brains, and have them cheer me on like some baseball fantasy camp. I'm proud to report I safely dropped a 20-foot cliff and pulled off a clean 360 with their help. Of course I was completely stoked all day long, but I feel like the athletes were as stoked as I was. And THAT's where Billy's spirit was felt the most. At the after-party, Julian and Cody talked ME up to their friends, which is just absurd.

My limited ski career (10 years) has been full of awakenings and personal milestones. Having moved from Boston to Utah 4 years ago, I've been fortunate to have many epic moments on skis. This one was one of the sickest yet. Thank you Billy, and thank you to all those who honor him in such an appropriate way.

Spalluto's (first) Trip to Utah

Our good friend Mike Spalluto was recently asked if he'd be willing to attend a conference in Salt Lake City...during ski season. After wiping the drool from his mouth he enthusiastically agreed and booked a few extra days to ski with us. He also brought Dave Walsh, a family friend who helped teach Mike to ski. They arrived late last Thursday with huge smiles on their faces and ski boots in their carry-ons. Unfortunately, they happened upon Utah during one of the longest winter high-pressure systems in recent memory. But they were up for warm bluebird skiing too.

Day 1: We hit The Canyons. Having performed some design work for lift tickets, their warm-up day was free. In awe of the shear magnitude before them, they let me take the reigns and I guided them straight to the high traverse on 9990. They looked out over the spine with wonder and anticipation, before dropping into the pines. We trekked all the way out to Dreamcatcher and back to Super Condor before ending the day at Silverado Bowl. We knew we were done when Mike literally wrapped himself around a tree and had to be manually ejected from his ski binding.

Day 2: Deer Valley. Taking the executive route, we introduced the boys to America's #1 resort by taking a tour of the 5-star property where Sarah works. We also met up with Matt Albrecht, his wife Leigh and her parents Laird and Freia. Skiing with the groups was not terribly chaotic as they were all great skiers. Again, we covered the entire resort and left exhausted. That night we didn't even bother going out after skiing. We simply rested up to do it again.

Day 3: Snowbasin in Ogden, Utah. North of Salt Lake are two formidable hidden gems. Powder Mountain and Snowbasin represent a very rare contingent of under-skied and under-publicized powder paradises. Our first venture to Snowbasin was a huge eye-opener. About an hour-drive from our house in Heber, this mountain was quiet, lavish, and absolutely epic in terms of terrain. With dramatic, rocky peaks and open bowl skiing everywhere, Snowbasin truly represents western skiing. But what's more is that even though it hadn't snowed in a week, we still found unracked lines and soft steeps begging to be carved. We ended the day with a triumphant run down the 2002 Olympic Men's Downhill course starting area. I can honestly say I had no idea how steep those race courses get, but having taken a separate gondola to the top of this pitch, listening to the operator read us our last rights and then dropping in over a blind lip, I'd say I have a new respect for the guys who shove out from the gates and straightline gnarly lines like that.

Day 4: Alta. I saved Alta for the last day because I knew Mike had been dreaming of skiing there for years. Mike and Dave even rented fat skis for that one day just to get the full experience. We met up with Patty and Gary at Goldminer's Daughter Lodge and before we knew it, we had a crew of people Dave's age willing to show us around. After a warm up through Ballroom we made runs in Fred's Trees, Westward Ho, and Eagle's Nest before hitting the backside and Chartreuse. Finally, in the afternoon Dave said simply "Dude, I'm done." Mike agreed and as we took a hero run down through Ballroom I knew I had done a pretty good job getting them to all the best spots.

Mike eventually went to his conference and will be leaving SLC on the redeye tonight. Hopefully this will become and annual tradition and hopefully next year they'll be able to plan their trip around fresh snow. But for now, they at least have a taste.

You can view more pictures here:
http://flickr.com/photos/7527772@N05/sets/72157613221714765/

SPLAT! Look Before You Leap

Yesterday was a bit of a powder day. Nothing huge but one of the better days so far this year. Everything was going great. Max and I were getting some good runs in Dreamcatcher (one of my favorite spots) at The Canyons. But sometimes you get so caught up chasing that floating feeling that you feel invincible. (Note: you’re not.)

Max and I scoped out a long, steep, straight shot of fresh pow between pine trees. We were below it at that point but we made a plan to come back to it. Sure enough on the next run I found myself staring down the chute. Without hesitation I charged down the middle. Turn after turn, I was rewarded by the splash of light Utah powder in my face. As I split through the pines, my vision obscured by snow and flat light I suddenly realized the ground beneath me had given way and I was in a brief, but un-planned free-fall. I had skied off a 10-12 foot ledge, landing square and abrubtly on a flat cat-track. For the un-initiated, that’s kinda like being hit by a truck. My body compressed into the ground, my face smacked against my knees and I heard a series of cracks. As it turns out, most of those were benign helmet clicks but I’m sure at least some of them were from my spine.

I stood up, unsure what had just happened. I turned around to check out my track and piece together the sequence of events. I then stuck my fingers in my mouth to make sure all my teeth were in tact. My head felt dizzy, but not nauseous as I ran through a check list before deciding I did not have a concussion. I knew I had at least torn some muscles in the back of my neck. My back, still sore from a miniature version of a similar event last week is surely due for a follow-up visit to Healing Hands Chiropractic in Park City. But overall, I got pretty lucky.

The bottom line is that a few inches of powder will make people do stupid things. This is certainly not the first time I’ve gotten caught up in the moment and allowed feet to do the thinking. But it’s a healthy reminder not to get too carried away. Good luck folks. Stay safe out there.

Opening Weekend

Despite a lack of natural snow and fickle temperatures making it hard to make snow, The Canyons and Deer Valley Resort were both able to open this weekend. On Friday, I took a few hours off from work to enjoy some early runs at The Canyons. I rode up the gondola, over the brown landscape and exited at Red Pine Lodge into a wonderland of man-made snow. I have to admit that I was surprised. I was impressed at the coverage, but also the quality of snow The Canyons was able to produce despite the less than ideal conditions.

Saturday and Sunday we were treated to VIP passes at Deer Valley's Annual Celebrity Skifest to benefit the US Ski Team and Bobby Kennedy's Water Keeper Alliance. We had a nice dinner friday night at the Silver Lake Lodge and tent access throughout the weekend at the finish line of the Celebrity race course. The food was excellent and yes, there was free beer thanks to the primary sponsors, CBS. The race will air on CBS, Sunday 12.21.08 at 5pm eastern before the Rose Bowl. If you watch closely you'll see us in the background of the finish-line interviews. I have a beard and red goggles. Sarah's in black sunglasses.

Celebrity sightings from the weekend include: Gwen Stefani, Gavin Rossdale, Picaboo Street, Joe Pantaliono, Larry David, Julia Louis Dreyfus, Matthew Modine, Tommy Moe, The Maher Brothers, and a bunch more. We opted not to take very many pictures of them because we didn't want to lose our free beer priveledges. But a good time was had by all.

Dear Winter: We're ready for ya...

The morning temperatures are in the teens now and we're ready to start getting our schralp on. The golf and mountain-biking seasons are dwindling, the sun sets early, and we've had a few dustings on top of the hills. So dear Winter, bring it on. Let's do this!

Boston Wedding in Utah

Our friend Evan from Boston was recently married in Cambridge. Unfortunately we were not able to make the wedding but luckily his new bride, Christina had a significant amount of family in Utah who were also not able to make the ceremony. So they decided to have a separate celebration just down the road from us in Woodland, UT. We we were honored to attend and very excited to meet Evan and Christina ahead of time for a nice, mellow hike in the Uinta mountains.

As the morning progressed, we couldn't help but notice that Christina's maiden name, Kimball is one commonly associated with major landmarks in the Park City area (Kimball Junction, Kimball Arts Center, Kimball Arts Festival, etc.). She confirmed her ancestors were in fact, THOSE Kimballs. Furthermore, her Great-great-great-great Grandfather was actually HEBER C. Kimball, (one of the original twelve apostles in the early Mormon church) for whom our humble home town of Heber City is named. And her Great Grand Father was Spencer Woolley Kimball, the Prophet (President) of the LDS Church from 1973-1985.

So....yeah. That was interesting. Christina is no longer a practicing mormon, but seems very well loved and supported by her expansive Utah-based clan. Their celebration was held in a "barn" of all places in the overwhelmingly beautiful Wolf Creek Ranch of Woodland, UT. The sorrounding expanse of rolling, un-fenced ranch land is lightly sprinkled with mountain mansions, each built on a 168-acre lots with several miles of buffer to the nearest adjacent lot. The structures blend nicely into the enormous plateau above the Heber and Kamas valleys, allowing the distant mountainscapes to remain a focal point. Our brief entry into this gated community was enlightening and enjoyable. And we thank Evan, Christina and their families for the invitation.

FetchDog comes to Utah

This Winter, FetchDog investors David Shaw and Glenn Close came to Utah for the Sundance Film Festival. Sarah and I were fortunate enough to meet them at the Egyptian Theatre and then to ski with them at Sundance Resort for Sarah's birthday. While riding the lift with Glenn, Sarah and I suggested that she should feature Sundance Ski Patroller Tracy Christensen on her Lively Licks Blog. Tracy is a great patroller but he's also the handler of Mick, one of Sundance's Avalanche Rescue Dogs. We explained the important role that Avy dogs play at Utah's ski resorts and how sophisticated their training is. We also encouraged her to participate in Mick's training by allowing herself to be buried in a fake avalanche to let Mick show off his talents. She was of course completely game, and went along with the idea.

Upon meeting Tracy and Mick, Glenn was immediately impressed and couldn't wait to feature them on FetchDog. She also had her step-son Ben shoot some video for the blog post which is now live at FetchDog. The video shows Glenn and David being buried into the snow at Sundance and waiting for Mick to rescue them in a very realistic simulation.

VIEW IT HERE »

You'll also be able to make a donation to Sundance Avalanche Rescue Dogs in Tracy's Charitable Shop. Just start your shopping with Tracy's recommendations and a percentage of sales (of those items or not) go to benefit Sundance's Avalanche Rescue Dogs and their vital training.
Check it out!

Pond-skimming, Utah Style

Saturday was one of those perfect spring days. As the afternoon festivities approached at the Canyons, the place just got sunnier and warmer. When Sarah and I showed up at the contestant area, we bumped into our buddy, Chris Petty who hooked us up with VIP passes for the winners circle. We hung out for a bit and caught up with Canyons locals, but once the event kicked off we were totally focussed on mayhem and nonsense. The crowd was thick and costumes were intense. Have a look.















We were also psyched to hook up with our friends, Chris, Richie, Max, Liz, Regina, Ahdena, Eddie, Brian, and Katie. But what really sucked is that after the "festivities" I was left with the most ridiculous sunburn. My forehead immediately blistered up and started weeping by Sunday night. But I deserve it for not remembering my sunblock! D'OH!

The Circus Comes to Town

This weekend was a blast from the past as a bunch of my old high school buddies converged on Salt Lake from across the country. The occasion was Chad Knowles' Bachelor Party. Two ski condos in Sandy played host to several Berwickians (Chad, Peter Clarke, Tom Beattie, Brett Richer, Chris Knowles and Pat Knowles) and various other really cool guys from Middlebury and Vail — about 14 guys in all, armed with alcohol, testosterone, and a raging passion for powder. They were here to ski hard and party harder. One theme of the weekend was their creative facial hair competition, the winner of which is anybody's guess. They also spent some quality time in a dirty hot tub which I dubbed "New England Man Chowder".

I met up with the crew Friday night as they were already well on their way to long night. I decided it might be best to crash on a spare futon downstairs, much to Tom Beattie's dismay as I snored him out of the room. The next day, we hit Snowbird for some great turns despite less than ideal snow conditions following 5 straight sunny days (yuck). The group of guys turned out to be pretty hard core and the pace was intense. That night, it was straight back to partying. I'll leave it at that. But I managed to sneak back to Patty and Gary's house for a much needed night of sleep.


Sunday morning — POW! The forecast was conservative, calling for perhaps up to 8 inches. Instead, we woke up to about 16 inches of fresh Utah powder. The group was ready by 6:30 am. From the first chair it was an epic day. There was hooting and hollering all over the mountain, and the large group quickly dispersed, invoking the "No friends on a powder day" rule. But Pete Clarke, one of my oldest friends in the world stuck with Sarah and me. I didn't grow up skiing, so it's a relatively new form of bonding for these two boys from Epping, NH. It was great catching up with Pete and charging fresh lines with him. We even egged each other on to huck a cliff or two.


Overall it was a fantastic weekend and I'm just glad no one was seriously hurt. Good times.

What it’s like to visit Utah

My brother Jay came out for a couple days this week. He flew to Phoenix from New Hampshire on Saturday night with his wife Jeannine, and daughter, Nichole to visit Jeannine's parents. He then took an early flight to SLC, arriving at 8:30. We were on the hill in about an hour. He brought his ski boots and used a pair of Volant Chubbs from Sarah's parents' collection. That morning we hit Deer Valley for a nice warm up. The weather got pretty dicey as the wind picked up and the hail started. But the snow conditions made it well worth it. We met up with my friends, Chris and Jody and then went out for an early dinner at Red Rock Brewery in Park City.

Day Two, we spent at Park City Mountain Resort, where my friend Bryan played tour guide for the morning, since he works there and I have not had the chance to learn my way around their 33,000 Skiable acres. Park City, had received about a foot overnight (at least) and there were fresh turns to be had in all directions. McConkey's bowl provided an epic first couple runs. And a late opening at Jupiter and Scott's bowls made the powder-day, and the resort tour complete.

That night we also made a trip to the Homestead in Midway (5 minutes from the house) to swim/dive at the famous "Crater". The Crater is an underground thermal pool inside a volcano-style cave with a hole at the top. You can swim or scuba dive in water that's 90° or more all year round. The water is about 55' deep and about 50' wide. Since Jay was already certified to dive he was allowed to rent scuba gear and explore the depths while Sarah and I watched with masks and snorkels from above.

Day 3, we hit Alta. Another 6 inches or so fell overnight while the wind swept the hill smooth. The sun came out early to a bluebird sky as we ate french toast and chicken fried steak at a trucker's diner in Heber. After a 45 minute drive into the valley and up Little Cottonwood Canyon, we made first chair on the popular Collins Quad. Our first run at Sunspot, off the Rustler traverse set the tone for another sweet day. We made an effort ride each of the four major chairs. We capped it off with a scenic overlook from the top of Supreme where we pointed out our house in Heber City over the Wasatch back. After a Mexican dinner at Cafe Rio, I dropped Jay back off at the airport to rejoin his family in Phoenix, exhausted and and satisfied.

One of Those (sick) Days

Wow. This week was crazy. we got 60+ inches since Monday (today is Friday, BTW) and finally I couldn't take it any more. I had to get some runs in this morning at The Canyons and it was the most amazing day you can imagine. Tough to say if it was the best ever, especially since Sarah wasn't there and I had to cut it short for work. But Damn. I'm just speechless. Face-shots all day long...almost every turn in fact. Max snapped a nice action shot of me in Silverado Bowl under the Golden Eagle Lift, a slow double on the front side running parallel to the Gondola. I may have had more runs if i skied a different lift but it's ok. That spot is empty and I can't imagine a better place to ski, in-bounds. Wow. Again.

Billy Poole, Freeskier Dies in Wasatch Mountains

Billy Poole: 1979 - 2008

Billy Poole, an extreme skier from Montana living in Salt Lake died today in Big Cottonwood Canyon. He was being filmed hucking Wolverine Cirque between Brighton and Solitude Resorts, a jump he had probably skied away from dozens of times. This particular time, his landing was not clear of rocks and he sustained fatal injuries and pronounced dead at the hospital.

I have recently had the pleasure of meeting Billy's best friend, roommate and business partner, Julian Carr. I've been corresponding with both Julian and Billy over the website their ski-inspired headwear brand, Discrete. My few dealings with Billy were extremely sincere and I'm inspired by his passion and dedication to skiing. I respect and admire his life's work and hope that his legacy is one of ambition and intoxicating love of life. Our condolences to his friends and family.

The bottom line is that guys like Billy serve as heroes to guys like me. Billy and I were the exact same age and yet I was in awe of him. In his 28 years, Billy lived more than most of us do in 100. He's done things and seen things from perspectives most humans will never know, and in doing so he achieved iconic status among his peers and the ski industry. He will be remembered as someone who squeezed every last drop out of life, and died doing the same. I believe there is honor in that. I'm reminded that life is a fragile and previous gift that must be savored every moment.

Storm Coming...

I've been hearing various murmurs about a potentially huge storm system moving in this weekend. They say it should start tonight and last into Monday with totals anywhere from 1-5 feet. That's exciting and I'm starting to believe it. So far: nothing. But I'm being patient. People tell me there is such a thing as TOO much snow. I'd like to see for myself. We're planning on taking tomorrow off to take the dogs out for a long hike and pick up our Sundance Locals tickets. But Sunday should be awesome. We'll keep ya posted.

Snow, Finally?

It's been over a month since we've had any significant snowfall in the Wasatch Range. But we did get a "dusting" last night. As you probably know by now, when there's a dusting in Heber, we expect to see up to a foot or more in various parts of the adjacent mountains. Early reports from The Canyons this morning show up to 8 inches. Alta has yet to check in, but our friend Tracy said it was "dumping" in the Salt Lake valley last night. On their respective commutes, she and Sarah both witnessed the vehicular mayhem typical of an early season storm, as people remind themselves how to drive in the snow...or into a ditch as it may be. Anyway, here's hoping this storm builds some momentum and sets us up nicely to receive another blast on Friday. The resorts have sheepishly started opening, offering mostly man-made snow, but so far this Fall has been stingy. The natives are restless at best. So if you experience any discourteous behavior from your Utah-based compatriots, please don't take it personally. Just pray for snow.

Dogs On Parade: "Howl-o-ween" takes over Main Street in Park City, UT

For our third year now, My wife Sarah and I dressed up our dogs for the October phenomenon known as Howl-o-ween in Park City, UT. Historic Main Street is the heart of this affluent ski town with its funky restaurants, bars and shopping. It's also the cultural epicenter for the über hip Sundance Film Festival. But for one-afternoon a year, the whole town goes to the dogs. Main Street is shut down to autos for a few hours while children are allowed to trick-or-treat at local businesses. But around 5pm the butt-sniffing mayhem begins. A town like this is full of dogs large and small. Their diverse owners have made this area their home for a variety lifestyle-oriented reasons and it makes for an eclectic arrangement of tail-wagging hilarity.

Our first year at the parade, we were a little reluctant to go overboard with costumes. Blü, our Weimaraner and Roxie our notoriously shy Siberian Husky were not used to dressing up and we expected some resistance. We found some little tutus at Target and tied them on. When we hit the scene and they saw all the other dogs in costume they got so excited that it's become one of our favorite oddities about this little town. This year we put a little more effort into it and found some hysterical dog-specific costumes. Roxie wore a Dorothy costume from the Wizard of Oz, while Blü was ecstatic in her Tin Man costume. They also exchanged "pleasantries" with the likes of Batman and Robin, Hanna Montana, Darth Vader, Wonder Woman, Yoda, Elvis, Buzz Lightyear, angels, devils, witches, princesses, pirates, you name it. And each dog seems to adopt a certain swagger in their costumes. Roxie, who normally hates crowds, was so brave in her costume — like she really was somebody else. Blü of course was her goofy self, but was noticeably proud of her new identity, and didn't seem all that eager to have it taken off.

Anyway, a good time was had by all. Maybe we'll see you and your trick-or-treater out there next year!

Inches in the Driveway - Feet in the Mountains

It started snowing around dinner time last night. It wasn't very cold out so it was a nice surprise. I was surprised to see it accumulate. When we woke up this morning there were actually a couple inches outside. The thing about Heber is that our elevation (about 6,000 feet) puts us below the snow-line for most storms. So when we get any kind of accumulation here, you know it's probably pounding at 9-11,000 feet in the mountains a few miles away. Needless to say, we're excited about ski season.

For a map of the Heber Valley, click here.

Winter's Back

After scraping the windshield my drive in to work this morning was a little brighter with some snow on the tops of the resort peaks ahead. We've had a few dustings so far, but it's nice to have a reminder like this in front of you. This photo, taken from westbound route 248 into park city shows some of the frontside peaks of Park City Mountain Resort.

The “Rem Dog” comes to Utah!

One tough thing about moving away from home is missing all the Red Sox games. Sure they're a big market team and they command a majority of national broadcasts. The ESPN games are OK, but if it's on Fox, FORGET IT. That's when you have to listen the insufferable Tim McCarver. Back east, when the Sox were on Fox, we'd turn the sound off and listen to the game on the radio. You can also keep up on-line or by watching SportsCenter etc. but it's not the same as coming home on a Tuesday night and camping out with your local commentators for a few hours. So for my birthday this year, my beautiful wife bought me the DirecTV MLB Extra Innings Package. Now I get all the games for every team. Do I care about all the teams? NO! But you can't just buy one team so oh well. Now it's like coming home to hang out with my old friends, Don Orsillo and Jerry Remy (the RemDog) on NESN.

Sometimes when the Sox are on the road, you'll get the local broadcast from that city, which can be interesting. Last night, they were in Baltimore and I got the MASN (Mid Atlantic Sports Network) broadcast. They feature capable play-by-play man Gary Thorne alongside Color Analyst and hall-of-fame pitcher Jim Palmer. I was excited at first, until I realized what a know-it-all Palmer is. I can take the constant stat spewing or the second-guessing, but then he started ripping on Manny. I almost lost my mind. But hey, even when it's not NESN, it's better than nothing. Unless it's on Fox.

It's Spring again...

We've had a few tastes of warm weather and we're done with snow for now. I got 42 days of skiing in this year and a few of them were epic. I may have had more if the season were a better one. But I'm still not complaining. My brother, Jay visited for a few days in early March and had some fantastic snow. A few weeks later, Sarah's college roommate Meredith visited with her husband Brian and they seemed to enjoy themselves. We recently took a trip to Melbourne, Florida for Mike Spalluto's and Lucy Boyd's wedding. That was a beautiful affair. We had gorgeous weather and a great hotel on the beach. You can see pictures of all this stuff in our latest gallery.

This past weekend, we visited Moab for the second time this spring. I headed down early with our neighbor Nicole, who used to work with me at ASC, along with her two-year-old daughter, Zoe. On Friday, Nicole dropped me off at the trailhead of the world-famous Slickrock Trail. Many trails in Moab consist of this unique beige sandstone surface nicknamed "Slickrock", but this trail made Moab famous in the Mountain Biking community. I truly remember reading about Moab, and Slickrock in Mountain Bike Magazine when I was in middle school in Maine. Since then, I've dreamed of riding it, but feared what it might do to my marriage if I should drag my wife on it. The Sandflats state park (home of the slickrock trail) offers a 2-mile practice loop that is designed to give you a taste of the full 11-mile trail. It certainly offers a significant sample, but it can't prepare you for the grind of the full-trail. I'll admit, it kicked my ass, but it was well worth it.

Sarah arrived on Friday night with along with our friends Kristin and Cory from Park City. Saturday included a trip to Karen's K9 Campground for the dogs while Sarah, Nicole and I biked a beautiful trail called "Baby Steps" which is adjacent to the Klondike Bluffs Trail, leading into Arches National Park. The trail was a tight and winding singletrack, and you could tell that it had not yet been ridden much. Saturday night was interesting to say the least. We had a few margaritas around the camp fire and Sarah made some of her killer tacos with our camp stove. So we went to bed happy and full in our luxurious 4-person tent. Of course we have smaller tents, but when camping with the dogs, we enjoy the extra width and height. Then the wind came. As the breeze kicked up, Sarah removed the rain fly from our tent to reduce the noise. Almost on queue, it started pouring rain. So we hopped out of the tent in our underwear to put the fly back on, which was difficult since the wind was howling. When we finally secured the outer layer, it got caught in the wind and started acting as a sail. Before we could hop back in the tent, it started flying away from us. In fact the only thing weighing it down at this point was Blü. Roxie had long since abandoned ship. So Blü took a little ride in the tent eastward, toward Kansas. But we made a lunging effort to grab the tent AND the dog, and dove back inside. But it was too late. The tent's structural integrity had been compromised, the contents soaked, and we were afraid it might only get worse. Our large tent was destined for destruction, while the other smaller tents in our camp site which laid lower to the ground were mostly undistrubed. So we decided to head for the security of the car. We broke down the tent in the pouring rain and howling wind (still in our underwear mind you) and stuffed it under the car. The dogs agreeably hopped in the back and we arranged ourselves in our soaking layers into the front of the car in our now soaked sleeping bags. As we wrestled into any kind of position resembling comfort, the rain and wind eased almost magically. Birds begain to chirp and the sun began to rise. Through the steam on our windows, we watched our campsite neighbors emerge from their tents, rested and serene. They stretched and yawned as they greeted the day, almost completely unaware of the carnage that occured in their calm slumber. Their tents were somewhat damp, but had been mostly blown dry. Ours was crumpled in a puddle of mud and irony under the car. We laid, sweaty, frustrated and unrested in our trusty Subaru.

Following the incident, as we all awoke, we realized our misfortune was mostly self-induced. And we began to laugh about it as we did our best to collect and shake-dry our belongings. It was, after all Easter morning. Nicole and her husband Petie had prepared an Easter egg hunt for their daughter Zoe, which is certainly a cheerful diversion in the wet desert sand. We followed that up with a big breakfast of eggs, sausage and bagels, then casual 3-4 mile hike from the campsite to a large set of sandstone buttes named Monitor and Merimack after civil war ships. The hike was enough to put it all in perspective. Overall, just another day in the desert.

Deer Valley, An Elegant Kick in the Ass

Sorry it's been so long since our last entry. These winter months have been busy. But as the sun starts setting later, we find ourselves getting motivated again. We're training for some triathlons this spring...Well Sarah's training. I'm starting to think about training. And we're still skiing our butts off. Which brings me to my story.

This weekend was one of the only weekends since November with no fresh snow in the forecast. So we decided we'd take advantage of Sarah's free passes to Deer Valley in Park City. Deer Valley is among the swankiest ski resorts in the country. We half expected to feel out of place, but we were able to adjust our mindset from fresh tracks and big drops to corduroy and sweeping GS turns.

For my first run I used my Salomon X-scream 9's, the very skis I had learned to ski upon in the seemingly distant past (through last year) at Sunday River in Maine. I figured they would handle the groomed conditions with ease. However, I have evidently become so accustomed to my newer, wider Salomon Pocket Rockets, that I immediately switched back. With 30 millimeters more girth underfoot, I strutted back into the lift line with Sarah and some friends from Park City.

A few runs into the morning, I was looking for a diversion from the groomed superhighways we had been skiing. I hopped in and out of the trees, scoped our rocks to huck and even happened into a few mogul fields. Most people who ski with me know that I'm not a traditional skier. I learned late in life and skiing for me is more about adrenaline than peaceful bliss. What's more is that without any formal ski training, I also don't possess some basic ski disciplines, such as skiing moguls. You might call them my "nemesis". Fundamentally, I understand some basics of skiing moguls, but have never been fond of the idea. Today, though, I lost sight of that...momentarily.

I stood on the edge of the groomed run, staring down a line between ice-filled snow goblins. A voice inside said, "Forget it. Take the Groomer. You have nothing to prove. This will end horribly." It's that same voice that tells you not to put your coffee on the edge of the table. You ignore the voice, thinking "Well it's not like I'd be stupid enough to knock it over!" Then in the same instant, as if predestined, you're swatting the hot coffee to the carpet and kicking yourself.

That said I decided to give it a go. As instructed (directly or by eavesdropping atop other mogul runs) I pictured myself as a stream of water, falling down the path of least resistance. It seemed simple enough. I made about 20 turns fairly convincingly (to myself at least). Then the pitch lessened and gave way to a point of rest before the next section of lumps. Feeling confident from the first pitch, I entered the next section without so much as slowing down. As I came over the lip of a cat-track I saw my line for the first time. I was no longer a babbling brook happily trickling down a serpentine path. Instead I was a bucket of murky rainwater tossed from a rooftop on an unsuspecting patsy; neither necessary, nor funny.

I absorbed the first few blows like a series of sucker-punches in a bar-fight I had not only initiated, but deserved to lose. With a feeble sense of self-preservation, I pointed my heels and leaned back trying to slow down, or at the very least, hoping to live. My evasive maneuvers proved too little too late, as one large disapproving ice-lump kicked me skyward. My internal soundtrack went from pounding speed-metal to a serene adagio movement. Then my calm was interrupted by the crunching noise of torso meeting mogul. I had landed on my lower spine at the crest of an unrelenting bump. Maybe I bounced a few times, but my immediate thought was that I might have broken my back. I struggled to breathe as well-meaning passersby rushed to my assistance and proceeded to ask me essay type questions. With the wind-knocked from my chest cavity, I simply gave a weak thumbs up and weezed "How did it look?"

I laid motionless for a minute or so, going through a checklist of self-diagnosis. First, I wiggled my toes to eliminate paralysis. I started to rock back and forth looking for the sharp pain of broken bones. Then I laid back to open my lungs and overcome the tendency to hyperventilate. Sarah and her friends caught up. I decided I didn't need Ski Patrol's assistance, especially considering that a ride in their sled, although it looks like fun, is not covered by insurance. (Thanks Patty Caret for finding that out for us.) I made my way up and clicked into the one ski that had released in the process. As I met up with the groomer and headed for the lift line, still weezing and suffering mostly from blow to my pride, i noticed a lack of edge response from my left ski (the one that stayed on). When I met up with the rest of our party waiting in line, they noticed the tail of my ski was sticking up in the air. So to literally add insult to injury, I had snapped my ski in half.

We decided to call it a day and headed right for the emergency clinic in Park City. (Readers may remember this clinic from the previous story "Utah Rocks...") X-rays on my spine came back negative for compression fracture. However the doctor was amazed at the almost perfect alignment of my discs. So thanks Dad for the lifetime of free chiropractic care. He wrote several pain prescriptions, which I was uncharacteristically quick to accept since my muscles had at this point seized up completely.

So as I sit here, on a bright Sunday morning, medicated through the roof while my wife enjoys a safe bluebird day with friends, I suppose I caution you readers to listen to that inner voice. Don't spill your coffee. Don't leave your plate on a chair. Don't pee into the wind. And don't ski stiff moguls, under the chairlift, with a bunch of friends if you SUCK at skiing moguls.