Last Chair

Today is the last one in my house. It also means I am closing in on what might possibly be my last few days in Utah. As I write this, the snow is finally falling outside my window- reminding me that any other day I would be up enjoying almost a foot of new snow. But not today. Today I am packing.

I've been trying to avoid leaving the state I love for about a month and a half now, but things seem to be working against me in that direction. It's not that I'm scared of change, nor that I mind moving... it's just... it's ski season. And it's not even that. It's Utah.

I love my state. Everything I want is here- mostly. I miss some people back east, family included, but here I have rock & ice climbing, skiing, mountain biking (this winter we can do all in one day), whitewater kayaking and friendly faces who give you a grin in passing on the trail. People here understand, no explanation needed, why you're out getting dirty, dusty or covered in snow. People here understand why you throw yourself into the elements. People here get why your face only has half a tan and your hair is disheveled- no crazy looks attached.

For the first time ever, I'm scared of change. I'm scared of the east coast- where I will likely be moving this week (yeah, I'm still clinging to Utah as much as I can). I don't know what to expect except what I've already experienced... people the opposite of what I've had here in Utah. I shouldn't generalize, but my whole family is from the eastern seaboard, stretching from Quebec to Florida, and all points in between. While they may admire some of the things I do, they don't agree with the outdoor lifestyle. "Two weeks of paid vacation is plenty of time to enjoy the outdoors!"

Just rip my heart out, why don't you?

It wasn't my choice to leave. In fact, part of it was forced. The other part was fate, though I fought it tooth and nail. I look around at the boxes piled up and the newspaper covering framed photos of my life and wonder if this is all part of some greater purpose. All I know for sure is today is promising to be the best ski day so far this season and I'm writing a post- about moving. While I'm surrounded by hard edges and corners, others are enjoying a day of deep, soft, pillowy white clouds of snow. Irony.

It has come to the point of unbearable. My life's dream is deep in these mountains. My future was wrapped around the rugged crags and peaks. But what can you do when life throws a curveball (or five)?

In order to alleviate the pain, I've dedicated my thoughts to a path of looking at this as an extended The Most Epic Trip. I'm going east to learn new ways to be outdoors, new areas to explore, and perhaps discover an even tighter knit group of outdoor folks. I'm going east to finish the winter season to overcome my fear of skiing on ice (something I never get at Solitude). I'm going east to be with family and get things in order. And finally, I'm going east to build a business that will allow me to never be in this situation again.

This is my home. I moved here for a reason. I don't know why I am being taken away from Utah at this time, but nothing is going to keep me away.  *Insert Arnold Schwarzenegger here* My life is tied to these great mountains, this champagne powder, this place filled with friendly faces who understand. Without the outdoors, I cease to be me.

Fresh snow panorama at Solitude this week

So starts a new chapter of 451 & Gina Bégin- an exploration of the east. I skimmed this chapter a few months ago on the trip but now it's time to dive in. I really hope you all will join me- I'll need your support... maybe as I drive east, you can throw some Hi5s in passing.

Utah- go enjoy the snow. Maybe I'll see you out there for one last run.

Skiing the Deepest 2" of Powder

"I love it when Solitude under reports and over delivers on snow!" 

Photo: Brian Thurber

The caption above explains just how I feel about skiing yesterday. The double punch of being both a snow day and President's day, I headed up to Solitude just after lunch hoping to miss at least a portion of the crowd. Nearing the first entry, the sight of an unusually packed parking lot hit my eyes. Cars were spilling out onto the shoulder of the highway. Ugh. There goes my powder day... if you can call two inches of snow a "powder day." 

However, as a Solitude regular, I should know better than to ever be worried about finding snow. As if rewarding my efforts to ski, the resort always hands over a plentiful amount, and yesterday was no exception. Giving over the groomed runs to the holiday skiers and checking out the off-piste, there were suddenly no crowds and plenty of face shots. 

Here's a little insider tip: I'm not going to complain about an official report of two inches. When Soli says two inches, consider it their way of keeping the powder stashes fresh for those who know better...

More shots of the 2" pow day:

Photo: Brian Thurber

Rockin' the powder in these hot pink Salomon Pants
Photo: Brian Thurber

Photo: Brian Thurber

Photo: Brian Thurber

Yeah, I fell.
Photo: Brian Thurber (thanks)

Not bad for "2 inches," eh?

Avalanches & Life

From CBS News: Ajai Sehgal, with King County Search & Rescue, works a staging area near Stevens Pass, WA

Last night and this morning I received texts and messages from friends who were writing to inform me about the loss of friends they experienced from the avalanche near Stevens Pass, Washington yesterday. All were expert skiers and well-known to the ski community. The slide swept up twelve skiers, killing three. A fourth, professional skier Elyse Saugstad, was saved only from the use of an avalanche airbag.

The twelve skiers were all used to the terrain and were highly skilled and trained in avalanche danger. The area was right outside of a popular ski area and safety precautions were taken. Yet, in a flash, mother nature let go of a deep slab of snow that swept the victims over 1,500 feet down the mountain.

News like this reminds me how much we affect each other's lives. Among the victims were good friends of my friends. My pain is not as deep as those who knew the victims, but it is heartfelt for my friends, even bringing tears to my eyes when they told me how they were feeling. One friend in particular related how he was just talking to one of those lost in the avalanche two days ago. Then, he was gone.

This just got me thinking about how we're connected by relationships. And it's the relationships of true friends and family that matter most. But too often people look for those who will do the most for them or bring them the furthest in their life's dreams, leaving those who actually care by the sidelines until they are needed again. But it's all the people who have supported you and encouraged your dreams- who believed in you at all times- that matter. They are the ones who were there to smooth the rough spots of your life. They are the shoulders you cried on when things seemed lowest. They searched for answers when you thought you had none. They have been there all along. The others come and go, flickering flashes in life. Man, hold on to the ones who are the constant lights!

The point is, life is short, and that's reality. Live your life for the right priorities. Show others you care, show compassion for others' feelings.  If there is someone in your life who has stuck things out, been through thick and thin with you, forgives your shortcomings and always has your back, make sure you respect them. That is rare.  Don't take those who have proven their friendship and love for granted.

When they are gone... they are gone.

My heart goes out to all those who lost their true friends and family members in this tragic accident. I know those who lost their lives were cherished from all the amazing words I have been hearing from their friends. Please, everyone, be careful out there.

Go Wander

background photo by Steve on The Most Epic Trip

I came across this quote and had to put it into something more permanent than just a "favorites" file on my browser. I don't usually like quotes. They are too out there, so idealistic, an oversimplification of life. But when I came across this one, I thought hey- I actually did this, Mr. John Muir (and so did he). For once I could completely relate to a quote because I had lived it.

Not only did I live this, but I believe it's true. I mean, I don't know if I'm immortal yet, in earthly terms, but time did stand still while on this six month rock climbing journey across North America. Every day felt like a new life. Each 24 hour period brought entirely new things to learn. As soon as something became familiar, it changed and we began the process all over again.

Is my life longer because of it? Who knows. What I do know is brought life to my existence. It swept me up in purpose. It showed me the richness of experience. It will forever shape my life in some way because it changed my way of thinking. It changed what I need to be happy. There's so much amazing in the outside world, in the stories of people you meet, in the way the land changes as you travel, in the sky hitting the edge of the ocean- in everything you find as you go. Go do it. Go wander. I promise your life will be bigger.

Work For Your Dinner at Solitude Mountain Resort Yurt

Our guide explains the history and structure of the Mongolian yurt at Solitude Resort

The moon was hidden behind frosty mountains as we wound our way over the wooded snowshoe trail to Solitude Resort's yurt. Three or four of us carried lanterns to assist the group of diners- roughly 20 of us- to the structure located about a mile away from the base of the resort. Energy ran high as we picked our way through the forest, some stumbling over the snowshoes strapped on their feet and laughing as they learned a new way of walking.

Gearing up with snowshoes provided by the resort

Hidden away at Solitude, it is not surprising if you haven't heard of the yurt dining experience. An observant rider may catch a glimpse of the round, tent-like structure while riding the Sunrise chair, but other than that, this restuarant- though I hesitate to call it that as the dining area is intimately limited to 22- is strategically located to create a solitary mountain experience. 

Back on the trail, a warm glow intensified as we neared the yurt, and though the sub-freezing temperatures didn't stop our cheerful spirits, we were eager to remove our snowshoes and step inside. As we did, we were greeted by a wood stove humming with pots, pans, skillets and the quick prep work of Chef Abby Carlson as she prepared the ingredients of the first course. We seated ourselves and were quickly served refreshments of water (for me) and uncorked bottles of wine which we sipped while our guide proceeded to tell us the history and purpose of yurts in their native land of Mongolia.

Our first course, a pureed cauliflower soup, served perfectly to take the chill off our bones and put us at ease for the rest of the evening. It was paired with tart apples which cut through the creaminess the cauliflower and gave it a refreshing taste. Seared crabcakes with avocado were next, reminding me of a surf side eatery back home in Florida. I was skeptical, being in Utah, at how these would compare, but Chef Abby proved her prowess as I took one bite and fell in love. The crisp sear and the smooth avocados melded into a heavenly combination. Not a bite was left.

Our third course, the salad, was anything but standard: triple cream brie was served atop toasted bread alongside a roasted pear and baby greens salad with a freshly made vinaigrette. Never having tasted the richness of this type of brie, I was expecting a slight bitterness but was instantly delighted by the rich, buttery flavor. Not one to be overcome by salads, I had to hold myself back from stealing bites from my neighbor after my plate was clear.

The highlight of the meal served as our fourth course. Having already been impressed with the other dishes, our eyes opened wider still when we were presented with a plate filled with a rustic meal of sauteed mushrooms and spinach, mashed potatoes and tender beef topped with au jus. Do not be surprised at the simplicity of the ingredients- the skill and selection of quality ingredients provided flavors that were unmatched by similar fare elsewhere. The table quieted as mouths were filled with bite after delectable bite. 

We finished the meal, but not the evening, with an oh-so-slightly sweet custard topped with a spicy-sweet chutney. As we slowed our pace with leisurely bites of our final course, the banter between the diners- previously strangers to our party- picked up and laughter joyfully filled the yurt. Wine glasses continued to be refreshed throughout the evening, adding to the increasing boisterousness of the group. We chatted along for an hour after the meal, enjoying music, full bellies and each other's company, only pausing to give a generous applause to the chef as she took her leave into the wintry night. 

I have never experienced such tempting flavors prepared in such a primitive way. Chef Abby worked alone over a stove powered by wood, yet successfully brought together flavors which complemented the alpine environment with her own creative twist. Closing the evening and strapping our snowshoes back on, thoughts of the cold night were far from our minds as the silent mountain air was disrupted yet again with laughter and the crunching of snow under our steps. From the first step towards the yurt to the last snowshoe removed, dining at Solitude's Yurt was a true experience that no foodie or outdoor adventurer should miss.

A Little Valentine Tribute

St. Patty's Day 2011

One year ago today I woke up to this post from "my valentine": Five Ideas for Escaping Into the Mountains For Valentine's Day. Being unexpectedly mentioned in Steve's post was one of the sweetest gestures I had been shown- especially from a guy who isn't one to go into detail about about relationships. He planned the day perfectly- climbing was the main activity on the agenda- and then surprised me later with something I'll never forget: creamy peanut butter sandwiches.

I've talked about this before. He likes crunchy, I like creamy. It's not just that he prefers crunchy- it's that he pretty much thinks creamy is a waste of peanut butter. He would never buy it. He has been vocal in his distaste for it; in fact, I'm surprised it wasn't a deal breaker for him early on in our relationship. According to Steve, crunchy is not only tops, but it is the only kind of acceptable peanut butter.

While we usually agree on food, often choosing the exact same menu items when ordering, I am on the opposite end of the peanut butter spectrum. Creamy all the way for me. I love how smooth it is and the little sugar crystals that crunch slightly when you chew. I don't like massive pieces of things messing up my uniform texture (for this reason, I also don't like cherry pie). I would never buy a jar of crunchy peanut butter. 

So, on Vday 2011, when he handed me a couple of tin-foil packages and I bit into a smooth, chunk-free sandwich (sorry, couldn't think of a better way to put that), it dawned on me that he had gone out and purchased a jar of creamy peanut butter just for me. He didn't say a word; he was content to 

let me enjoy my sandwich without expecting any praise. But as soon as I took that first bite, I realized what he had done. I didn't know how to express how much I loved that seemingly small act of thoughtfulness- all I did was look up in surprise and exclaim, "You used creamy peanut butter!" To me, there was nothing small about it; it is the single most favorite thing anyone has ever done for me because it was simple and showed he was thinking about me.

After 15 months of dating him, I've learned that's how Steve is. It's not about big gestures. It's flying under the radar, doing things quietly without expecting anything in return. When we climb together, he believes in my abilities more than I do, pushing me by telling me I can do it and to try harder. During The Most Epic Trip, he worked hard to keep the car organized and the dishes clean after I cooked. He even took over the reigns of cooking when he knew I had a particularly hard day. When I came back from Florida after not seeing him for three weeks, he had gone out and bought groceries so the kitchen wouldn't be empty and made me my favorite dinner- his breaded chicken with pasta. On my birthday, he snuck out to the grocery store and purchased ingredients to create a birthday "cake" for me- which he managed to hide in the car somewhere until we got to our friends' house for dinner, later pulling it magically out of their fridge. It consisted of all my favorite ingredients that he had figured out during our climbing trip... graham crackers, dark chocolate, salted pecans... I didn't know he was paying such close attention. As he's told me, it sometimes feels like he knows me better than I know myself.

When I was sick last month, he went to the store, bought two versions of my favorite chicken noodle soup and a bottle of gingerale, and then came home to make it for me. In Florida, knowing my dad had landscape projects around the house that he was too busy for, Steve spent all day raking up dead palm fronds, clipping back bushes and cleaning the dock in his backyard. When the rain soaked my sleeping bag on a a camping trip, he gave me his and froze all night in my much-too-short (and wet) bag. He works through business ideas with me, trying to help me figure out new approaches to problems. And when we ski together, we're in perfect sync... it's the first time I've found someone that doesn't miss a beat with my ski style- swapping easily between leading and following without saying a thing- and seamlessly matching each other's random detours into the trees and and steeps. Even if I do happen to slow down (I'll admit, it happens on occasion ;), he always waits to make sure I make it through okay.

I love that he's humble about his abilities in the outdoors, always ready to learn from others and never egotistical about his strengths. I love that he can dance (really well) but doesn't take it seriously. His playful side makes me laugh- sporting pink unicorn hats is not beneath his level, and neither is spending two hours in a thrift store to secure our perfect St. Patty's Day ski outfits and claiming GNAR points at the resort. He's adventurous- always up for anything that involves being outdoors, trying new things, being new places, setting new personal goals. And when he smiles, it makes my entire day.

Carrying a snow baby

I feel pretty lucky he approached me over a year and a half ago as I was belaying a friend and asked if I'd like to climb together. I also feel lucky that my joking but highly sarcastic remarks to him during that first meeting didn't deter him, but instead made him like me that much more. I've never met anyone so matched with my interests, pushing what seems impossible into the possible, who thrives on being outdoors as much as I do, who dreams as much of being an entrepreneur, who doesn't mind the minimalist lifestyle and in fact shuns luxury just to be able to do the things we both love. There aren't many of us out there like that, and there are even less who can find someone who enjoys not just one but all of the sports they enjoy...snow, rock, ice, mountain biking, etc and at similar levels (though he often rocks me in climbing!). Because he did come up and ask me to climb that lucky day, we've gone some crazy places, met amazing people and have memories most people only dream about.  His persistance is what won me over in the end- not that it took much convincing ;) - and I laugh when I think back on our first date driving through the snowy roads of the Uintas for eight hours, braving giant moose, creepy unmanned campfires and three state border crossings, until he had to rush to the airport 30 minutes before his flight. It was after this whirlwind date that I got a text from him as he was waiting for takeoff: "I've been thinking about it and I'd like to take you out when I get back home." It's obvious, from this post, that I agreed; it's pretty telling from that first roadtrip that we'd continue on to pack so much adventure into 15 months.

He's 1,600 miles away right now, but he's still my best climbing partner, ski buddy, and travel companion. Even after six months in a car with him, I get excited thinking about the next big thing we get to work on. And although I will always be a creamy peanut butter girl, I'll even love sandwiches made with the crunchy version if it means I get to share them with him after long a day in the powder or on the wall. :)

San Rafael, Feb 2012

Dean Potter, Climber, Hits National Geographic in "The Man Who Can Fly"

from: deanspotter.com

Humans are always pushing limits. Maybe you don't feel that's true of yourself in particular, but someone, somewhere in this great wide world, is reaching higher, going faster, becoming greater than life's obstacles and roadblocks. Dean Potter is one of those humans. He's testing limits as a climber, free soloer, base jumper and yes, even slackliner, for the entire human race. What he accomplishes sets the standard for the next climber (sometimes himself) to overcome.

Meanwhile, I sit here cozy and content to gasp at these superhumans' calculated daredevilry (see 1:40). Well, maybe not content... while I watch I feel a tugging to push my own limits, not only in the sports I love but also in all areas of life. What rocky face can I climb that pushes the abilities I exhibited on The Most Epic Trip? What chutes can I destroy virgin powder in with my skis? How can I develop my talents in a way that makes me self-reliant and satisfied with my own progress in life? These are the questions that pull me toward a greater purpose as a human.

Those I watch on film are not simply crazy stuntmen who, after watching for two minutes, I shut off and forget. The images are burned in my mind, filed amongst all extraordinary feats I have witnessed, creating a collective that drives me to defy my personal best. These athletic extremists invoke desire for squeezing life out of every day. The passion they induce by exhibiting control over their fears becomes the catalyst that pushes me to want more, live higher, go faster, and be greater than my own perceived obstacles. I can overcome because they overcame so much greater.

Enjoy:

For Once in Your Life

Not sure how I stumbled across Butch Walker And The Black Widows song "Synthesizers" this morning, but the chorus motivated me. Plus, ol' Matthew McConaughey isn't a bad thing on a Thursday morning.



Chorus:

For once, once in your life
won’t you do what feels right
instead of waiting for the next big compromise
Stop running your mouth
Get out of the house
Get yourself downtown
and shake it all out tonight
...

There are really two parts of the song for me. The first that hit me is the chorus, as I mentioned. It's a challenge to get moving, to stop making excuses and to go for it. My faithful readers will know from past posts that this always strikes a chord with me. I can't tell you how many times people approach me with ideas, wondering how to get them started. When I offer tips, they shut them down, putting up blocks to what I know works since I used them for Outdoor Women's Alliance, my journalism and The Most Epic Trip. Excuse after excuse they offer as to why they can't make it happen, as if I have some special power they don't posses. If you can dream it, you CAN do it. You just gotta stop running your mouth and get out of the house. Put down the remote control and pick up some knowledge. Get going.

Listening to all the words of the song, the singer talks about not having the "cool" things and not needing them to have a good life anyway. I mean, he's not using any synthesizer and the song still sounds good, right? ;)

So often people are hung up on having the latest, the best, the biggest, or at the very least, the "staples" of what everyone else has: iPhones, 80's neon sunglasses, feathers for your hair, Mac computers, skinny jeans... or in the case of me and my outdoor friends: Subarus, the fattest skis, magnetraction boards, the newest ATC, Zeal Goggles with your GPS coordinates...

But two weeks ago, before the four foot snow storm, I was on my skinny skis from 2006, rocking out on man-made groomed runs and smiling just the same. And I've seen plenty of happy hipsters (there are ways to tell they are having a good time) with Androids instead of iPhones.

So what do you need to make YOU happy? What do you need to live out your dreams? You've got it all, you just need to realize it. It's what you've got going up in your head that makes all the difference- your outlook, your belief in self and your goals, your attitude towards being able to get what you set out for. What makes your heart pound? Believe in it. What makes you smile? Bring more of that into your life. Keep things positive, keep things focused. You'll get there. I promise.