After escaping the cry of telephones and cringe-worthy office politics, I skittered down a few city blocks to the escapist pleasantries of the neighborhood theme-park-urban-ski-lodge-recreational-megastore. Surrounded by mountains of gear, rain rooms, and $40 socks, I browsed the magazines, fondled the water filters, and brushed up against every waterproof fabric I could find. I strolled past the fake mountain wall covered with fake climbers and went outside to listen to the fake waterfall. And there she was.

And you thought yo-yos were just about powder?

She might have been just another pale and pimply Seattle face before, but now she was the bearer of 186 centimeters of telemark passion. With skis in hand, she looked like the kind of woman that could make you believe that Voile was a topless beach in France, that Karhu was a Swedish film star of the indoor variety, and that Kazama was Japanese for “climax.” She had become a Black Widow tattooed, do-Tua-me-whatever-you-want, Riva-me till I’m blue in the face, Terminator of love. She ate Pit Bulls for breakfast, and spit out Black Diamonds for lunch. By carting those free-heel boards around she was transformed from mere city slag to a goddess of the mountains, a shining alpine succubus, nymph of the glades come to whisk mere mortals away to a whitened fantasy land during their lunch break.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m a married man. I love my wife and nobody rocks my world the way she does. But this is the kind of thing that gets my waxing iron smoking for a couple weeks, if you know what I mean. It’s just that being around skiers for so long, immersed in cooler-than-thou skiness, and tunnel-vision ski-mindedness, I’d forgotten that the damn things were supposed to be sexy at all. And here I was, with the proof standing less than 20 feet away from me with a look on her face that probably wondered why I was salivating in public.

Thing is, it wasn’t my fault. Let’s face it. Telemark skis are about sex appeal. There’s no denying it. Sure some Norwegians and magazine models can flap around like it’s a normal thing to be disconnected behind the ball of the foot, but what about the legions of tele-flailers that are adorning the passes and emergency rooms of North America? Why else would thousands of erstwhile free-heelers be abusing themselves on breakable crust and death cookies? If they just wanted to get down the hill, they’d lock their damn heel down and be done with it. Telemark skiing is about something bigger than mere on-snow travel. It’s about flaunting with disaster on the thin line between pleasure and pain. It’s about looking bad and feeling good. It’s about something that you really can’t explain.

Yes, it’s about sex.

I thought about it some more, sipping down the last chunks of my herbal ecstasy latté, and realized that if skis made you sexier, maybe being a better skier would make you a better lover. Having spent a decade on the damn torture boards, it was a comforting thought that I might be enhancing my in-house performance every time I took to the hills. I’m definitely willing to pick up a few more turns on the old powder run, and I’m sure my wife wouldn’t mind either. And then of course, came the clincher. It hit me like a ton of free gear. Better sex can make you a better skier.

Dryland training is going to have a whole new meaning after this gets out.
 
 
… and how!
• Telemarkers love to repeat — And you thought yo-yos were just about powder? Do it again? Why not.
• Telemarking is not snowboarding — If you still think that faster, faster, faster, harder, harder, harder, is the way to nirvana aprés-ski, you probably should rent a few instructional videos… Taking the long way down does have its advantages.
• Telemarkers have their own props — Probe poles, skins, battery-operated devices….what else you got in that pack?
• Telemarkers understand proper hydration — I can’t speak for anybody else, but I keep my Camelbak in the bedroom, just in case.
• Telemarkers have their own knee pads — hey, it’s just a thought.
• Telemarkers get low and stay low — Trust me boys, being able to get low and stay low without losing control is the most direct path to a woman’s heart. Ditch the pickup lines. Prove yourself on the slope and you’ll never ski alone again.

© 1997

Reprinted with permission from Couloir Magazine Vol. X-3, Dec. 1997
 

Aaron and Laney enjoying fresh on Donner Peak's E side.

Reality suggests that it isn’t only early season snowpacks that are the problem. It is our individual failures to engage our brains or to back away from known danger. Let’s not confuse what sort of danger should be avoided because we all know danger is part of the thrill, but the danger we seek we have some control over, like the steepness of the pitch and our skill to negotiate it, preferably with some style to boot. Avalanches, on the other hand defy control. The only skill one can reasonable practice with them is avoidance, or at least some ‘semblence of restraint. Either that or full on engagement with explosives.

This was underscored for me last season. I got caught in one. Again. I am guilty as charged of ignoring a huge red flag. The problem was, it wasn’t announced in plain English but I must admit the warning was spoken.

When Aaron and I left the trailhead that morning it was cold and the snow was dry. Our first run down the North side of Donner Peak was the stuff of dreams. The fact that the sun was hidden behind clouds was a good thing. It was so good we decided to go for Tressel Peak. But on this second skin up, the clouds parted and the sun began to broil the snow. Our brains, however, were musing on clips from the run we just made, coloring our anticipation of the next one.

The thought of repeating this was all the filled out minds. Meanwhile...

“What are you whimpering for?” Aaron asked Laney.

It occurred to me she was trying to tell us something wasn’t right. Like, mmmmmmmaybe an avalanche? But I didn’t say it, maybe ’cause I thought it would jinx us. We had tasted the fruit of fresh snow and we wanted more. We knew it was changing fast, but we didn’t or wouldn’t let that register.

However, avy danger was definitely in the back of my mind as our tips hung in space off the small cornice while an untracked slope beckoned beneath.

The first pitch on the NNE side of Tressel Peak is nice and steep with widely spaced trees. If this let go, and it was indisputably steep enough to do so, it would not be pretty. This is one of those slopes that should be avoided if there is even a hint of an avalanche because of the consequences. It would let loose a slab that would gain speed as the pitched rolled even steeper before it launched off the 30 foot cliff defined by the train tressel 500 feet after gaining momentum, then down an 800 foot slope with cascading ledges, brush, and finally come to rest as it plowed into a dense forest in the runout at the bottom.

If caught here you would be ragdolled through all of that then be summarily bludgeoned or skewered to death in the trees. Death by asphyxia would be if you were lucky.

I pushed off anyway and made six fat GS powder turns and stopped. The snow did not feel right. It was heavy and every turn set off pinwheels that grew to four feet in diameter. I pawed down through the snow til I felt the base the recent snowfall rested on. It was smooth. Not glazed, but not well bonded either. It wouldn’t take much to make the whole 18 inches of fresh let go and it was getting heavier by the minute. I swear I could hear gravity’s slow relentless tug coaxing it to let go.

All this went through my mind but before I could say “wait!” Aaron pushed off and, thankfully only did three turns before stopping. The snow held.

I shouted up to Aaron, “Y’know….I think this is getting a bit heavy here. I think we should traverse.”

He agreed.

We traversed as quickly and gingerly as possible until we were skier’s left past the section that hung above the tressel and on to a less exposed, colder aspect. The pitch was just as steep, and the waiting limbs of the trees still awaited if anything should let go, but the bonding to the base layer was better here and there was no cliff. We made a few turns on a rib. The snow felt good, and the pinwheels were a lot smaller.

Two more quick pitches brought us to the last section, a tree-lined run formed by the mowing action of regular avalanche activity. More of those cascading ledges of granite formed the underlying structure making for some natural bump action with air possible if you wanted it.

The slope disappeared from view for about 100 feet, indicating a roll over, or perhaps a small cliff jump if the snow had melted back a bit from earlier in the season. Aaron chose left where I knew there would be a series of small cliffs for sure.

I didn’t want bumps, I just wanted steep, so I bore right. Within two turns the hidden line came in to view. The third turn was right at the point where the slope rolled over. One and a half turns later I realized that turn had cut the snow loose and knocked me off my feet as the snow pulled out from under me. As I fell I looked up and could see that the snow above the cut was now cascading down, pushing me down the slope.

Instinctively I pawed with my hands to dig in to the slope, to hold on to it and hope the snow would pass by and stop pushing me. It didn’t appear to be enough. I kept getting pushed down and the snow was building up against my chest so I fought harder and was finally able to hold and the snow passed and I stopped.

My conscience screamed in silence, “THAT WAS STUPID!!!”

There are any number of things I could have and should have done differently, but fortunately we were lucky. Aaron and I made a bad call at the top of Tressle but we got lucky, re-evaluated and made a correction. Even so we failed to stay on the alert or fully acknowledge the growing danger. Aaron triggered one on the same slope, but was able to ski out of it. It was as if we dealt with the avy lizard and then he was gone. Except that he wasn’t, he just waited for us up around the bend.

That’s what Norm Wilson meant when he said, “The avalanche doesn’t know you’re an expert.”

It is too easy to cast judgment on others who have been caught and killed. The reality is it could just as easily have been you or I. Be careful out there folks. When you go out with your boots on, you don’t get to say goodbye or set wrongs right.

© 2011

First, I would like to thank Jay (tainted meat) and Andrew (Andrew L) and Mike (MD2020) for donating NTN parts for this experiment. It saved me from destroying my own working bindings as the prototypes were made and remodified as problems developed and were dealt with along the way… Thanks guys!

NTN v1 modified for better touring.

Theory: The theory I have is that NTN has significant resistance in tour mode that can be “detensioned” and improve tour mode greatly.

Analysis: The throw lever extends the plastic tensioning parts to engage the power tubes. Modifying those parts to have less extension could, in theory, leave the boot captured by the claw, but not under tension.

In Practice: You place the modified tensioner in the new de-tensioned mode position. You put your skins on your skis  and climb in the modified free pivot mode. When you reach the top of your climb and remove your skins, you also reposition the mid part tensioner in the normal position and your binding is back to normal power tube tensioning for the ski down.

The modifications: I am not going to go through the evolution of discarded prototype modifications that led to the current version – just show the current prototype as it now stands.  Here we go…. (To see any image enlarged, click on it.)

Stock tensioning midpart on the L, modified on the R.

The tensioning mid part was the prime candidate for modification to relieve powertube tension. I thought that if I could modify it to have a quick release mechanism, I could drill another hole in the chrome throw lever and have a “detensioned” position for the cable tensioning parts to be in when the tour lever was lifted. The spring loaded “tits” on the tensioning midpart collapse like hammerhead adjusters to allow the midpart to be quickly switched to either position without the need of any tools.

Modified, spring-loaded tensioning midpart installed in the first prototype under the throw lever.

Once I had the quick release part completed, I needed to compute how far backward to drill the new holes on the chrome lever to unload the tension on the power tubes, but still have the claw in position to capture the boot. The power tube settings affect this distance, but there is some leeway because the claw has 2 tiny springs that hold the second heel of the boot laterally.

Side view of new connection for tensioning midpart.

One of the surprising things I found was how much resistance the center spring causes in tour mode. As the flex plate rotates when a skier strides, the cables are put under pressure to lengthen which engages the powertubes. De-tensioning the powertubes relieves about half that tension in free pivot mode, but as the cables shorten they must compress the center spring also which is felt as resistance in tour mode. I wanted to eliminate this resistance from the standard tour mode also.

Here's the spring I chose. It's 2 inches longer than the stock spring but much lighter and ¼ the rate of the stock spring.

If the center spring is removed completely, the binding doesn’t throw itself open to allow the boot to step into it, but is 100% free pivoting in tour mode  if the de-tensioning holes are drilled correctly. Rather than eliminate the spring completely, I decided to try a few different replacement springs to allow the claw to spring open (with much less force now) when the chrome lever is up, yet still have a nearly free pivot tour mode in the new de-tensioned position when the chrome lever is down. (And the tour lever is up)

Morticed NTN frame.

One of the slick things about NTN’s design is that the tensioning midpart has a little “shoe” on the bottom of it that engages the binding frame when the chrome lever is down so it takes the powertube cable tension off the arms of the tensioning midpart and rests it on the binding frame. It’s a  pretty cool design. A second slot has to be precisely morticed in the frame to receive this “shoe” in the new position of the midpart or the throw lever won’t depress completely.

Without filler, the toe stop may get crushed.

I was working with Version 1 bindings. They are nice because the center pivot is removeable and it allowed me to repair the v1 toe stops. I had 3 extra v1 stops that I filled with solid white oak and applied glass resin to the ends of to keep water out. The modified toe stops are not going to break.

So far, I have made 2 pair of these modified bindings and haven’t got them out on the snow yet. I am working on my house and my shop,.. and actual paying jobs (Hurray!), but I have a few local friends who also ski NTN who are the designated guinnea pigs.  I hope they will give the modified binding a try and provide  some feedback on the modification’s performance. One skier is Marcus, who has the TTS system, so his review will be critically awaited. Mike (MD2020) has also been extended the offer and is another local NTN skier I am friends with. Lastly is Randy, who is also a friend who skis NTN, who will be offered the chance to test the new tour mode too, if he promises not to huck them. Randy also has NTbulldogs, so his review will also be a valuable comparison of those two binding’s tour modes.

Really there’s only one more thing to do to this incarnation of NTN, and that’s to skeletonize it on the drill press to remove weight. I plan on taking one of these pairs and removing at least ¾ lb. for the pair, so the pair will weigh under 4 lbs. I think I will be able to do this easily. I am also thinking of replacing the “snow catcher” NTN heel piece with one of the more common, lightweight,  streamlined 2 wire heel pieces.

Here’s the completed modified NTN with all the modifications I’ve done to it as noted.

The "bulletproof NTN" addresses all the known weaknesses of NTN except range of motion.

The final modified binding has steel threaded inserts for the set screws, reinforced toe stops, the frame is cut in 2 pieces and relinked with a bicycle master link, the center spring is replaced, and the tour mode is modified to be free pivoting. I call it the “bulletproof NTN” since it addresses and corrects all the warrantied defects of NTN since it’s debut.

**** There are 2 significant things to mention:

1) These modifications will void your warranty with Rottefella

2) The changed center spring may effect the release function when returning the binding to normal position ski mode (thanks bambi for pointing that out).

FINALLY: On Snow Testing

What can I say — it worked flawlessly. It took me a total of 10 seconds per ski to switch each ski back from the modified tour mode to the normal ski mode. I didn’t climb a very steep hill, but the modified tour mode felt 100% free pivoting to me. It’s a vast improvement over the standard NTN tour mode. It’s not an easy modification to make to the binding, and I don’t see myself doing it for people who have already spent $300+ dollars on a binding when it would void their manufacturer’s warranty, but it does show that there’s more room for improvement in the NTN system, and hopefully the system will get lighter and more free pivoting straight from the factory while retaining all of it’s present features, and also skiing as well as it undeniably does.

© 2011

Terry Fisher in the running zone on the Tyndall Plateau, Sequoia National Park.

Note the angular pitch at the rear. This was to help compensate for too much pronation.

Prior to learning about Aetrex my footbed of choice was Superfeet. They made a couple pair of custom footbeds for me at an Outdoor Retailer tradeshow and the results felt fantastic. But when I started running again I couldn’t go more than 2-3 miles at a time, or more than once every 4-5 days. My knees had to heal a bit after each run and my medial ligament was tender.

Aetrex iStep program uses a pressure map of your footprint to recommend an optimal footbed.

They agreed, shaping a foot bed to match a weighted foot would be silly. Their iStep system used a pressure sensor to build a map of my foot’s pressure and then, based on what they had learned after 20 years of building custom orthotics, would recommend a shape that gave optimal support for that pressure profile. They had compiled twelve common corrective shapes for each of the three major categories of low, medium, and high arched feet.

One of these will probably fit. If it doesn't, custom orthotics may be the way to go.

Since they were handing out samples I figured, what’s to lose?

I walked around the rest of the show in them, and then went for a run as soon as I got home to clear the out toxins from the tradeshow in SLC. I went for another run two days later. Then I took five days off ‘cuz I knew my knees needed it even though, in retrospect they really didn’t. That was August.

As the snow began to fly in November it dawned on me that I’d been running regularly 3-4 times per week for the past two months. But it wasn’t until the next summer that I couldn’t deny the credit was due to Aetrex for their insoles that helped correct my stance.

There’s no doubt Aetrex footbeds won’t work for everybody. However, the orthotic basis for their footbeds is solid. The chance that one is optimized for you is pretty high. You may find that it merely reinforces the choice you have already made. Or it may help eliminate some pain. Check ‘em out. Unless you’re out in the boonies there’s probably an authorized dealer near you.

Link to Aetrex iStep Technology

© 2011

Heading up to Campion Peak in the Selkirk Range, BC, Canada.

However, in the intervening years free-pivots have been incorporated in to telemark bindings. The result for this advocate of meanderthal tracks has been a significant increase in my standard skinning angle from a mere 12° to 15°. It may not sound like much, but I assure you, 3° is a noticeable difference.

Though Andrew routinely sets trail in the 20° to 25° range, he is on record for acknowledging that the fastest rando racers tend to prefer a lower angle track because it is more efficient. If he hadn’t written that in the pages of the same publication as his prior claim – that the steep way is The Way – I couldn’t hold him accountable.

All that is to merely point out that in practice you may prefer one angle over another in most circumstances, but there is a time and a place for both. Herewith are the reasons why you might chose one or the other, depending on the circumstances.

The Way of the Tortoise by Craig Dostie

The Way of the Hare by Andrew McLean

© 2011

The Steep side of the classic, and eternal, debate on the best path to earn turns by.

In all fairness, steep skinning isn’t just all attitude. There are tricks, techniques and technology that can help you achieve your full potential as a despised trailbreaker from hell.

Keeping your focus is a key to a steeper line.

Technique
Skinning is an art form that requires practice and rewards those with good technique. One of the most important concepts is to try to keep your back straight and weight your heels.  This is easier said than done and requires heel lifters to be most efficient. Another important technique is to try and keep your skis in full contact with the snow, which can be assisted by loosening your boots and keeping your ankles flexible. In tricky snow conditions, try weighting your uphill, outside edge to help keep the track from collapsing while you are traversing. And last but not least, remember the person breaking the trail will often have better traction than people trying to follow it.

Scott Sady uses the basic tricks to keeper steeper - fat skis, wall-to-wall skins, and climbing pegs.

Benefits
Aside from just being more fun and challenging, there are lots of pragmatic reasons to skin as steeply as possible. Not only do you get there faster (yes, you do), but you are able to stick to ridgelines, which is safer, you are able to conserve more powder by not cutting huge zigzags across the slope and if people can’t follow your track, then you have lots more terrain all to yourself.

This is a reprint of an article first published in Couloir XIII-4, Winter 2001

© 2001

It's an age old debate. What's better, the low angle or steep skin track? Read on.

It is clear from his final point, that the real reason for setting a steep skin track is the male tendency to revel in the pride of achievement. However, the true test of manliness, especially in the mountains, is to eat your humble pie while it is easily digested and recognize that the low road is the best road.

Taking the low road has several advantages. It is unquestionably more efficient, therefore, usually faster; it is consistently safer; arguably more aesthetic and, for those still intent on a challenge, is more difficult to achieve with purity, i.e., sticking to a low angle line. Those who only recognize physical challenges or are incapable of cerebral ones will miss the latter point.

Not only is the low angle more efficient, it's almost even relaxing - relatively speaking.

Although skins can hold on angles exceeding 30°, it takes more energy to make them hold at steep angles. This incremental energy, multiplied by several thousand steps, saps your personal energy battery quicker than taking the low road, even though the low road may cover more distance. Not only that, but the likelihood of slipping increases as the angle of attack increases. If there is one sure fire way to burn energy, it is recovering from skins slipping repeatedly. Go steep and slip they will. Go low and you’ll have more energy to take more runs during the day, leaving a bigger smile on your face when you retire for the night.

Speed
Because it is more efficient, it is also easier to quicken the pace and cover more ground, vertical included, by skinning at a low angle. As proof, consider the Elk Mountain Grand Traverse, a race between Crested Butte and Aspen where skiers summit three passes, climbing 9000 vertical feet over 40 miles of distance. The winners have universally used nordic gear, which mandates a low angle climb.

It is possible to sprint short vertical pitches for a vertical advantage, but not on a long climb and not without a break after each sprint. As you gain altitude the rests inevitably become longer than the sprints, until upward momentum stalls. Exceptions to this rule exist for mutants like Andrew McLean, who consider a 100-mile trail run “fun” (Besides for a steep line on snow, crampons or Verts are the best tool, not skins). For the rest of us, the low angle approach allows us to hold a steady pace for hours on end, while we chew up the vertical and laugh at the hare brains taking break after break on the steep line.

Aesthetics
Though I’ll admit the view from a steep route may not be inferior to the low road route, it requires such concentration to hold a steep skinning line that you rarely have the opportunity to notice the view. On the low road, however, the very necessity of scrutinizing terrain features to take advantage of the lowest line possible mandates taking in the view. Not only that, but to hold a low angle line usually requires following the contours of a mountain over several aspects. This affords more views of the winter’s majesty surrounding you, as well as giving you a first hand sampling of the snow on several aspects. The latter information helps with avalanche avoidance as well as determining the best snow for the descent. Besides, since you don’t expend all your energy holding a steep line, you’ll have enough breath left over to carry on a conversation.

Safety
In the mountains speed is safety. The less time you take, the less you are exposed to objective hazards. Furthermore, the low road generally limits your exposure to danger.

The author practices what he preaches - no climbing pegs needed.

The art of the low road comes from setting a line that, with perfect execution, never loses elevation, never exceeds 15° of incline, never uses a sharp switchback, goes around terrain features like a topo map contour and leverages them for elevation gain while climbing at a relentless, easy pace. To the blind, such a track appears to be a hopeless exercise in futile meandering. To the experienced, however, such a line will elicit a sigh of satisfaction in the same way that fresh tracks taste sweeter when paid for with sweat.

This is a reprint of an article that first appeared in Couloir Vol. XIII-4, Winter 2001

© 2001

Is there reliable wind at the Delta?
Clue #1 - windmills dominate the horizon.

Instructor Bruce

Bruce came highly recommended by all my friends who had made the switch to kites, and as I would learn, with good reason. Bruce has been on the scene a long time. In the ‘90s, he patented a sail and boom rig that held the sail stiffer, more like a wing, and then using it managed to post a new American speed record on a windsurfer at 51.2 mph.

That all changed in 1998, though, when a friend from Hawaii insisted he learn how to kiteboard. Within a year his sails were collecting dust. He’s been teaching kiteboarding ever since, longer than anyone else in California.

Setting up the lessons with Bruce immediately became an exercise in humility. I was hoping to impress him with my experience as a sailor and skier to prove I was destined to be a quick study. Until I managed to get up on the board though, Bruce was relentless in his constant litany of warnings about the dangers of kiteboarding.

Liftoff!!! To air is human, but "watch out for that...!!!"

Step 1: Flying the Kite

Of the six or so hours I spent learning to kiteboard, about 4½ were with the trainer kite. Getting the kite up and keeping it up were easy. Keeping it up and controlling where it went, or where it hangs in the sky, definitely takes time. First you have to get a sense for the feel of the kite, how fast it responds and how hard you need to pull on either side of the bar.

“And don’t try to turn the kite like a wheel. You’ll need to undo years of reflex to get this,” Bruce added with jaded understatement. What he said was obvious enough. Undoing the reflex to turn the bar like a wheel easily took half my training time.

Pull to the left, the kite pitches to the left and starts to head, inevitably to the ground. Pull to the right and it arcs right, heading back up in the sky. Pull hard, it moves faster, too hard and it gyrates wildly. For about an hour I played with the bar, alternately yanking back and forth and turning it like a wheel so the kite swerved up, down, sideways and inevitably ended up dive bombing straight into the ground.

It took at least four hours before I could make the kite fly in a figure eight pattern smooth and steady, or fast, then make it hang in various positions within the wind window. Getting a bit bored I started experimenting with how long I could make the kite dive bomb and still pull it back up without crashing. I managed to keep it aloft maybe 90 percent of the time, but Bruce reminded me of the relevant criteria when he told me, “If you crash your kite, that means you’re swimming.” Riiiight.

On the third day of light winds, Bruce deemed it was time to try my hand with a real kite in the water. The goal was to keep the kite in the air and use it to drag me downwind in the water, without a board, for about a mile, and then safely bring the kite down and exit the water. Besides experiencing the feel of a larger kite, doing a water drag was an important skill in the event you lose your board and need to find it floating around, or simply to get back on land.

Step 2 – Getting Wet

We headed to Little Baja, Bruce’s preferred base of operations. It makes for easy access and there are lots of other kiters around. As with airplanes, the most likely place for an accident is the take off and landing. Having a ready crew on hand increases the safety factor.

Launching the real deal. Until you know what you're doing, you need a crew for take off.

Step 3: Stand up!

It took quite a bit of effort to keep the kite up in the neutral position, straight overhead, while bobbing in the water and trying to reel in and position the board to get my feet in the straps but eventually I pulled it off.

“Okay, now swing the kite into the power position and stand up,” Bruce commanded.

Easier said than done, but after about three or four tries, getting launched off the board each time and coming up spitting and coughing out delta water, the fifth time was the charm.

With my feet back in the straps, I waited for a tug on the kite to let me know there was a good puff of wind. Then I pulled the bar to the left, pitched the kite down, and as it dove down I pulled on the right, it swooped back up with power and lifted me up onto the board, skimming over the surface of the water.

Oh wow! Bruce was right. This was nothing like windsurfing.

A New Sensation

There are certainly common elements, but once you get past the basics of wind, water, waves and a board to ride on, the similarities end. Windsurfing is like dancing with a partner on a surfboard. Your partner offers a firm mast for a waist and extends a boom to your guiding hand as it leads you into the wind while standing on the board.

Kite powered cruising at Sherman Island, California

Learning to Kiteboard:

NORTHERN CALIFORNIA

Sheldon Kiteboarding
Rio Vista, CA
707-374-3053

Out Of The Office Kite School
San Francisco, CA

Kite Island
Rio Vista, CA
925-212-2915

Boardsports
San Francisco, San Mateo, Alameda
415-385-1224

CENTRAL COAST

Xtreme Big Air
San Luis Obispo
805-524-9200

SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA

Cali Kites
San Diego
619-223-5483

Captain Kirk
San Pedro, CA
310-833-3781

Manta Watersports
San Diego, CA
858-610-6000

For those not living in California, best bet is to log in to iWindsurf for information on where it’s blowing around the world, where to get gear, and where to get lessons.

Geoff Clarke teles beneath Consolation Couloir, near Pear Lake Hut, May 2009.

How much Food? Too much food!

Backs bent from not leaving the kitchen sink behind. Approx 90 minutes into the tour.

Its lighter on the inside than outside in the pack. Food break to lighten packs and energize for the climb to come.

Just Enough Clothing

Terry Fisher demonstrates how easy it is to ski with a big pack. Easy, of course, when you have corn base covered with 'Lilly's Lace.'

Clothing wise I managed to nail it. I used every bit of clothing, every day, and didn’t need any extra. The first night at the trailhead my fingers and toes took awhile to warm up, but they did, and the nights got milder with time. Glad I bought a new Alpini Vest, 800-fill down from Brooks-Range. It easily scrunched down to the size of a grapefruit, and fluffed up quickly. This was paired with an old Marmot DriClime windshirt, a base layer of merino wool from Dale, and a hooded Schoeller shell by Cloudveil. For my feet and legs it was just a pair of merino wool long johns and a pair of Mammut Champ ski pants with Point 6 wool socks and PrimaLoft® insulated booties by Big Agnes. They were kind of cold to walk around in on the snow so I pulled out the liners and walked around camp with my booties inside the shells of my tele boots. My sleeping bag was a 30° down bag from Moonstone, maybe 700-fill down. With booties, long johns and 3 layers up top it was enough and I slept toasty. The secret here wasn’t so much all the clothing, but my medium thick, down insulated Exped sleeping pad for insulation from the cold sink we slept on — ¾-length to save weight.

Last time I skied out of Wolverton to cross the Sierra Nevada I brought my secret blister banishing nylons. A couple pair of knee highs per person is all it takes. All the guys in the group laughed as I put them on next to skin under my socks. Their blisters were too ugly to allow me the satisfaction of laughing at them later on. That would’ve been cruel.

Undeterred I bought a 10-pack this time and passed ‘em out at the trail head. When our guide admitted he tried ‘em and they worked everyone took a pair. A few even asked for seconds a couple days later. Mike still got some pretty bad blisters, but his boots didn’t hold his feet in place very well, making blisters more or less inevitable. Even I developed a small one, but it didn’t require any treatment other than a fresh pair of slippery nylons and tightening my boots so there was no movement in the heel pocket.

Sun Protection

Peter Leh dressed in sun reducing white.

Red Flag Items

One red flag item that was going no matter what, was a 12 year-old Outdoor Research vacuum thermos. It paid off in spades. On the second day a few of us were running low on water and the snow wasn’t melting as fast as we were drinking. A quick 8 oz. of hot water from the thermos changed that in a hurry, for more than one person.

But that wasn’t the main reason the thermos was a required luxury. Waking up to hot coffee was the reason. I’d brew it up as the last task every evening before crawling into the sleeping bag to watch a few eyelid movies and let the body recover. Then it would follow me in to the bag to stay hot through the night. Come dawn, I wouldn’t have to start the stove and wait, I could be sipping hot joe within a minute of sitting up. Ahhhh!

Camp 5, after a long day across the Tyndall Plateau, down SuperBowl, across Shephard Creek and up to Mahogany Flats. Can you find the nylons and thermos?