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Thigh Deep in Patagonia

A Ski Expedition to Southern Chile’s Grand Couloirs

By Petit Pinson

Photo: Petit Pinson

David Marchi skins a ridge on the way to another classic Chilean backcountry descent.

While winter holds here in the Sierra Nevada, southern Chile melts into summer. The snowy couloirs and valleys of the Cerro Castillo National Reserve are now rocky slopes and tree-lined trails.

Just a few months ago, I finished a blog entry from the one computer with Internet access that exists in the quaint and colorful village of Cerro Castillo, where we spent our last night in warm beds before heading out into the spectacular grandeur of the Patagonia backcountry.

What ensued over the next 12 days was an epic September ski adventure for four snow-starved Californians – David Marchi and Forrest Coots from Mount Shasta, Danny Sullivan from Lake Tahoe, and myself from Three Rivers – and a Chilean friend, Rodolfo Quiros.

“The mountains in the distance hold my life in a bowl filled with everything I could possibly want.” –Anon.

Sept. 11, 2007

We awake to the early morning call of the rooster and the silence that follows in such rural and remote places. While the family/owners/cooks of the Las Ardillas Lodge sleep in the next room, we make coffee and sip mate tea to jumpstart our journey. The Toyota truck loaded with gear and five sleepy souls, we head southwest on muddy flooded roads to reach our departure point. Sheep stare in slight curiosity as we begin our exploration of Cerro Castillo with heavy packs and awkward ski-boot gaits on dirt trails worn by summer hikers.

Each of us takes a comfortable pace as we hike beside a rocky river and into dense lenga nire and coigue trees, bare from winter, before reaching snow and opportunity to put on our skins. We are a motley crew of four skiers and one snowboarder anxious for climbing and fresh turns. It is one of those journeys where one wonders what is around each bend, over each ridge. Oh, the mysteries that lie beyond.

Four hours later we lunch under snowy skies overlooking potential base-camp spots, and already quotes from Borat and Talladega Nights have begun.

Two more hours of route finding and gaining altitude and we set up base camp by a clear mountain stream (our source of fresh drinking water for the next 10 days) in the valley where we look out to a 360 degree view of Patagonia beauty, when the weather allows.

Snowflakes get bigger and fall slowly as evening sets in. We create a dug-out snow kitchen in the floorless Mountain Hardwear Kiva tent and settle in with hot drinks, dehydrated mashed potatoes, soup, and chocolate before retiring to the warmth of tents for the night. Anticipation builds … What will tomorrow bring?

“The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, divinely aware.” –Henry Miller

Sept. 13, 2007

The amazing peaks that surround us here in Cerro Castillo are still hidden by snowy skies. Our second tent-bound day filled with backgammon, chocolate, hot drinks, laughter, naps, and a grand plan of attack for when the sun shines on endless couloirs. But we’ve determined that we didn’t bring nearly enough whiskey to “drink it blue.”

Quote of the Day:

“How’s it looking out there?” –David to Petit as she peeks out the tent to check the weather.

“I’m drinking whiskey … that’s how it’s looking.”

It’s a game of “hurry-up-and-wait” so common in the backcountry. Watching the skies between naps and reading, skis and skins ready to go at the first sign of clearing.

Yesterday we ventured out for a short tour up this foggy valley to keep the legs active. The few turns we got in whiteout conditions have us yearning for bigger, steeper and deeper.

The snow here at base camp is heavy and wet. We’ll seek higher ground and protected couloirs to check out the snowpack soon. Already we are pondering future trips into this valley of possibilities.

For now we’ll enjoy the stillness of the falling snow and the “gourmet” meals. Maybe we’ll dig out the “shitter” and fix the benches in our Kiva tent … another nap … chocolate … anticipation … the simple life!

I see stars in the Chilean sky. Tomorrow could be the day! Que sera, sera.

Sept. 14, 2007

What is that light coming into the tent? What is that warmth? … From in tents to intense in the crack of an eyelid. A crisp clear sunny morning greets us. Our first day of 360-degree views of this awe-inspiring slice of the southern hemisphere. We stumble out of tents with wide smiles ready to explore and discover what hidden gems await just up the valley under jagged spires of rock. We are inspired.

After two hours of skinning, we strap our skis to our backs and begin the waist-deep boot pack up our chosen couloir. David Marchi, 6’3” and tipping in at nearly 200 pounds with his pack, takes the lead sweating and swearing his way up the slope, leaving a staircase for Forrest and myself. Danny and Rodolfo have chosen to head to a bowl just out of camp. We’ve opted for the divide-and-explore game plan.

Quote of the Day:

“I’m a guide. I boot pack and then let the rad guys get the first descent.” –David

“If I were a woman, I’d have your children. You’re as strong as an ox!” –Forrest to David during the boot pack

Enjoying every step (in a masochistic sort of way), breath hanging in front of our faces as we ascend, taking in the vastness of Patagonia. A sliver of a new moon hangs in the deep blue sky atop a grand rock pillar as the wind swirls snow across serrated ridge tops, painted pink by afternoon sun.

At 5 pm we are ready for our first descent, a 50-plus degree couloir. Out in the valley giant condors soar in silence, adding to the already surreal scene. Forrest drops in first, carving in shaded powder and fading into the distance 2500 feet below. Hollers of joy echo up the rock walls. I drop in on skier’s right of Forrest’s solitary tracks. The pain of the boot pack is quickly forgotten, replaced by sublime Patagonia powder.

If this is what we can expect for the next week, bring on the boot-pack! The vastness of the terrain limits us to a one-couloir-a-day journey. As we ski back to camp in the beauty of the fading light, we scan the valley like kids in a toy store for tomorrow’s challenge.

We share stories of sweat and sunshine and powder and possibilities as we gorge on crackers and cheese and curry and couscous and tea and chocolate, five souls getting in the groove of the expedition with starry skies promising another day of sunshine and epic couloirs.

Sept. 15, 2007

We awake again to the rock pillars above camp glowing in the pink-orange hue of sunrise. The coffee press and Chilean yerba mate continue to prove their worth. Under our second day of blue sky we fumble over each other as we consume caffeine, cook oatmeal and gather our gear.

Sun pours into the valley as five skin tracks head out of base camp, northeast into a perfect bowl holding a menu of choice couloirs. This is why we are here. These are the moments we’ve been waiting for: the sanctity of the mountains, the intense sense of liberation as we earn our turns in the remote backcountry of Patagonia. Among the five of us, we choose three different couloirs to climb.

We are connected by radio and a passion for this wild place. David and I climb skier’s right of the Castillo, Forrest skiers left, and Rodolfo and Danny boot up a long, steep straight-shot across the way. Soon we are deep into our routes with only the sound of boots crunching snow, occasional rock fall, and our own heartbeats. The sweating and swearing ensue with thigh-deep boot packing to the top.

At the top, in silence, we see endless peaks and bowls and rock-lined chutes. Rodolfo and Danny, the size of ants on the distant ridge, bring a humbling perspective. Forrest is a crackling, breathless voice on the radio.

One at a time we drop into our second day of steep turns, all five of us convening in the valley to look back at the lines we’ve carved. Still flush with adrenaline, we cruise down the gentle rolling slope that leads to the winding stream toward camp.

With such high-effort ascents under sunny skies, the sweat of our labor is beginning to register in the confines of our tents. Regardless, we retire satiated to the comfort of down bags, hoping for more of the same tomorrow.

Sept. 16, 2007

Yesterday we spotted a classic long couloir on our approach up the valley that whetted our vertical-craving appetites, now soaring under a third day of brilliant sunshine. Who knows how long Mother Nature will be this gracious. We haven’t had the freeze-thaw we were hoping for, but the snowpack is solid and deep.

As we skin up to leave camp, mini iPod speakers provide our morning soundtrack: a Tenacious D wake-up call followed by the mellow rockin’ tunes of Ben Harper and Greg Brown. Rodolfo, Danny, and Forrest grumble about snoring and lack of sleep, David quotes Borat, again, and I hang clothes and sleeping bags from trees to air in the mountain sun.

Quote of the Day:

“Man, it would suck to be a bum.” –Forrest after a cold sleepless night of snoring and condensation

Soon we are thigh deep again: David, Forrest, and I in the long chute between vertical rock walls we spotted yesterday and Danny up the open bowl to the north. Rodolfo is nursing a swollen knee back at camp. We find our pace. The three-day old sliver of moon hangs above the summit of this perfect couloir. We decide to call this run “Luna” in that vain, uniquely human “we gotta name it because we’re the first ones here mentality.”

At 3 pm we look out once again over the vastness of peaks and valleys, imagining a helicopter and the possibilities, but grateful for the peace of our leg-powered ascent. Clouds are building in the distance. One at a time we feel the boards beneath our feet and give in to gravity, over 3,000 feet to the sun-soaked valley below.

La vida!

Sept. 17, 2007

The high pressure is holding. Cerro Palo towers over us to the west. Birds are beginning to sing songs of spring here in the southern hemisphere. There is something magical about living in wild places during seasonal transitions … the constant change and the reminder of impermanence, the connection one feels to the surroundings.

More coffee, mate, pancakes, Nutella, nuts, raisins … readying for another exploration on snow but moving like a herd of turtles. Our legs are weary from the last three days as we ponder today’s destination. Danny is already a spot in the distance as he heads up the “Wishbone” couloir we’ve been eyeing from camp since day one. Rodolfo is packing up to leave a couple days early with a swollen knee and an incessant cough. David, Forrest, and I sip coffee and tea and slowly skin up to the songs of Martin Sexton.

The sun is shining, wild parakeets fly overhead, snow melts alongside the stream, as we scan the horizon for today’s challenge.

David skins up the steep open bowl to the east in one long switchback. Forrest and I decide on a rock outcropping for views, sun-soaking and photographs before skinning to a couloir that is a straight 2,500-foot shot back to camp.

We enjoy a steep skin up to the precariously stacked rocks below Cerro Castillo for more views and the entrance to another classic couloir. This one we call “Poser” for the countless photos we take of each other at the top. The soft spring snow of this west-facing run brings us back to base camp for sunny-day day dreaming.

Danny and Rodolfo are headed back out to the village, and Danny will return tomorrow with a re-stock of chocolate and whiskey … priorities, priorities.

“Once in a while it really hits people that they don’t have to experience the world in the way they’ve been told to.” –Alan Keightley

Sept. 19, 2007

We sit in our melting kitchen with our dwindling food supply and pass the time with an Italian card game and re-reading Powder magazine for the 18th time. Yesterday the clouds and snow returned, filling the valley with fog.

Danny is back, and our chocolate and whiskey supply is replenished, just in time!

It feels good to rest the body after five days of burnin’ and turnin’. We enjoy down jackets, hot drinks, and a slow snowy day at base camp – our last full day here. We ration dry bread, dabs of mustard, salami slices and Gu. Life is sweet.

Forrest and Danny decide on a limited visibility ascent out of camp for some final turns. David and I read and write and watch snowflakes float to the ground.

We are here, yet our minds and palates have begun to wander back to the village below that offers the opportunity for showers and fresh food. The final full day of an expedition … bittersweet.

Mossy rocks are revealed in the melting snow by the stream. The Chilean breeze carries aloft the smell of spring, leaky fuel bottles and sweaty skiers. Forrest and Danny disappear into the whiteout, calling back on the radio in breathless excitement. Dark clouds swirl above.

The fading sunlight drowns behind wintry skies, while birdsong keeps hope and anticipation of spring alive. Forrest and Danny navigate blind descents as David skins up the other side of the stream to burn off some energy and get a few flat-light turns. I sit at camp enjoying the solitude.

“As you walk and eat and travel, be where you are, otherwise you will miss most of your life.” –Buddha

Sept. 20, 2007

Day 11: We will depart for the village below in a few hours. Spring sun fights to burn through fast-moving clouds. A break in the storm brightens our orange Kiva tent where we sit sharing oatmeal pancakes topped with raspberry Cliff Shots, a tasty pairing of what’s left.

Snow camping comes with the pleasure of creating temporary structures: stairways, benches, kitchens. We break down camp, cover our traces, and are left standing in a vacant space near a stream in a white world.

There is a long pause before we begin the five-hour descent to meet Rodolfo and the curious sheep in the valley below. The songs of birds are all that intrude amid the silence of the majestic peaks, as we look around sharing glances and grins of a successful expedition.

We will be back.

It’s amazing the amount of change that can occur in nature in 11 days. The snow has melted from much of the trail. The trees are now budding. Quickly we are on worn dirt trails with skis on packs and looking back at the towering spires that framed our camp. Again, bittersweet … We’re yearning for more time in this wildness but also the comforts of the village.

We reach Rodolfo and the truck just in time to capture a weary-legged, sweaty group photo. The Toyota is loaded and as we drive out, a windy downpour erupts. Mother Nature has been good to us.

Silence fills the car as five hungry happy contemplative snow-seekers bounce along the muddy road back to town through farms and wildlands. With spring arriving, we entertain thoughts of fly fishing and nights at Las Ardillas Lodge.

We are greeted in the village with smiles and amusement by the same ladies we met when we arrived, still stoking fires and preparing hot food in the quaint five-bedroom lodge. Oh, the joy of home-cooked chicken con papas fritas y cervezas.

On our one-hour drive north in rain and sleet to Coyhaique, where this journey began, I stare out the window, sleepy-eyed. I recall our first descents and imagine our tracks disappearing under fresh snow.

I am filled with a sense of fulfillment mixed with a sort of post-expedition emptiness that must be a form of withdrawal. We are inspired and humbled, and clean at last.

Some experiences just do not translate.

Hasta el proximo aventura… que vaya bien.

“Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each.” –Thoreau

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Quick-Hit Tele Tips

Photo: Martin Sundberg

Free-Heel Wisdom from Nor Cal’s Top Instructors

By Pete Gauvin

While some consider telemark skiing to be a new sport, it may be the oldest new sport around. In fact, its Norwegian roots predate the alpine turn by a half century. Of course, that was before ski lifts made hiking for your turns superfluous, or should I say optional.

Either way, telemarking’s growing popularity is something of a mystery to outsiders.

Why is it the fastest growing segment of the ski industry in recent years? Why do you see more and more tele skiers at resorts when they could choose the security and performance of locked-heel alpine gear or the surf-inspired simplicity of snowboarding?

Beyond the ability to go into the backcountry, beyond the physical challenge, beyond the uniqueness, it comes down to one word: feel. Tele has a feel to it that’s alluring and unmistakable, graceful and flowing, powerful and rhythmic, liberating and expressive.

This is true whether you’re making your first shaky tele turn or dancing down double-black diamonds with pistons firing in perfect sequential harmony. Indeed, one reason tele is so rewarding is the satisfaction that comes from learning its bare essentials and its endless nuances.

Whether it’s the progressive vibe or the world-famous Sierra corn, California is home to both an abundance of tele skiers and many of the top tele instructors in the sport. Here, we’ve collected a grab bag of favorite tips from seven of the best. All hold the top instructor credential for telemarking (Level III Nordic Downhill) from the Professional Ski Instructors of America, and often in other disciplines as well; several are PSIA examiners. While they all have their different styles, they share a love for the adventure, challenge and feel of telemarking.

If you’d like to glean more from their experience and enthusiasm, all of the instructors will be at the 12th annual Bear Valley Telemark Festival, Feb. 8-10, hosted by Mountain Adventure Seminars (www.mtadventure.com). Or you can look them up at their home mountain or teaching center.

Rosie Hackett

  • Wilderness Education Director, Lake Tahoe Community College
  • PSIA Level III Nordic Downhill instructor
  • Instructs for LTCC, Babes in the Backcountry, and private clients
  • Background: Growing up in Vermont, Rosie started with alpine ski racing before turning to competitive snowboarding. She took up tele skiing eight years ago.
  • Quote: “I’m a fervent believer in the power of wilderness education to change and enrich lives … And tele skiing is one of the fastest paths to enlightenment!”

TIP: A “Sassy” Stance

A sassy stance will not only make one look more stylish on the slopes, but it is the first priority in bettering one’s telemark skills. Too often it gets tossed in the backseat in favor of more technical jargon. Telemarking has come a long way since the days of looking like a praying mantis hopping down the slope. Remember those step turns and enormously long poles? Well, they’re history. Plastic boots and stout skis have put tele skiing into the fast lane, and I must say we look much more composed. So, how has our stance evolved to match these technological advances?

Let’s start from the snow up:

FEET: Feet should be nice and wide, about hip distance or slightly wider, separated fore and aft so that a pole placed horizontally between the legs would touch the back of the front knee and the knee cap of the back leg. Ankles and knees should be flexed so that the weight is centered on the whole of the front foot and ball of the back foot. Properly flexed, you shouldn’t be able to see your toes of your lead foot, or back foot. Weight should be distributed with a roughly 60/40 ratio, front or back, depending on which foot is dominant at the time.

HIPS: Hips are relaxed and poised to “push the bush.” In other words, tuck your pelvic bone underneath you and rotate it forward. This should immediately give you a sense of weighting the back ski. A common mistake among tele skiers is bending at the waist and sticking our butts out, which puts all the weight on our front ski, leaving the back ski flailing behind with nothing to do but get us in trouble. So stand upright, “push that bush” and tuck that butt underneath you.

SHOULDERS/HANDS: Shoulders should be relaxed with a bit of a rounded curve. Hands are out in front, a little wider and a little above the hips. Don’t let those poles drop too low. Good pole positioning is one of the keys to success when skiing steeps and bumps.

FACE: Your face should have a huge smile on it, because you are one stylish, sassy-looking tele skier!

Urmas Franosch

  • PSIA Level III Telemark, PSIA-West Nordic Chief Examiner
  • Former PSIA Nordic Demo Team Member
  • Background: Urmas has taught telemark skiing for more than 20 years. He also skis alpine and cross country. He is even rumored to have been seen on a snowboard at his home resort, Mammoth Mountain. You can watch video clips of his lessons on Telemarktips.com.

TIP: Focus on the Little Toe

Little Toe Timing

For rounder more precise turns on firm snow, try to feel pressure on the little toe side of the inside foot as early as possible in the turn. Start by feeling it near the end. Now see if you can feel it before the fall line!

Tippy Toe Traverse

Try to traverse on the little toe side of your uphill foot. Alternate skidding and carving. Your turn shape and control will improve as you master the little-toe side edge.

Skate to a Stronger Telemark

A strong dynamic telemark requires good balance on the little toe side edge of the back foot. Skate aggressively on flat terrain and check your tracks. See if you can skate onto the little toe side edge rather than a flat ski. Clue: Lead with your body, not your feet!

Walter Edberg

  • Instructor & Staff Trainer, Alpine Meadows
  • PSIA Certified Level III Alpine and Telemark
  • 10-year guest clinician, Bear Valley Telemark Festival
  • Innovator of the Tele “Big Foot” Clinics

TIP: Exaggerated

“Weightless”Lead Change

In skiing it is often beneficial to exaggerate a movement pattern in order to maximize sensory feel, muscle memory retention and cognitive understanding – creating one of those “light bulb” moments. Here is one such experiment.

A relatively evenly weighted foot-to-foot stance is the foundation of the modern tele turn. From this basic stance, we can play with different weight distributions: i.e. more weight to the rear foot in deep snow, more weight to the front foot in icy conditions. To broaden your versatility with various foot-to-foot loading positions try this:

Just before you start to make your lead change progressively shift your weight to the lead foot. Then lift your rear foot off the snow and make your lead change with the foot coming forward in the air. Try to keep this foot off the snow until you have come onto the ball of the weighted foot (your new rear foot).

Then, as lightly as you can, place the foot in the air down onto the snow as the new forward foot. Try not to fall onto the new front foot. You should be on the ball of your new rear foot with your heel up before the new front foot comes down. Adjust your weight so that the lead foot takes on more load until once again it is fully weighted, allowing you to repeat the process.

As you get comfortable with this move tone it down so that the feet stay on the snow, yet the weight shift still remains. This is a great way to increase your balance through the lead change, and is a very effective tool for skiing in cut-up or chowder snow.

Katie Zanto

  • PSIA Level III Telemark
  • Background: A Kings Beach resident, Katie has been teaching skiing and snowboarding for over 12 years. She is a professor in the Humanities Department at Sierra Nevada College and the director of a UC Berkeley outreach summer school program for high school students. She loves the Tahoe backcountry!

TIP: Improving in the Ungroomed

Backcountry snow, powder conditions, and off-piste skiing at resorts present newer telemarkers with major challenges. As a beginner in this terrain, try to be deliberate about the slope you ski. Often skiers’ first attempts occur on double fall-line side hills or areas with multiple obstacles.

Ideally, find an open smooth slope with few trees, not too steep and not too flat. Before you start, smile and relax. Make sure you aren’t gripping your poles or hunching your shoulders.

Goal 1: Two contiguous smooth turns. This will help you keep your skis pointed down the fall line and your body centered over your skis.

Continue practicing just a few turns at a time. The minute you get out of control or find your skis steering you out of the fall line and across the slope, stop and start again. Delayed transition turns (see next tip by Geoff Clarke) practiced on groomed slopes really help with guiding your downhill/lead ski into the fall line in this terrain.

Goal 2: Once you have taught your body the feel of flowing through deep or heavy snow with just a few turns at time, link as many as you can. Stop when you lose the flow.

Katie says: “Get off the groomed and practice! I’ll see you out there.”

Lorenzo Worster

  • Certifications: PSIA Level III Telemark, AASI Level II Snowboard
  • Instructor/Backcountry Guide, Alpine Skills International
  • Professional tele skier seen hucking cliffs in numerous freeheel flicks (see Athlete Profile in this issue)
  • First place: 2003 USTSA Alpine Meadows Freeheel Series; 2002 Tele-Cross in Crested Butte, CO; 2003 Tele-Cross Nationals in Copper Mountain, CO

TIP: Don’t Go Big Before Your Time

Jumping, launching cliffs, sliding rails … These can be intimidating, and perhaps painful, particularly if you bite off more than your skills can chew. So start small and nibble your way up. If you can maintain control and stay balanced you’ll be less likely to damage your body – or your confidence. Hit a two-foot cliff first, then a four foot. Make certain you stay in a balanced stance over your feet and that you’re not getting in the backseat and backslapping … Stay in your comfort zone and you won’t develop bad habits that will eventually come back to bite you.

Geoff Clarke

  • Certifications: PSIA Level III Telemark, Level III Track, Level III Alpine
  • PSIA-West Chief Examiner 1991-1994; PSIA Backcountry Coordinator
  • AMGA Certified Ski Guide; AIARE Level 1 avalanche instructor
  • Lead Guide/Instructor, Alpine Skills International

TIP: Steering with the Inside Foot

One of the fundamental moves to learn in telemarking is called “inside foot steering.” This move is used to help flatten the inside ski and directs it into the new turn. It gives you the ability to vary where you make your “lead change.”

One of the best ways to learn it is a maneuver called the “mono tele.” The mono tele is a telemark turn that is made without a lead change.

Pick a gentle groomed slope and start across the slope in an evenly weighted telemark stance. With a slight feeling of pressure of the shin against the cuff of the boot flatten the inside ski and turn it toward the fall line. Try not to rise up while you do this. Keep turning the ski through the fall line and across the slope.

You will finish in a reverse telemark stance. At first it feels awkward, but it gets easier. It helps to have a little speed when practicing.

Once you master this you can make a delayed-shift telemark. Start like a mono tele, but once you get into the fall line make a lead change. It can be difficult to hold off, but wait until you reach the fall line. Think: flatten, steer, lead change. Master this making left and right turns.

Next try to add the lead change a little earlier so it starts just after you flatten the downhill ski. This is the typical telemark turn timing.

Now you will have many options of when and where you lead change. Add some speed to spice it up, then try to edge your inside ski stronger and earlier. Master these moves and you will be able to shred more of the mountain, no matter what the conditions!

Sally Jones

  • PSIA Level III Telemark & Cross Country; PSIA XC Trainer & Examiner
  • Nordic Program Director, Auburn Ski Club Training Center, Donner Summit
  • US Ski Team Certified Cross-Country Coach; also certified with The New Zealand Ski Instructors Alliance
  • Background: Sally has been teaching Nordic skiing for 18 years. She lives in Truckee, where she also teaches Aikido classes and hold the rank of Black Belt.

TIP: Core Centering and Balance, Aikido Style

Here’s a tip that has shifted more than just my skiing these past few years. It comes from my learnings in the martial art of Aikido.

As with most martial arts, Aikido teaches the power and ease that comes from “centering,” especially when we are under pressure. So next time you peer down into that scary chute, or feel intimidated by that cruddy snow, (or search for the words to ask your boss for the day off to go to The Bear Valley Telemark Festival!), focus your attention down to your core – to your center of gravity and your center of balance.

Try moving from a centered place instead of from your head, and notice the difference!

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Gold, Snow, Whiskey and Fast Dope

Downhill Ski Racing Born in the Mining Camps of the Northern Sierra

By Pete Gauvin • Photos courtesy of Plumas County Museum

Winter enthusiasts might assume skiing for sport in North America got its start in the high peaks of the Rockies, or back east somewhere, in the woods of Vermont or the glades of the Adirondacks, perhaps with fur trappers or Western settlers stealing some leisure time having gotten fat and warm, or relatively so, from the bounty of the new land. Somewhere, you’d think, where a long tradition of skiing persists and to this day is celebrated by renowned ski resorts old enough and big enough to ring a bell with ski bums across the country.

‘Course, you’d be wrong. Unless, for some reason, you envision the moderate elevations of the northern Sierra Nevada and towns like La Porte and Johnsville, and other small mining camps in Plumas and Sierra counties, when you think of ski history.

Doubtful.

But indeed the humble peaks and the less-than-famous, resort-free towns of the northern Sierra – sometimes referred to as the “Lost Sierra” for its long-vanished boom towns – can lay claim as the birthplace of ski racing, and skiing for pure entertainment’s sake, in the Western Hemisphere. Credit the hard-scrabble fortune seekers who poured into the region’s gold mining camps in the mid 1800s and found they had a little down time on their hands come winter, tough guys fed by beans and whiskey and more wild than Bode Miller in a Chamonix night club before a World Cup race.

Original California Longboarders

These miners are the original California longboarders. They didn’t surf. They did go fast, though, up to 80 miles per hour, on long planks of wood, vertical-grained Douglas fir usually, two and even three-times their height, secured by leather boots affixed with a couple leather straps.

There was nothing faster in the world of human experience then. Nothing else you could live to tell about anyhow.

“They were nuts,” says Jim Webster, a Quincy civil engineer and founder of the Plumas Ski Club who has strapped on the planks a few times since helping organize a series of longboard revival races. “They’d lay down a pair of tracks and just go for it. Tuck and go.”

A little whiskey in the bloodstream no doubt helped account for the brazen speeds. Competitions were sometimes referred to as “Skiing and Whiskying in the Sierra.”

“Usually the races would go on for several days,” Webster says. “They had dances at night and bars set up at the course and they had a good time. All the racers carried flasks.”

“That’s one of the traditions we try to uphold – tipping a flask at the top of our runs,” says modern-day longboard master Rob Russell, 55, a landscape architect from Quincy. Skiing on a pair of 14-foot longboards he made himself, Russell has won nearly half the 14 “world championships” held since the current revival began in 1990 at the ski hill in Johnsville.

Dope is King!

In addition to big fir planks and whiskey-fed courage –– there was one other key ingredient the miners needed for speed on the hill: Good dope.

“Dope” was the term used for the wax mixture applied to the base of their skis, a complex concoction derived from forestry and mining products, though the base ingredient came from an unlikely source – whaling.

“The recipes to create these substances were closely guarded by the dopemaker, and even today, though the recipes have been handed down, the cooking times were not,” writes Scott Lawson, director of the Plumas County Museum, in a history on longboarding.

“Materials used in the brewing of a batch of dope included spermaceti, a waxy substance from the brow of the sperm whale, oil of cedar, Venice turpentine, oil of tar, wintergreen, soapstone, balsam of fir, (and) pine pitch,” he writes. “The speeds the dope produced led to slogans such as ‘Sierra Lightning’ and ‘Dope is King!’”

Racers were so secretive of their dope, it is believed some of the ingredients were added only to mask the smell of the key substances. Or perhaps the odor of sperm whale headcheese was too much even for a miner’s nose to bear.

Today, Russell notes, revival racers use dope made from straight Paraffin candle wax, as spermaceti is a little difficult to come by and its use would likely set off a Green Peace alert that would be poor publicity, one can imagine, for longboard revivalists.

Transit First

Like all historic skiing cultures, skiing in the northern Sierra was initially employed for purely practical transportation purposes. Called snowshoes or “Norway skates,” the first skis were introduced to the mining camps around 1853. These traveling skis were generally 8-10 feet long.

It wasn’t long before miners idled by deep winter snows began to entertain themselves on these skis with informal races at camps such as Onion Valley, La Porte, Saw Pit, Howland Flat, Gibsonville and Port Wine. The competitions grew more serious and industrious miners began to make their own skis for these competitions, adding length for greater speed.

Wooden ski construction became an art in the region. Carefully selected tight-grained fir was shaped with special planes. The tips were bent by steaming and the bases featured a long groove running down the ski to improve tracking, helping to keep the hell-bent, whiskey-swilling miners on course.

“With the wooden skis you don’t have much camber. If you’ve got real flat skis they tend to wander,” notes Webster, having had first-hand experience at the revival races.

When the current revival got underway in the 1990s, Russell helped start a longboard construction class at Feather River College in Quincy. The class produced a hundred pairs of longboards that skiers continue to use for the revival races.

High Stakes Racing

In 1866, the “Alturas Snowshoe Club” was founded in La Porte and the next year the group organized what is believed to be the first organized ski race in North America, giving birth to the sport of downhill ski racing. In fact, it wasn’t until 10 years later that the first such ski races were held in Norway.

Winners were generally those who had the strongest start, chose the straightest line, had the best dope, and, of course, stayed on their feet. Wipeouts were apparently rare, but one imagines not unheard of.

Rules specified, “No spittin’ or cheatin!”

The races continued through the late 1800s, up until the last recorded race in 1911. Racers represented their town and followed a winter circuit: La Porte, Johnsville, Jamison City, Poker Flat, Sierra City, Monte Cristo, and other smaller outposts.

During their heyday, organized competitions could draw 50 or more racers, 500 spectators and purses of $500 to $1000, according to Lawson’s history. Can you imagine how much money that was back then? No wonder dope was king!

“They could win easily a year’s worth of wages and they’d usually split it between the skier and the dope maker,” Webster says. “Those recipes were a big deal.”

The legendary John “Snowshoe” Thompson, the most famous skier in the West, reportedly came up and raced against the miners, and apparently he got soundly beat by “the Plumas boys,” Russell notes. “That’s when he realized dope was king.”

No Turning Necessary

With unwieldly 10-15 foot boards underfoot, there wasn’t much if any turning involved – or possible – in a longboard race. It was pure straight-line speed skiing.

At the start, racers used a single six-foot long pole, similar to a Norwegian-style lurk but with the addition a block of wood on the end, to get them underway with a few strong lunging thrusts. To slow down, they dragged it behind them like a brake rudder, actually putting it between their legs and sitting on the pole to apply pressure, often creating a spectacular rooster tail of snow in the process. Since, as you might imagine, the braking affect was less than immediate, race hills featured long run-outs at the bottom.

Some of the runs these daredevil miners screamed down would still be impressive by today’s standards. According to the Plumas Ski Club’s history, by 1863, Gold Mountain (so called because after gold was discovered there in 1851, more than 30 miles of mineshafts were built and it eventually supported three stamp mills), now known as Eureka Peak (7,447 ft.), had a downhill run of 2600 feet.

One early longboarder reputedly reached a speed of 90 mph on the Gold Mountain run, which rises a couple thousand feet behind the then-thriving town of Johnsville (elev. 5,180; current pop. 21).

In fact, the mining ore buckets going up Gold Mountain in the late 1800s are believed to have been used by longboarders as the world’s first ski lift.

Revivals May Help Revive Local Ski Hill, Too

Today’s longboard revival skiers should be so fortunate. They must walk to the top of their race hill, even if it is a much shorter course.

Up behind Johnsville near the bottom of the historic Gold Mountain run, the present-day Plumas Eureka Ski Bowl, a 600-foot vertical rope-tow and poma-lift operation established in the 1950s, sits idle.

Although its current two poma lifts (including one from the 1960 Olympics at Squaw Valley) haven’t been open to the public in more than five years, since a local housing developer backed out of running the operation, the ski hill is still home to the longboard revival races and “world championships” hosted by the Plumas Ski Club.

Over the years, longboard racing in the area has gone in and out with the tide of generations. There was a small revival in the 1930s and a larger one in the 1950s. After a long ebb, the present revival started in 1990.

“It was a way to promote the history and the uniqueness of the ski hill,” says Webster. “We needed a way to draw people in from outside because there are maybe 300 skiers in Plumas County.”

Despite many challenges, it’s stuck around due to the enthusiasm of ski club members. The ski club hosts three longboard races annually, snow permitting.

“We’re still trying to resurrect our little ski area but we’ve kept up the longboard races,” Russell says. “Last year we expected to have our 15th annual race but we didn’t have enough snow. This year we removed some brush from the run so we can race even if the snowpack is thin.”

The races generally draw around 35 men and 15 women, all wearing historic attire. “We’ve had women racers in their 70s,” Russell says.

Locals like Russell and Webster are pushing to get the ski hill, which is part of Plumas Eureka State Park, operating again. “We’re working aggressively with California State Parks,” Russell says. “We’re putting in for some grants this spring to run it as a non-profit through the Plumas Ski Club.”

The thread through history the longboard races provide may help them do that.

“We started doing it as a promotion for the hill and it fits in with the history of the state park there,” says Webster.

Now 65, Webster has given up racing. But his wife, Sue Jackson, was women’s world champion in 2004. “All of us who started doing it are getting older and so we’re looking for some new blood,” he says.

Time will tell if longboarding fades back into the history books or lives on in the birthplace of downhill ski racing, the humble hills of the Lost Sierra.

For more on the history of longboarding, find a copy of “Lost Sierra: Gold, Ghosts & Skis: The Legendary Days of Skiing in the California Mining Camps” by William Berry (1992).

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Kickin’ Axe in California

Ice Climbing in Lee Vining Canyon and June Lake Loop

Story and photo by SP Parker

Nearly 40 winters ago, Yvon Chouinard and Doug Robinson scaled the Main Wall ice route in Lee Vining Canyon, off Highway 120 east of Tioga Pass. A near vertical frozen waterfall, the climb was likely a good opportunity to test some new ice climbing tools Chouinard was developing at the time, including an ice axe with a shortened shaft and a curved pick angle. His innovations helped push the sport past its roots as a subset of mountaineering to become a worthwhile winter pursuit in its own right. Since then, the sport has surged in popularity.

Unfortunately for ice climbers, high-quality accessible ice is in limited supply in California. The most consistent ice occurs in the Eastern Sierra canyons of Lee Vining and June Lake—a reasonably short road trip, depending on conditions. Seepage from Eastside spring and creek flows (and, as local legend has it, a little leak or two from Southern California Edison’s nearby power plant) congeals as the temperatures drop, forming intricate pillars and columns of ice. Climbers can choose between easier routes or sheer, overhanging multi-pitch and mixed-climbing routes to test their crampon skills and ice-axe picking techniques—all in a 40-mile radius of winter fun.

Lee Vining

The eponymous Lee Vining Canyon, situated just southwest of the town of Lee Vining on Highway 395, stays cool in the shadows of Mt. Dana. The 2,000-foot high canyon walls are mostly shaded from the sun, almost guaranteeing consistent winter ice. The canyon has several main climbing areas:

The Right and Central (or “Chouinard”) areas feature top-rope bolt anchors (be careful getting to these since they are right at the edge of the cliff) and offer good test routes for novice ice climbers.

The Main Fall area offers more than a dozen multi-pitch routes to choose from. Routes up the face and to either side are mostly M3 to 8 mixed grade and WI 4 and 5 lead climbs (see sidebar, “Ice Climbing Ratings”). Well-known routes include the mixed lines of “Fischer King” and the intermediate route of “Spiral Staircase.”

The Bard-Harrington Wall demands longer pitches but offers some great mixed climbing lines. But take note that the Main Fall and Bard-Harrington areas are the domain of lead climbers. Be sure of your abilities before committing to these longer routes.

Lee Vining Canyon is located some 100 miles south of Reno. Highway 120 is closed in winter so if coming from the Bay Area it is necessary to loop around to Highway 395 via Tahoe. Road access is dependent upon the county plowing so if there is a big storm, the canyon may only be accessible by skis or snowshoes.

Lee Vining is small! For accommodations try Murphey’s Motel—they offer an ice climber discount. Nicely’s restaurant, the only diner in town, is the sure spot to meet up with other ice climbers and fill your mandatory thermos of coffee or hot chocolate.

June Lake Loop

At June Lake, good ice is just a short but steep amble from the side of the June Lakes Loop Road, just south on 395 from Lee Vining.

The formations at June Lake tend to have less overhang and are therefore friendlier to beginners than Lee Vining Canyon’s routes. However, it is necessary to lead up to the top. Also, because the routes are more exposed to sunlight, the ice here can be shorter-lived and a lot more variable with “chandeliers” and “cauliflowers” of soft ice. So-called easier routes can quickly become tricky. “Horsetail Falls” and “Tatums” are the main climbing areas.

June Lake is 10 miles south of the town of Lee Vining. For lodging, try the Whispering Pines Motel here. For luxury treatment after a day spent picking and kicking, the Double Eagle Resort offers spas and massages. They also offer a tasty breakfast with a fireside view of the climbing area.

Due to the shortage of predictable, accessible ice in California, both of these locales are popular. If you can, avoid weekends and come midweek instead. And when the approach means waiting in line for your turn, avoid spending time at the base of climbs when there are others climbing above, for obvious reasons. For ice updates, visit Sierra Mountain Guides’ website at www.sierramtnguides.com.

If winter camping is your thing, check out Big Bend Campground in Inyo National Forest. For camping info, visit www.fs.fed.us/r5/inyo/recreation/campgrounds. For current road conditions in the area, visit http://www.monolake.org/live.

Gear

Here are a few tips to ready your rack for winter climbs:

You can get by with general-purpose mountaineering equipment, but dedicated waterfall climbing tools will make life a lot easier and more enjoyable.

For pure ice climbing, a bent shaft tool is the norm. Also, going leashless is becoming more poplar, just watch out for dropping tools—yours and those belonging to climbers above you.

Keep your ice tools sharp and touch them up with a file rather than a bench grinder which can overheat the points. (With all the sharp pointy equipment required for ice climbing, there are numerous ways to put a hole in yourself or someone else. Pay attention to your points!)

Keep your helmet on when you’re on or near the ice.

Bring several pairs of gloves so that as one pair gets wet you can pull on another.

Originally from New Zealand, SP Parker has lived in the Eastern Sierra for 25 years. Certified in rock, alpine and ski disciplines by the American Mountain Guides Association and with international certification through the IFMGA, he runs a guide service based in Bishop and leads trips throughout the Sierra and worldwide. He is also the author of “Eastern Sierra Ice,” available for sale at www.maximuspress.com.

Ice 101: Get Schooled

Ice climbing is a definite step up in danger from most rock climbing so be sure of your skill and ability before venturing out. If you are not confident in your skills, take a class from a guide or guide service. The following companies, all featuring AMGA or IFMGA certified guides, offer Eastside ice climbing seminars and trips:

Alpine Skills International leads Lee Vining and June Lakes trips for novice and experienced ice climbers alike. They also offer ice axe, crampon and glacial ice workshops. www.alpineskills.com; (530) 582-9170

Sierra Mountain Center features several ice climbing clinics in the Lee Vining area from basic skills to advanced waterfall climbing and private waterfall lessons. www.sierramountaincenter.com; (760) 873-8526

Sierra Mountain Guides, based out of June Lake, offer introductory and advanced ice climbing skills courses, with a two-day classic mixed-route course offered to intermediate climbers. www.sierramtnguides.com; (760) 648-1122

Sierra Wilderness Seminars offers basic and advanced ice climbing seminars as well as mixed-ice and rock technical combo courses. They also offer women-specific clinics. www.swsmtns.com; (888) 797-6867

For more info about ice climbing on the Eastside, visit www.sierraclimbers.com. Or get a copy of the guidebook to the area, “Eastern Sierra Ice,” by SP Parker (www.maximuspress.com).

Ice Climbing Ratings

All rating systems, whether for rock, alpine, ice, or mixed climbing, are subjective and dependent on the area, the climbing history, and the opinions of the climbing community. But for ice climbing and mixed ice climbing, ratings are even less precise because the medium of ice can change daily, seasonally, and—as all ice climbers know—hourly.

Remember ice-climbing ratings are nebulous at best and dangerous at worst. Use sound judgment and trust your instincts.

Water Ice Climbing: The Technical Ice (WI) and Mixed Ice rating systems below are based on various established systems such as the Yosemite Decimal System (YDS), the New England Ice system (NEI), and others.

  • WI1: Walking on ice with crampons, low angle, up a stream bed.
  • WI2: Up to 60 degrees, good protection and belays. Ice usually thick and solid.
  • WI3: Sustained angle of 70 degrees with short steeper sections up to 80-85 degrees, with good protection, resting places, and belays. Ice usually thick and solid.
  • WI4: Sustained angle of 75-80 degrees with short steeper sections up to 90 degrees with good resting places in between; good quality ice offering secure protection and belays.
  • WI5: Sustained angle of 85-90 degrees, vertical with fewer good resting places, while still offering good quality ice for protections and belays.
  • WI6: Sustained angle of 90-plus degrees, vertical with very few resting places, ice may be of poor quality, thin; protection and belays may be difficult to attain.
  • WI7: Vertical to overhanging, ice quality thin, not well-bonded to surface; protection is marginal or non-existent.

Mixed Ice Climbing: Mixed Ice Climbing ratings (MI) are new and are still being developed. The ratings are related to the Yosemite Decimal System used in rock climbing with a liberal dose of “feels like…” subjectivity thrown in for good measure.

  • M1: “Feels like” 5.5 climbing with occasional dry tool move.
  • M2: “Feels like” 5.6 climbing with couple dry tool moves.
  • M3: “Feels like” 5.7 climbing with several dry tool moves.
  • M4: “Feels like” 5.8 climbing/ WI 4 / with some technical dry tooling.
  • M5: “Feels like” 5.9 climbing / WI 5 / some sections for sustained dry tooling.
  • M6: “Feels like” 5.10 climbing / WI 6/ with some vertical or overhanging difficult dry tooling.
  • M7: “Feels like” 5.11 /WI 6 or WI 7/ 10-15 meters of technical dry tooling.
  • M8: “Feels like” 5.11+ / 8-10 meters of slightly overhanging technical dry tooling.
  • M9: “Feels like” 5.12 / 10-15 meters of slightly overhanging technical dry tooling.
  • M10: “Feels like” 5.12- 5.13 / overhanging, technical, strenuous dry tooling.
  • M11: “Feels like” 5.13- 5.14 / Almost at the upper end.
  • M12: “Feels like” 5.14 – ? / Nearing the upper end.
  • M13: “Feels like” 5.14+ / The upper end.
  • M14: “Feels like” 5. ?? New techniques, creativity … the future?

– Timothy Keating

Timothy Keating is an AMGA certified guide with Sierra Wilderness Seminars Mountain Guides. He has been guiding since 1981, and has spent more than 20 years guiding and ice climbing in Lee Vining Canyon. www.swsmountainguides.com; 888-797-6867

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Bela Vadasz: 30 Years of Alpine Guiding

From Cowboy Guide to the Peak of His Profession, This Nor Cal Alpinist Has Led the Way

By Pete Gauvin • Photos courtesy of Bela and Mimi Vadasz

Bela skiing on the Spearhead Traverse,
Whistler/Blackcomb backountry, British Columbia.

Economics and Proposition 13.

These are two of the less obvious reasons why Bela G. Vadasz is a mountain guide and owner of Alpine Skills International, the Truckee-based ski mountaineering, climbing and avalanche education outfit he founded with his wife Mimi in 1979 – making it one of the oldest and most respected programs in the country for teaching human-powered mountain travel.

Were it not for penny-pinching economics, the Hungarian-born San Francisco-raised Vadasz might not have been introduced to ski touring in the Sierra by his father when he was only six, using a pair of Sears work boots his dad rigged to fit the bindings.

“My father figured out a way that we could unhook the back hook of the cable bindings of our, at the time, wooden alpine skis with screw-on metal edges,” says Bela, now 54. “That basically meant that a weekend consisted of one day of touring and one day of paying to ride the lifts. …

“Part of the economics at the time, at Sugar Bowl you had to pay 75 cents more to ride the Magic Carpet Gondola (from the parking area to the base). So we would ski tour across. Then we’d hook the heels down for the rest of the day and ride the lifts.”

Ironically, perhaps prophetically, the very first skiing Bela ever did was right outside what would decades later become the ASI Lodge, at the top of Donner Summit on Old Highway 40.

But what does Bela owe to Proposition 13, the property tax initiative California voters passed in 1978? Well, without it, the impetus for starting ASI might never have come about … But let’s back up a bit first to get the full picture.

Cutting His Teeth in the Sierra

An only child, Bela’s formative childhood years were spent exploring the Sierra with his father, Bela, and mother, Eva.

“My family immigrated when I was three and I grew up in San Francisco and I had a really good opportunity with my parents to visit the Sierra – a lot. … In 1959, I pretty much started skiing and backpacking and peak bagging with my parents, and so I just got that deep-rooted love for the Sierra.”

Around this time, the backpacking boom of the ‘60s was getting underway. A young Bela was able to tag along on harder core trips with his dad’s Austrian friends, who shared a lot of their mountain savvy with him. “They inspired me tremendously,” he recalls.

Common destinations included the Tuolumne Meadows high country, Cathedral Peak and Mt. Lyell in Yosemite.

“We’d do like an 1l-day trip from Tioga Pass to Devil’s Postpile by Mammoth,” Bela remembers. “When I got a little older, about 10, we’d do a lot of peak ascents along the way – Class 2 (off-trail scrambling), Class 3 peaks (hand/foot holds needed), until we had to turn back … We didn’t know how to use a rope, didn’t have a rope.”

That was an impediment Bela was destined to overcome.

The Summer of ‘69

At 16, Bela went to Europe with his father. It was the summer of 1969 and they spent quite a bit of time in the Alps.

“I got to see what mountain guiding was all about. Watching guides bring their clients back to the hut after a spectacular day and seeing the camaraderie and spirit of all that. That’s when I said, ‘OK, this is something I’d really like to pursue.’”

One of the peaks they climbed was the Grossglokner, the highest peak in the Austrian Alps. Years later it would take on a special significance.

Back from Europe, Bela went straight to Yosemite Valley. “That’s when I just went haywire there with Class 5 skills (more difficult rope and belayed climbing).”

Over the next couple years, Bela became active in the Berkeley-based Yosemite climbing community, first with the Sierra Club Rock Climbing Section (RCS) and later with the American Alpine Club.

“At that time, the best climbers were Sierra Club members and they were terrific mentors. People like Allen Steck and Jules Eichorn. These Sierra legends were the people leading most of those weekend trips and so it was an opportunity to pick up a lot as a youngster.”

Pulled in by Scuffed Boots

Bela enrolled at San Francisco State University to study outdoor recreation. That’s when he met Mimi Maki, a Finnish and French girl who grew up in the East Bay.

“I noticed toe scuffs on her hiking boots and I knew there was only one way those toe scuffs got there. That’s from some serious off-trail climbing where there’s a lot of contact with the rock.”

From love at first scuff, the two spent a lot of time “climbing and skiing anything we could.”

Learning the Ropes as Guides

While doing undergraduate and grad work in Recreation and Outdoor Education, they became leaders in the university’s outdoor club and then began leading trips for several continuing education programs in the Bay Area, including Marin Adventures through the College of Marin and Outdoors Unlimited through the University of San Francisco.

In the early ‘70s, university outdoor programs were still in their infancy. “There was a traditional-based curriculum going on (at San Francisco State) … We started to develop more contemporary outdoor programming with cross-country skiing, backcountry skiing, rock climbing and mountaineering.”

This is where they learned how to teach and develop a curriculum that combined elements of the traditional European alpine guiding model and new developments in experiential education.

“We just borrowed from the best of both and fused them into a process and a concept,” says Bela. “That was the basis of our program which still to this day has a lot of educational ideals attached to it, not just pure guiding.”

Much of their teaching style was derived from ski instruction and training with the Professional Ski Instructors of America (PSIA). “Hooking into PSIA early on helped teach us how to teach. We could apply it to pretty much any outdoor skill in terms of how to design a teaching progression.”

Meanwhile, Bela and Mimi were also being mentored by two of the leading alpinists of the ‘60s and ‘70s, Chris Jones and George Lowe, through the American Alpine Club. Actually it was sort of a quid pro quo relationship: Jones and Lowe imparted knowledge from their numerous first ascents in the Canadian Rockies, while Bela and Mimi schooled them in skiing on marathon ski traverses across the Sierra.

“They taught us a lot about going fast and light in the mountains, but we had the skiing thing going and they were really intrigued by that and so it allowed for a little bit of an exchange,” says Bela.

Switching Revenue Streams

Guiding for college programs seemed like a good gig until the “People’s Initiative to Limit Property Taxation,” a.k.a. Prop. 13, arrived on the door step in 1978, threatening to severely crimp public education funding.

“That was a big scare for us. We feared that all these continuing education programs would get cut,” Bela says. “That was the impetus to move into the private sector and start our company in 1979.”

While the fallout from Prop. 13 has had a myriad of debatable benefits and drawbacks, one of the unpublicized perks, for thousands of aspiring skiers and climbers to follow, was the creation of Alpine Skills International.

Ski Touring Set Them Apart

While ASI was about all aspects of alpine travel, there were already other climbing schools and programs operating, such as the Yosemite Mountaineering School. Bela and Mimi felt their young company needed something to distinguish it. They found it in backcountry skiing.

“Skiing kind of challenged us because there was no one else doing it,” says Bela. “It was such a new frontier at the time. A lot more people had climbed El Cap than had crossed the Sierra on skis.”

The gear of the day only added to the challenge.

“We had these terrible skinny skis and floppy boots and we just did the best we could because that’s all we really had. It was either that or really heavy gear that was slower in the long run for us.”

Their secret for success in the Sierra was timing.

“We sort of found that magic window from the middle of April to the end of May, six weeks when the snow would corn up in the high country. And that’s why skinny skis worked because we could stay on top of the snow.”

For many avid backpackers and climbers, ASI’s guided ski trips opened the door to seeing the “Range of Light” in an entirely new dress.

“We could get around and be mobile and we could see the incredible mountain range of the Sierra Nevada where granite was now accented with all the snow. … In a way, I think that was the real beginning of the good stuff.”

Going Back to the Alps

The next stage in ASI’s evolution was the addition of trips to Europe.

“When Mimi and I had a chance to go back to Europe in the summer for alpine climbing, just the sight of the awesome grandeur blew our polypropylene socks off. Then to go back there and ski, that was another fantastic experience.”

Bela has done the Haute Route from Chamonix to Zermatt 21 times since 1983. “That’s where I really learned to ski guide. I was able to work directly with European ski guides.”

But guiding American clients on the Haute Route presented additional challenges that had nothing to do with language.

“People would read about Haute Route in magazines and say I want to do that. But in Europe people are more experienced ski tourers. To bring greenies over there from the Sierra, that was big country with some serious challenges. We learned the hard way that we had to prep people up a little more to help get them ready.”

Tweaking the Guide Model

While there was much to be learned from the Euro guides’ practices, the European guiding model – small ratio 1:1 or 2:1 high-cost guiding — was not something that would fly here, Bela says.

The American model of larger groups made it more affordable for more people to participate. It focused more on education than personalized guiding, in part because the Sierra’s more benign terrain and weather makes going without a guide more of an option.

“The influence we got from going back to Europe and tracing the roots and the history and understanding the tradition and the need for the style of guiding based on those alpine peaks, their size and their magnitude and the length of the routes was invaluable. (That terrain) dictates a whole guiding style that’s necessary. California’s mountains are a little more forgiving. You could take a do-it-yourself mentality and could get a way with it, sometimes.”

It’s more than just size that determines a different guiding approach.

“In a way the hardcore Alps are more accessible. You can take lifts and do a pretty hard route and be back down that day. Whereas in the Sierra it usually takes a day just to get up there. … It’s more of a mountain experience there, where here it’s more of a wilderness experience.”

Rounding Up Cowboy Guides

These differences and the lack of a standardized, unified credential system contributed to the perception that American guides were, as a whole, a notch below their European peers.

“Here in America we were cowboy guides. There was no doubt about it. And it worked for the time and the era and organic period that was going on in the late ‘70s. But it didn’t cut it in the big mountains and it took us a while to adjust and adapt.”

Bela played a key role in trying to change that.

The first big step was the inception of the American Mountain Guides Association in the early ‘80s. The AMGA created a rigorous certification and examination process for guides in three disciplines: Rock, Alpine, and Ski Mountaineering. Bela, who is certified in all three, directs the Ski Mountaineering program.

But gaining the peak of international recognition was still far from view, and many AMGA guides were not convinced it was a worthwhile endeavor. Bela was not among them. Beginning in the early ‘90s, in his role as coordinator of the AMGA’s Ski Mountaineering program, he helped spearhead the campaign for acceptance into the International Federation of Mountain Guide Associations (IFMGA).

“It was a big learning curve. Not everyone had been to Europe and seen the IFMGA … It took almost 10 years before the AMGA was ready to be accepted by the IFMGA.”

Coming Full Circle

That day came in 1997 at the IFMGA’s annual meeting, which rotated locations from year to year. In 1997 it was held in Austria, in the village right underneath the Grossglokner, the very same peak Bela had climbed with his father nearly 30 years before.

Bela and one other American guide, Mark Houston, were there to receive their IFMGA pins, signifying the highest recognized certification in mountain guiding in the world.

“(The experience) was absolute full circle,” says Bela. “That IFMGA acceptance was a huge step, a milestone in recognizing the professionalism of mountain guiding in America.”

To qualify as an IFMGA guide, you have to be certified by the AMGA in all three disciplines, a rigorous training and certification process that usually takes three to five years. That’s why Mimi, a certified AMGA ski mountaineering guide, did not pursue IFMGA certification as well: They couldn’t both afford the time commitment while raising their two boys.

Today, there are just over 50 American guides who have gone through the entire process. By comparison, in Switzerland alone, one of the core alpine countries where the federation started, there are more than 1500 IFMGA guides.

While the role of international recognition in American mountain guiding is young and developing, “each year the value of that certification process becomes more apparent.”

Mountain Guides not Horse Packers

With IFMGA certification now established, Bela has been working to extract a constant thorn in the side of guides for years: land access and the convoluted, restrictive permitting process.

“In Europe when you have your IFMGA certification you can go anywhere … Here, we face a big challenge with land managers to obtain little bits of turf we can guide on.”

The U.S. Forest Service and national parks, for instance, issue outfitter guide permits based on a “horse-packing model” and “we’re lumped in that same category,” he says.

“I’m fortunate because I got a lot of permits early on before they put moratoriums on them. A lot of young guides right now in America want to get their IFMGA pin just so they can go to the Alps and guide. We still face that huge challenge here of the land managers not really having the courage to say, `OK, you’re a certified guide, you can guide. If you’re not a certified guide, you can’t guide.’”

Bela believes guides who began guiding before certification should be able to keep guiding and finish their careers. “But in this day and age, certification is here, it is in place and everyone should embrace it. The public should, the guides should and the land managers. But those kind of things take a lot of time.”

Remembering the Lodge

Before the drive to gain international certification started, there was another more visible outgrowth inspired by Bela and Mimi’s trips to the Alps: the ASI Lodge at the top of Donner Summit.

A basic Euro-style bunk and breakfast, the lodge provided inexpensive shelter ($24 for bunk and hearty breakfast), a meeting place for adventurous souls to hook up for trips, and a place for ASI to stage its courses and present slideshows of grand adventures. It opened in 1983.

“Back then it was at the end of the plowed road so you really had a feeling of isolation there. It was almost like you were taking your first step into the backcountry,” says Bela. “It was great for ASI because it was a feeder that got everybody excited.”

The lodge ran for 18 years before Bela and Mimi closed it in 2001 and it became home to the Sugar Bowl Academy.

“Times changed and it became more of a place for people looking for a cheap place to stay, which eroded its purpose. Between running the lodge and the ASI program it took every bit of our time, and we needed to focus more on our boys (Tobin, now 16, and Logan, 12) … The other benefit is that it allowed us to refocus on ASI programs and develop them to what we have now.”

Adjusting to a New Market

Today, operating out of the upstairs of The BackCountry store in Truckee, ASI still works with all levels of the public but a big chunk is now focused on guide training. Bela’s biggest client is the Marine Corps Mountain Warfare Training Center on the east side of Sonora Pass. Bela trains about 50 Marines per year to be instructors in each discipline: ski, avalanche, rock climbing and alpine mountaineering.

Significant changes have been made to ASI programs for the public, too. Today there is a much greater emphasis on avalanche education and less demand for ski training.

When ASI started, almost everything they taught was the next step beyond backpacking.

“Today, there isn’t that common thread to build on. For example in climbing. Climbing was an extension of backpacking. People came as backpackers that couldn’t get to the top of the peak. … Nowadays they come from the climbing gym. So they don’t really have that deep-rooted feeling of love for the mountains already in place.”

Backcountry skiing was an extension of backpacking, as well. “But now, just like rock climbing comes from the gym, it’s skiers coming from the resort. People hone their skills at the resort and catch wind of the idea of going out of bounds: A little side country at first, then a little backcountry, then developing their skills to go deeper into the backcountry.”

Avalanche education was less of a concern when skiers waited for the spring corn season to explore and the gear limited the number of skiers who would challenge avy-prone terrain.

“Back then it took us years to build our skills and confidence on that skinny, crummy gear. And in the process, we did learn a little bit more about the mountains and avalanches. Now people in their first year are getting right into the terrain in the dead of winter … People accepted a slower learning curve back then. Now they want the goods right away.”

The growth of snowboarding and improvements in Alpine Touring gear have also made it significantly easier for thousands more people to get into the backcountry without having to undergo a long apprenticeship in telemark skiing.

“Backcountry skiing is having a big boom and the avalanche education is an integral part of the whole thing. But there’s really no shortcut to learning all these skills. It’s over time that you develop the intuitive senses and the observation skills and the knowledge.”

Recognizing this, Bela is working to put together an AMGA course for top-level ski instructors (PSIA Level III) so that they can guide out of bounds at ski areas and introduce people to off-piste backcountry conditions with an experienced, certified guide.

It’s all part of the continuing evolution of guiding and ASI, which today continues to thrive by adapting to the environment. Just like a guide would.