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    <title>Epic: Explore Your Life</title>
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    <description>Outdoor News and stories from Epic.</description>
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    <pubDate>Thursday, 2 Nov 2006 15:30:00 -0500</pubDate>
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<item>
<title> EPIC Podcasts </title>
<author>EPIC</author>
<link>/podcasts/index.xml</link>
<description><![CDATA[
<p>Subscribe to the Epic Podcasts to hear from today's top outdoor athletes as well the legends of backcountry sports. <a href="/podcasts/index.xml">Click here for a list of our lastest podcasts.</a></p>
]]></description>
<category>Podcasts</category>
<pubDate>Thurs, 5 Apr 2007 01:30:00 -0500</pubDate>
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<item>
      <title>Trailblazer</title>
	  <author>Dean Karnazes</author>
      <link>/tips/april07/trailblazer.shtml</link>
      <description><![CDATA[
	  <p><strong>The right piece of gear is often the difference between a memorable and a miserable time—so choose wisely.</strong></p>
		<p>With a steady stream of record-setting performances, ultramarathoner Dean Karnazes continues to redefine the outer limits of human endurance. In the past year alone, he completed a mind-boggling 50 marathons in 50 days in The North Face’s Endurance 50. Karnazes, author of the best-selling book Ultramarathon Man: Confessions of an All-Night Runner, answers EPIC’s questions about running, his life, and his worldview.</p>      


<p>Q: What do you do to recover?<br>
A:  Drink copious amounts of tequila (laughter). Just kidding. To recover, sometimes after really long runs I take ice baths. I make sure to drink ample fluids after running, and eat salmon four or five days a week. The Omega-3s in salmon really seem to help with recovery. </p>


<p>Q: What's your favorite inspirational quote?<br>
A: "It's not how many times you fall down that matters, it's how many times you get back up." My dad once said that to me.</p>


<p>Q: How many pairs of runners do you own or go through in a year?<br>
A: Right now, I own about 50 pairs of running shoes. I do footwear testing and development for The North Face, so I'm constantly trying new designs. I typically burn through about 25 to 30 pairs a year, just in running alone.</p>


<p>Q: As you wrote in your book, many people come to a point where they are not happy with their lives, but not many come to the conclusion that running for 24 hours straight will solve the problem. What would our world be like if there were more people doing endurance sports?<br>
A: I guess the environment would be in better shape. We'd also save a lot in healthcare costs. Kidding aside, I think many people find self-fulfillment through endurance sports. From personal experience, I know that I’m a better person, a happier person, because of my participation in endurance sports. Perhaps if everyone started running, this world might be a better place. </p>


<p>Q: When you started running again on your 30th birthday, it was like a therapy. Is it still like that for you?<br>
A: Very much so. To me, running is tremendously liberating. Running rejuvenates my spirit. I know a lot of other runners who feel this same way.</p>


<p>Q: You've found out a lot about your body and your mind through running. These lessons could be beneficial for the rest of your life, while running less. What keeps you running so much?<br>
A: It's the idea of "Never Stop Exploring," the concept of always trying to go farther, of trying to expand the perceived limitations of your capability. Ultimately, it's about personal growth and expansion.</p>


<p>Q: In life, many people try to avoid pain, but you invite pain. Talk about this.<br>
A: In Western culture, I think we've created an ideal that doesn’t serve us well. We thought that if we had every imaginable convenience, if we removed all pain and discomfort from our lives, we'd be happy. What we've found instead is that because we're so comfortable, we're miserable. There is no struggle in our lives, no pain. What I've found is that I never feel so alive as when I'm in pain and struggling.</p>


<p>Q: You've developed a special technique to manage pain during running. How do you apply this?<br>
A: I use a method I simply call "baby steps." Instead of thinking about the distances still left to cover, which can be daunting and overwhelming, I just focus on taking one step at a time. Even if there are hundreds of kilometers still left in front of me, I don't think about that. I stay in the moment and just put one foot in front of the other, taking baby steps. You either keep going, or pass out. Either way, it's pretty adventurous.</p>


<p>Q: Men's Fitness magazine said you might just be the fittest man on the planet. Don't you have any weaknesses?<br>
A: Oh, I have plenty, just ask my wife. Though my body is in pretty good shape, I still have lots of learning and personal growth ahead.</p>


<p>Q: Let's talk about the Endurance 50. Did you gain any new insights during these 50 marathons regarding running, or life in general?<br>
A: What I saw during The North Face Endurance 50 was the very best in human nature. Thousands of other runners joined me at points along the way and ran with me. I received hundreds of messages and letters from across the globe. The positive energy and goodwill of people gave me tremendous hope that as a planet, we can live harmoniously and enjoy together this brief part of history when we all inhabit the universe.</p>


<p>Q: Running 50 marathons in 50 days sounds like a contradiction to all theories of training science, especially regarding recovery. Are you an anomaly of the human species?<br>
A: What we saw during the 50 marathons was my body actually getting stronger, rather than breaking down, over the course of 50 days. The 50th marathon, the very last one, was my fastest time, 3:00:30. I don't think I'm unique or gifted in any way. I believe that if someone trained as hard as I did, and had the discipline to do all the things I did to prepare for the challenge, anybody could do it. The human body is remarkably resilient. I sometimes think we don't give ourselves enough credit for the things we can do.</p>
<p>Q: What do you think about the story of the fictional character of Forrest Gump who in one period of his life seems to run virtually nonstop?<br>

A: I've never heard of that one (laughter).</p>
<p>Q: Are there any parallels to your life?<br>
A: Funny, but I think there are. He seemed like a pretty simple person, and I would say I'm the same. Someone asked me the other day what I was going to do when I grew up. I answered, "I hope I never have to."</p>
<p>Q: What are you plans for the future? Running around the world? On the moon?<br>
A: Funny you should say that—someone just submitted my name to NASA as a person who could run a marathon on the moon. For now, I'll keep my feet on the ground.</p>
<p>Want to learn more about Dean Karnazes?<a href="http://www.thenorthface.com/na/athletes/athletes-DK.html " target="_blank">Click here.</a>
</p>

		<p>&nbsp;</p>
          <p><em>Posted on April 24,2007</em></p>
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      <pubDate>Tuesday, 24 Apr 2007 11:45:00 -0500</pubDate>

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<item>
      <title>High Marks</title>
	  <author>Leslie Woit </author>
      <link>/outahead/april07/highmarks.shtml</link>
      <description><![CDATA[
	  <p><strong>A new Nepalese climbing school digs a foothold into improving the lives of   Sherpas&mdash;as well as those who climb with them. </strong></p>
		<p><em>By Leslie Woit  </em></p>

		<p>In peak climbing season, the slopes of the   Himalayas are peopled by a kind of United Nations. Yet scratch the surface of any   successful high-alpine expedition, and you&rsquo;ll find the same ethnic group again   and again: the Sherpa.  </p>
		<p>Members of a Tibetan tribe who settled in Nepal a   few centuries ago, the Sherpa are renowned for their physical strength, stamina   and, most notably, their natural acclimatization to the region&rsquo;s head-spinning   altitude. </p>
		<p>They&rsquo;re often called the unsung heroes of the   Himalayas&mdash;few climbers ever reach these mountains&rsquo; heights without the aid of   local Sherpa teams carrying food, fuel, gear, and oxygen, and providing support   on a summit push. </p>
		<p></p>
		<p><strong>What could be better? </strong></p>
		<p>How about a safety-based curriculum that covers   technical ice-climbing skills, medical training, rescue procedures, and English   lessons? The Khumbu Climbing School provides an annual intensive two-week   session attended by nearly 60 Sherpa altitude workers. </p>

		<p>&ldquo;Sherpas are amazing people, they&rsquo;re so strong.   They have the best attitude, and are so excited to learn and be at the school,&rdquo;   says Heidi Wirtz, a Boulder, Colorado&ndash;based mountain guide who has taught for   three consecutive years at the first formal training operation for Sherpas, the   Khumbu Climbing School. </p>

		<p>&ldquo;Year to year, the change is amazing,&rdquo; observes   Wirtz. &ldquo;Some are leading ice by the end of the school. Plus they have a lot of   fun&mdash;and they don&rsquo;t really have a lot of fun in their lives.&rdquo; </p>

		<p>Created under the auspices of the Alex Lowe   Charitable Foundation, the school is the brainchild of Jenni Lowe-Anker and   Conrad Anker, two Americans with strong links to Nepalese mountain life. The   couple&mdash;she the widow and he the former climbing partner of Alex Lowe, who was   killed in an avalanche in Tibet in 1999&mdash;started the trailblazing school four   years ago. Its stated aim is to provide the basic training and fundamental   skills needed to make high-altitude work as safe as possible for the Sherpas.   The implied advantage is to give something back to the community that has given   them&mdash;and gave their loved one, Alex&mdash;so much. </p>

		<p>Training is conducted on frozen waterfalls on   the northern flank of Khumbila Peak, with groups divided according to their   varying degrees of know-how. </p>

		<p>&ldquo;Our group was comprised of a remarkable team of   individuals,&rdquo; explains Khumba Climbing School teacher Pete Athans, a fluent   Nepali speaker who has climbed Everest seven times. &ldquo;There was Jamling Bhotia,   who had climbed both Everest and Cho Oyu within the previous year. On the other   end of the spectrum was Kiran Rai, a slender, athletic person who had been   involved in the trekking business, though he had never climbed per se.&rdquo; </p>

		<p>Any differences in experience levels, according   to Athans, are compensated for by the students&rsquo; &ldquo;remarkable enthusiasm and   almost boundless, unbridled energy.&rdquo; </p>

		<p>All guides volunteer   their time for free, and cover their own expenses. The project is frugally run,   and also serves to inject money into the local economy by renting its   accommodation. </p>
		<p>Like the other 14 Western   guides at Khumbu Climbing School, Wirtz recognises the value in world-class   climbers providing consistent training to their field colleagues. Convening in   the off-season, within sight of Cho Oyu and only miles from mighty Mount   Everest, she sees her contribution as part of a greater whole, she says: &ldquo;I&rsquo;m   putting my climbing towards something bigger.&rdquo; </p>
		<p>For more information on the Khumbu   Climbing School in Phortse, Nepal, see <a href="http://www.alexlowe.org" target="_blank" >www.alexlowe.org</a> </p>

		  <p>Leslie Woit travels have taken her around   the globe, including recent trips to Tibet and Norway. </em></p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
          <p><em>Posted on April 4,2007</em></p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>

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      <pubDate>Tuesday, 4 Apr 2007 15:45:00 -0500</pubDate>
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    <item>
      <title>The Magic Yeti</title>
	  <author>Pete Athans</author>
      <link>/outahead/april07/magicyeti.shtml</link>
      <description><![CDATA[
	  <p><strong>The Magic Yeti: A High Himalayan Children&rsquo;s Library </strong></p>
		<p>Pete Athans knows well the power of books&mdash;his lifelong quest to climb Mount   Everest was inspired by one. Now, he wants to return the favor. </p>
		<p><em>By Pete Athans </em></p>
		<p>My earliest memories and some of my earliest motivations were   inspired magically from the pages of books. Dogeared, folded pages, and smudged   photographs characterized my early library, and there were many books to love,   given that both of my parents were professional educators. But one title stands   out as the best, though you wouldn&rsquo;t have known it from looking at the cover.   Rather, there were simply two crossed ice axes and a whimsical coil of climbing   rope on the outside of this picture book about the Swiss who very nearly were   the first climbers to summit Mount Everest in 1953, a year before the British.   Tenzing Norgay Sherpa and Raymond Lambert were denied the summit then, but the   photos of that remarkable book&mdash;as primitive and raw as they are&mdash;succeeded in   engendering the dream of climbing Everest in the imagination of a 4-year-old. I   was that boy, and though it required some time, I managed to reach the rooftop   of the world seven times, mostly sparked by a commitment I silently made years   before behind the pages of that remarkable book. </p>

		<p>Now the dream is to put books into the hands of   kids who live in the valley at the foot of Mount Everest&mdash;not only to inspire   them to dream, but to encourage them to read. Those of us who have had the   privilege of traveling to Khumbu first learned about the Sherpa&rsquo;s homeland   through books, magazines, and documentary films. We bring books when we travel   to the high Himalaya, even exchange them with fellow climbers and trekkers in   lodges, while kids look on. They covet the pictures they see in our magazines,   often asking eager questions. Many never learn to read, destined to continue   their cultural tradition of being trekking guides and climbing Sherpas. Many   families are now sending their children to school in Kathmandu, a Twin Otter   flight away from home, to get what they believe is a better education and   increased chances of working outside the usual Sherpa jobs. The kids that remain   will go to the local school and learn to read in Nepali and English, but at a   basic level at best. The books they have access to in Khumbu are mostly   government-issue textbooks. No books are whimsically illustrated, few are for   pleasure, and none of the current titles contain words or images to spark their   inquisitive minds. </p>

		<p>What if we were to set up a small children&rsquo;s   library with books in English and Nepali for families to share? </p>

		<p>The Magic Yeti Children&rsquo;s Library will be the   first of its kind in Khumbu, an attempt to increase literacy amongst the people   of Khumbu and introduce children to books through art, adventure, family   support, and community commitment. The library space will be a meeting place for   children and families, a place where kids can work through puzzles, take part in   art projects, and explore the world through books donated by families and kids   from around the world. </p>

		<p>My wife, Liesl Clark, first conceived the idea   of The Magic Yeti Library. As a filmmaker and writer of six years for WGBH of   Boston, she has produced episodes of the award-winning science series <em>Nova</em>, including &ldquo;Into the Death Zone&rdquo; and &ldquo;Lost on   Everest,&rdquo; plus National Geographic&rsquo;s film <em>Surviving   Everest,</em> celebrating 50 years of Everest exploration. With all these films   to her credit, she is no stranger to the Himalaya region, and she confesses that   she is an accidental climber because her filmmaking has frequently taken her   above 7,000 meters (22,966 feet). </p>

		<p>Finn and Cleo, ages 3 and 1, round out our   little nuclear team, but our family is not alone in our efforts to establish a   library in the Himalayas. Our family has found many friends in the journey,   including Phoebe Coburn of Jackson, Wyoming, and Jenni Lowe-Anker and Conrad   Anker of Bozeman, Montana. Phoebe has been organizing book drives and donation   parties, and has been extremely successful in raising funds in her hometown.   Jenni and Conrad have been instrumental in assisting the library by bringing our   project into the group of initiatives sponsored by the Alex Lowe Charitable   Foundation. It is through this organization that we post our <a href="http://www.thenorthface.com/na/expeditions-feature.html" target="_blank"><strong>dispatches and   updates</strong></a>, and it is where interested, inspired parties can join us and donate   funds and books. Have a look at www.alexlowe.org for more information. </p>
		<p></p>
		<p><em>In addition to climbing Mount Everest seven times, <a href="/expeditions/nov06/sevenAccidental.shtml" target="_self">Pete Athans &quot;accidentally&quot; completed the Seven Summits not too long ago.</a> </em></p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
		<p><em>Posted on April 4,2007</em></p>

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      <pubDate>Tuesday, 4 Apr 2007 15:42:00 -0500</pubDate>
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	<item>
      <title>How "Softgear" Saved My Life</title>
	  <author>Peter Kray </author>
      <link>/tips/Mar07/layer.shtml</link>
      <description><![CDATA[
<p>Lost and alone, a writer learned firsthand how a little layering knowledge could bring him a long way back to safety.</p>

<p><em>By Peter Kray</em></p>

<p>Lost in the dark on a snow-covered mountain, I had three thoughts sprinting through my mind: “I don’t want to die,” “I want to see my wife and dogs again,” and “If I live through this, I’m going to have some great material for my story about layering.”</p>

<p>For two weeks I’d interviewed technical clothing designers and outdoor retail experts about that very subject. I took copious notes on the apparently limitless possibilities of using base layers, insulating layers, and outerwear to build barriers of warmth between your skin, the cold, and the wind. And I was all set to write a story about how essential the right clothing is—“softgear,” as critical a piece of equipment as the right ice axe or avalanche transceiver. Then I set out for a short backcountry ski tour and got lost. In the blink of an eye, all my hours of theory were put into practice, and I was planning a strategy for survival in a potentially lethal situation.</p>

vI had intended to go for a two-hour tour (shades of Gilligan’s Island) at the end of a day of lift-served skiing. But somewhere in the midst of tracking powder through zigs of pine and zags of aspen, I crossed a ridge and dropped deep down into a wide, strange basin.</p>

<p>I had already sweated through my base layer on the climb. And as I looked at the ominous ice-covered cliffs and long steep ridges back to where I thought I should be, I started sweating again.</p>

<p>At least I was well prepared—even for a supposedly short journey—with a backpack full of water, a space blanket, fire-starter, and extra layers of clothing. One of the few immediate positives was the VaporWick fabric in my base layer, actively wicking away the sweat and keeping the core of my body warm. As soft and pliable as an old T-shirt, the synthetic fabric was actively drying as I perspired, reducing evaporative heat loss as it pulled moisture away from my skin.</p>

<p>Whether it’s a synthetic, silk, or wool, a lightweight, midweight, or heavyweight layer, when you go into the mountains your base layer needs to be warm, comfortable, and, most importantly, able to quickly wick perspiration away from your skin. This is the essential step to prevent you from becoming hypothermic, and one which most modern base layers—unlike cotton—provide. </p>

<p>“The problem with cotton is that it doesn’t wick,” Linda Mogetz of The Boot Doctors in Taos, New Mexico, told me when I asked why “cotton kills,” has become a truism in mountaineering. “Whether it’s a synthetic, silk, or wool, you need something that will wick the sweat away from your body to keep you warm.”</p>

<p>A Ski Magazine Gold Medal ski shop for five years running, The Boot Doctors make their reputation by focusing on the essential needs of people who are active in the mountains. According to Mogetz, base layers are the starting point for almost every conversation.</p>

v“It’s become increasingly important,” she said. “Whether it’s someone who’s going to hike The Ridge [to Taos’ legendary Kachina Peak], or someone on a weeklong ski vacation, finding the right base layer can mean finding the right piece of clothing for all four seasons.”</p>

<p>For me, disoriented and more than a little distressed, it meant I could concentrate on more immediate methods of self-rescue. I first tried to skin up a steep ridge, but I got hopelessly bogged down in heavy powder that kept sloughing. Then I attempted to bootpack up a more direct ascent, where I sank through rotten snow clear to the ground.</p>

<p>I tried two more ascents, and added or removed a layer of clothing four separate times. When I tried to hike, I stripped down to my base layer. But every time I started to ski, I got cold almost instantaneously and had to put an insulating layer on.</p>

<p>“The idea of layering is that you can create a micro-environment around your body that you can control as you’re exercising,” David Schaeffer, product manager of Outerwear at The North Face had told me when I called to discuss the tenets of layering with him.</p>

<p>Schaeffer told me that versatility is the key, because, like your luck, the weather can change in a second in the mountains. “I think people are really starting to understand how they can use layers in the mountains and dial in what they need to bring,” he said.</p>

<p>After the fourth failed ascent, I needed a dramatic change of approach. I decided to ski for the valley and the highway far below, dumping vertical as quickly as possible while I still had light from the rapidly setting sun. I put on a vest, and then a softshell jacket over that, well-insulated against everything but my growing anxiety about what was to come.</p>

<p>Whether it’s fleece, down, or a synthetic fill jacket that wraps around your core like a big bear hug, Schaeffer said, “The <a href="http://www.thenorthface.com/opencms/opencms/tnf/gear-shop-subcategory.jsp?category=11&amp;site=NA&amp;subcategory=113" target="_blank">insulating layer</a> creates a halo of non-moving air around your body to keep you warm.” </p>

<p>Down provides the pinnacle of insulation in high-altitude environments, he added, and compresses easily. But when it’s wet, it doesn’t do anything. </p>

<p>“It becomes completely useless and can actually make you colder,” Schaeffer said. “Synthetic insulation is heavier and less compressible, but it retains its shape when it’s wet, which means it continues to trap warm air for insulation.”</p>

<p>As the stars came out, followed by the most beautiful light-throwing moon I have ever seen (thank you, moon), I realized I wasn’t going to get wet anytime soon. Not unless I fell into the snow-covered creek I had to keep crossing as the drainage led me into a box canyon.</p>

<p>Alternating skiing and hiking where the snow had melted off the trail, I dropped some 6,000 vertical feet in about 10 miles between 6 and 9 p.m. When I found a picnic table I almost cried, then a rutted road, a dumpster (a dumpster!), and finally a graded dirt road where I was out in the open in a cold, gusting wind.</p>

<p>Hiking in my ski boots, wondering why there weren’t any lights around the lake below, I stopped one last time to put on my outerwear. Waterproof, windproof, and breathable, this was my last hard-shelled defense against the cold. Snuggled up inside with my pit zips open to expel the excess heat, I felt I could walk all night if that became the plan.</p>

<p>“The outer layer or weather barrier’s first job is to protect the integrity of the warm air trapped by insulators,” Schaeffer had explained about the last critical layer. “But it also keeps the wind from penetrating and letting cold air replace the warm air around your core. It protects you from direct contact with cold water and snow, which is the fastest way to lose heat in the mountains.”</p>

<p>Having all three layers was critical to my staying warm. The base layer, the insulation, and the outerwear all contributed to my being able to dial in my protection while I searched for shelter and a speedy return to civilization.</p>

<p>It’s the reason I was smiling, bundled up in all my gear, as the headlights finally came up the road behind me. I didn’t even have to wave—so odd was the sight of a benighted skier in this summer recreation area. The window came down and a voice from inside the warm, heated car asked, “Where did you come from, man?”</p>

<p>Layer by Layer

<p><strong><a href="http://search.thenorthface.com/exec/?q=VAPORWICK&site=NA&env=prod" target="_blank">Base layers:</a></strong> When choosing your base layer, decide how much exercise you really want to do. If you plan on lots of aerobic activity, a lightweight layer is best. Mid- or heavyweight layers are for colder situations or less strenuous activity. Having a heavier base layer in your pack is always a good idea. </p>

<p><strong><a href="http://www.thenorthface.com/opencms/opencms/tnf/gear-shop-subcategory.jsp?category=11&site=NA&subcategory=113" target="_blank">Insulation:</a></strong> Probably the most versatile layer, the insulation layer can also double as outerwear in moderate conditions. Fleece is the most versatile layer, because of its ability to dry quickly and keep insulating even when it’s wet. Vests or down jackets are easy to store and also great to keep in your pack. </p>

<p><strong><a href="http://www.thenorthface.com/opencms/opencms/tnf/gear-shop-subcategory.jsp?category=11&site=NA&subcategory=111" target="_blank">Outerwear:</a></strong> As simple as a rain jacket or as beefy and durable as a full-on GORE-TEX XCR shell, your outerwear needs to provide an effective barrier between you and the wind, rain, and snow. </p>

<p>Pete Kray writes about epic outdoor adventures from Santa Fe, New Mexico</p>
 
<p><em>Posted March 21, 2007</em></p>

		  ]]></description>
      <pubDate>Thursday, 21 Mar 2007 15:00:00 -0500</pubDate>
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	<item>
      <title>Weakest Link: The Human Element</title>
	  <author>Tom Murphy and Howie Schwartz </author>
      <link>/tips/Mar07/thehumanelement.shtml</link>
      <description><![CDATA[
	  <p>Group dynamics and distorted perceptions pose the greatest danger to backcountry travelers.</p>
		<p>Human factors—you know, the emotional and psychological baggage that influence daily judgement—serve us well most of the time. But—and it’s a big but—they can lead you down an avalanche chute of bad decisions in the backcountry. To avoid being a victim, you need to be keenly aware of human factors in backcountry terrain selection.</p>

<p>In an analysis of all of the fatal avalanche articles in the 1990s, researchers determined that terrain, weather, and snowpack conditions all contributed—but that the primary culprits were human factors.(1)</p>

<p>Learning to recognize when your own human factors are affecting a decision is the only way to stop yourself before you do something that leads to a serious accident.</p>
 
<p>Some recent research(2) offers much-needed tools in that task.</p>
 
<p>When you’re spending a day in the backcountry with friends, it’s essential—but not easy—to admit that you’re heading into avalanche terrain. Before you hit that high-risk environment—and while you’re there—here are some ways to head off those dangerous human-factor problems: </p>
<p>&bull; Choose partners whose risk-acceptance levels are similar to yours, and who you communicate with easily. You and your partners should have agreed-upon goals and objectives as well as comparable travel skills.</p>

<p>&bull; Become a team. In a team, everyone is responsible for the outcome. Encourage team members to communicate observations and to challenge group decisions when uncomfortable.

<p>&bull; When there is no assigned group leader, it’s imperative that the group self-manage. To achieve this goal, a group must use a “team mentality.” If there is a group leader, he or she will achieve better buy-in from group members by including all in the decision-making process. 

<p>&bull; Group members must communicate. Start the day by asking what everyone in the group feels the avalanche danger is and what their recommendations are for avoiding trouble. Revisit this discussion often during the day.

<p>The objective of a trip may be to ski “Big Bowl” or climb “Mellow Mountain,” but the goal is always to return safely. Make a clear distinction between the goal and the objective at the start of the trip. After that, use the communication methods mentioned above, and the stage is set for proactively taming human-factor problems. 

<p>You can avoid many of these “perception traps,” which pose great risk in the backcountry. Begin by doing accurate planning and preparation. Before getting in the field, ask yourself, “Who am I going with? Can I communicate well with these team members? Is their risk-acceptance level similar to mine?” Make sure you use team concepts, and avoid becoming just another random group with no plan or options in place. In a team, everyone is responsible for the outcome.

<p>In some instances, you may find yourself in a group where you can sense that they may be oblivious to the fact that they are recreating in a high-risk environment. They may also be unaware of the many potentially dangerous human factors. It will be up to you to set up the platform for communication within this group. One simple icebreaker in such a group is to ask what they think the avalanche danger is that day. This approach can get the communication ball rolling; from there, attempt to develop a strategy to deal with the tour. If you can see your efforts are falling on deaf ears, reconsider being part of such a group.</p>

<p>You should take an avalanche course <a href="http://www.avtraining.org" target="_blank">(www.avtraining.org)</a> to learn what avalanche terrain looks like, so when you travel through it, you can utilize appropriate terrain selection for the conditions and your group’s abilities—along with using proper travel techniques to further minimize risk.</p>

<p>During this formative stage of your backcountry experience, err on the side of caution. Take little bites, and you’ll live to eat the whole pie!</p>


<p>Tom Murphy is the executive director of the American Institute for Avalanche Research and Education. Howie Schwartz is a UIAGM mountain guide.</p>

<p>(1) D. Atkins 2000. Human Factors in Avalanche Accidents. 2000 International Snow and Science Workshop. Proceedings 46-51.<br>
(2) World Avalanche Fatalities, 1999-2003. Utah Avalanche Center.</p>

		  ]]></description>
      <pubDate>Thursday, 21 Mar 2007 14:27:00 -0500</pubDate>
    </item>
	
	<item>
      <title>The Big Chill</title>
	  <author>J.D. Dooley</author>
      <link>/tips/Mar07/hypothermia.shtml</link>
      <description><![CDATA[
		<p>Hypothermia is the greatest outdoor danger. Here&rsquo;s how to recognize it and   prevent it from happening to you. </p>
		<p><em>By J. D. Dooley</em></p>
		
		<p>IIn 218 B.C. the brilliant   Carthaginian general and military strategist Hannibal lost about half of his   troops crossing the Alps, and they didn&rsquo;t fall off their elephants. His troops   succumbed to hypothermia. </p>
		<p>Although the term is often   thrown around, hypothermia is a serious medical condition that occurs when the   body&rsquo;s core temperature drops below 95 F. </p>
		<p>Even now, two millennia   hence, hypothermia is still the greatest outdoor danger. While the lack of   oxygen can lead to exhaustion and bad decision-making in the death zone of Mount   Everest, it&rsquo;s hypothermia that will get you in the end. </p>
		<p>Everest is pretty   extreme, so let&rsquo;s look a little closer to home&ndash;&ndash;and sea level. In the White   Mountains of New Hampshire, since 1849, there have been at least 30 deaths   directly linked to hypothermia, including an Appalachian Trail thru-hiker in   September 2004. </p>
		<p>(<a href="/summitview/april06/hometown.shtml">check out more on the awesome White Mountains</a>)</p>
		  <p><strong>Know the Enemy</strong> <br>
		  There are three distinct and progressive stages of hypothermia:</p>
		<p><strong>Mild   hypothermia</strong> occurs when the body temperature drops y 1.8&ndash;3.6 F, or to   between 96.8&ndash;95 F. This is when mild to moderate uncontrolled shivering begins.   Your hands become numb as your blood vessels begin contracting, and you lose the   ability to perform complex tasks. Speech sometimes becomes slurred. <br />
		</p>
		<p><strong>Moderate hypothermia</strong> occurs when the body temperature drops   by 3.6&ndash;7.2 F, or to between 95&ndash;91.4 F. At this point shivering worsens and   coordination becomes greatly impaired. Stumbling may occur, and the afflicted   will grow increasing pale, while cyanosis (the blue tint caused by a lack of   oxygenated blood) appears on the fingers and lips. Blood vessels continue to   contract as the body does all it can to keep the vital organs warm. This stage   of hypothermia can impair reasoning, and individuals often feel very   tired. <br />
		</p>
		<p><strong>Profound hypothermia</strong> occurs when the body temperature drops   below 90 F. At that point, shivering stops and almost all coordination is lost.   Many suffering at this level will make completely irrational decisions and may   even cease to feel cold. Victims often collapse and slip into unconsciousness.   Eventually major organs fail and death occurs. </p>
		<p>That&rsquo;s the bad news. The good news is that nearly all cases are preventable. The easiest way to prevent hypothermia is to never go where it&rsquo;s cold. If that&rsquo;s your intention, you can   stop reading now. If not, we turn to backpacking instructor Mike Boone, who   teaches a course at Appalachian State University in Boone, N.C. </p>
		<p>Appalachian State is in the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains, not only near the Appalachian Trail but adjacent to scores of wilderness areas and national parklands. The area is truly   rife with recreational opportunities and populated by a corps of outdoor   enthusiasts. And like many universities in outstanding settings, Appalachian   State runs an aggressive outdoor program of instruction. </p>
		<p>&ldquo;I was thinking about hypothermia on the most recent class backpacking trip,&rdquo; Boone says. &ldquo;The   conditions were prime&mdash;it was cold, overcast, with something between sleet and   freezing rain falling. It occurred to me that, in large part, surviving in the   wilderness is essentially avoiding hypothermia. </p>
		<p>&ldquo;The keys to survival involve shelter, water, and food. I&rsquo;ve been hypothermic at least three times, and as I think back on the situations, at least one of these important   factors&ndash;&ndash;shelter, water, or food&ndash;&ndash;had been compromised.&rdquo; </p>
		<p>The key to avoiding hypothermia, Boone points out, is to be prepared for changing weather conditions that frequently occur in remote wilderness locations. Anytime you go into the   wilderness, even for a day hike or fast climb, you should have clothing and gear   enough to keep you fed, dry, and warm overnight. </p>
		<p>Even if you avoid hypothermia yourself, you may encounter someone else less fortunate. If so, there are a few basic steps you can take to administer first aid. First, seek   professional medical help. Call for a rescue and get the evacuation ball   rolling, then stay with the person until help arrives. Second, provide the   victim with dry warmth in the form of shelter, clothing, sleeping bag (or   blankets), and a sleeping pad to insulate them from the cold ground. If they are   able to eat and drink, offer them hot food and drink, unless they are suffering   from profound hypothermia. In these cases, it is very important to be gentle   with the victims, as rough movements, such as forcing them to walk, can draw   cold blood into the warmer core, resulting in shock. With profound hypothermia,   focus on maintaining, not raising, the body temperature until professional   medical help arrives. </p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
		<p><em>J.D. Dooley is a writer and photographer who lives in the North Carolina High Country. </em></p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
		<p><em>Posted on March 19, 2007</em></p>
		  ]]></description>
      <pubDate>Monday, 19 Mar 2007 15:00:00 -0500</pubDate>
    </item>	
	
	<item>
      <title>Long Live Your Knees</title>
	  <author>Adam Cox</author>
      <link>/tips/Feb07/longliveknee.shtml</link>
      <description><![CDATA[
		<p> Multi-joint and multi-planar movements help to protect your knees by conditioning them for the way they move in the real world. </p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
		<p>As athletes and outdoor enthusiasts, we are all interested in preventing injuries. Whether you are hiking, biking, skiing, boarding, climbing, or running, the most feared of all injuries is one that affects the knee. Knees are the gatekeepers to the higher ground for people who crave movement and adventure.</p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
		<p>If you wanted to quibble with the Creator, you could actually say the knee is a poorly designed joint. Lacking the bony blocks of the ankle and elbow that prevent excessive movement, the knee is mostly soft tissue stabilized by ligaments, tendons, and muscles way above and below the actual joint. Which leads to the question, how do you strengthen something like that?</p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
		<p>By understanding the knee&rsquo;s structures, you&rsquo;re able to implement strategies to strengthen the muscles intelligently, help the body move more efficiently, and train and facilitate good elasticity and flexibility. Training with multi-planar and multi-joint movements addresses these major issues. If you want to play dynamically, you have to train dynamically. </p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
		<p>Here is my beginner-to-intermediate-level workout designed specifically for strength, injury prevention, and joint integrity.		</p>
		<p><strong>Lunge Warm up</strong>: Distance of 20 ft down and back or 15   each side. </p>
		<br clear="all" />
		<a href="/tips/Feb07/longliveknee.shtml">Click here for Lunge exercises.</a><br clear="all" />
		<a href="/tips/Feb07/Lunges.pdf" target="_blank">Print this Warm Up</a> </p>
		<br clear="all" />
		<p><strong>Squat Workout:</strong>VMO or Vastrus Medialis Oblique is your main internal stabilizer of your Quadriceps. Strengthening this muscle aids in better tracking and will   ease and encourage pain free movement for previously injured knees or recovering knee&rsquo;s. </p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
		<p><a href="/tips/Feb07/longliveknee.shtml">Click here for Squat exercises.</a><br>
		<a href="/tips/Feb07/Squats.pdf" target="_blank">Print this Warm Up</a> </p>
		<br clear="all" />
		<p>If you train only your strengths, you strengthen your weaknesses. Multi-planar movements strengthen the major muscles, but more importantly, they strengthen the smaller stabilizers, tendons, and ligaments. This approach eliminates weak points in the surrounding tissues and movement patterns. </p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
		<p>Multi-joint movements are the best way to gain lower body strength and train the backup systems of the knee joint. These movements maximize as many muscles as possible at the same time or, more simply put, they create strength in numbers and good communication between muscle groups. By combining these two universal philosophies, multi-joint movements train the nervous system and muscles to react and act more efficiently together.</p>
		<p><br />
		  <br />  
		  <strong>Knee Survival Tips:</strong> <br />
		  <br />
		  &bull; The body loves 90 degrees. Don&rsquo;t let your knees go over your toes or behind your ankle. </p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
		<p>&bull; Tight muscles pull on joints. Counteract joint discomfort and stress by stretching and myofascial   release (Foam Roll) </p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
		<p>&bull; Quad to Hamstring   Ratio: if you Quads are a lot stronger then your hamstrings, you are at risk.   Prevent this by training smarter. Squatting super heavy taxes the body. Single   leg squats double the load on the leg and hip muscles without compacting your   spine. This prevents excessive wear and tear, keeping you healthier and out   playing longer. </p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
		<p>&bull; Your reflexive system (involuntary movement) works 5 x faster then when you think about how you   want to move (voluntary movements). The more familiar and efficient the nervous   system is with all the possible movements, the better and more efficient choices   it makes when reacting, thus preventing injuries.<br />
		  <br />  
		  <br />
		  <strong>Adam Cox</strong>, CSCS is a Certified Strength and Conditioning Specialist through the National Strength and Conditioning Association. He is the Fitness Training Director at the Club at the Claremont Resort and Spa in Berkeley, California. </p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
		<p><em>Posted on Mar. 13, 2007.</em></p>
		  ]]></description>
      <pubDate>Tues, 13 Mar 2007 15:00:00 -0500</pubDate>
    </item>	
	
	<item>
      <title>It's All About Process</title>
	  <author>Tom Murphy and Howie Schwartz</author>
      <link>/tips/Feb07/avalanchesafety.shtml</link>
      <description><![CDATA[
	  <p>When it comes to making good decisions about avalanche safety, you need to take   a systematic approach to reinforce sound judgment. </p>
		<p>By Tom Murphy and Howie Schwartz</p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
		<p>What process do you use to make decisions about traveling in avalanche country? Do you have a process? If you don&rsquo;t, you   need one.<br />
		      <br />
	          Avalanche accident investigation has revealed that parties involved in fatal accidents and close calls had simply not looked at the &ldquo;big picture&rdquo;<a href="#sdfootnote1sym" name="sdfootnote1anc" id="sdfootnote1anc" charindex="875">(1)</a>. They had fallen into the trap of believing that a sunshiny day in the backcountry is all about fun, friends, powder; what could go possibly go wrong with such a combination? <br />
		      <br />
		  Usually,   nothing does go wrong. The fact is that avalanche fatalities are fairly rare events. Approximately 30 people a year die in avalanche accidents in the United States in a year<a href="#sdfootnote2sym" name="sdfootnote2anc" id="sdfootnote2anc" charindex="1234">(2)</a>. </p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
		<p>When an accident doesn&rsquo;t involve a close friend or a loved one, it&rsquo;s easy to forget about it, assume an accident won&rsquo;t happen to us, and become complacent. That&rsquo;s when you&rsquo;re playing Russian roulette, spinning the chamber and pulling the trigger every time you travel in the backcountry without a plan. </p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
		<p>Over the next few months, and starting again next fall, EPIC will feature the   all-important decision-making process that should guide your backcountry snow travel. We&rsquo;ll supply you with some   basic decision-making tools to reduce your uncertainty in avalanche terrain. Let&rsquo;s start with that critical decision-making framework.</p>
		 <p>Backcountry decision-making is much more than whether or   not to ski or ride a slope. It is a continuous cascade of questions and thought processes that starts before the trip begins and constantly affects your actions until the trip ends. Your most critical decisions in the backcountry fall into two categories: terrain selection and travel techniques. </p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
		<p><strong>Terrain selections</strong> are the actions that determine <strong>where we go</strong>. These selections are our primary decision-making tool, and are made on macro-, meso-, and </p>
		
		<p><strong>Micro-Scales.</strong> An example of macro-scale terrain selection is when we choose to   ski White Mountain instead of Black Mountain. A meso-scale   example would be to ski the North Ridge of White Mountain instead of the Northeast Bowl. Micro-scale terrain selection might be a decision to avoid steep   convex rollovers. </p>
		<p>&nbsp;</p>
		<p>Travel techniques determine how we   go</strong>. Once you make terrain-selection decisions, you can further reduce your   exposure to risk by using appropriate travel techniques. Travel techniques that   you might be familiar with are spreading out, going one at time, or moving   quickly through terrain. Techniques must be evaluated on a case-by-case basis. A   technique that works well in one situation may only make matters worse in   another. <strong>It is important never to use travel techniques to   justify otherwise inappropriate terrain-selection decisions.</strong> How you travel   is secondary to proper terrain selection. <br />
		  <br />
		  <br />
		  <strong>Factors of Terrain Selection</strong> </p>
		<p><br />
		  Good terrain selection results from three decision-making components: trip planning and preparation, observations of avalanche danger evidence, and human   factors: <br />
		  <br />
		</p>
		<p>&bull; <strong>Trip planning and preparation: </strong>Set yourself up for good decision-making by choosing appropriate objectives and realistic safer alternatives before the trip begins. Much of the macro-, meso-, and even micro-scale terrain selection can be done in the trip-planning phase. Planning ensures that you know when you will arrive at a given destination and facilitates navigation in poor visibility. Preparation makes sure your group is prepared to manage a dangerous situation, if things go wrong and an accident occurs. Trip planning and preparation helps   prevent accidents in the first place, and the process encompasses the first, and often most critical decision-making we do on a backcountry tour. </p>
		<p>&bull; <strong>Observations of avalanche danger factors: </strong>Before actual terrain selection can occur, even at the planning phase, you must make and analyze observations. We need to make these observations in three data-class categories&mdash;avalanche activity, snowpack, and weather. Learn to assess when your observations may indicate avalanche danger. The AIARE Observation Checklist can help with this process. Before the start of a trip, it is important to get a bulletin from an avalanche information center, <a href="http://www.avalanche.org/">www.avalanche.org</a>, if possible. Avalanche   bulletins contain information from all the data classes and also help interpret these observations. Once in the backcountry, actively and constantly observe and gather   your own information from the three data classes. The reliability of decisions depends on the quality and quantity of observations. Your ability to compare your own information to an avalanche bulletin&rsquo;s data can paint an accurate   picture of current avalanche danger where you plan to travel. </p>
		<p>&bull; <strong>Human factors: </strong>Also, before terrain selection can occur, be sure to evaluate your group and yourself. Learn to recognize how good terrain selection is influenced by the   following questions: Who is coming? What are their levels of experience, skill, fitness, and ability? How experienced are they with avalanche rescue training   and practice? What other group or individual human factors may affect your ability to make good decisions? Why are we all going on the trip? The answers to these questions affect terrain selection on all scales in both the planning and   preparation phase and constantly throughout a tour. </p>
		<p>The decision-making described above is represented graphically below. Please note that solid double arrows show the interconnectedness of all of these components, and that all these components   should be continuously monitored throughout a tour. A change in any area directly affects terrain-selection decisions. The dashed arrow to travel techniques is a reminder that these never override terrain-selection decisions&mdash;they only further reduce exposure to risk once a group makes a terrain selection. </p>

		<p><strong>Decision-Making Framework</strong><br />  
		  <br />
		  This visual   decision-making framework is a reminder of how to examine, choose, and carry out options in the backcountry. Let&rsquo;s briefly review the material and amplify some specifics. <br />  
		  <br />  
		  <strong>Planning and Preparation</strong> <br />
		  </p>
		<p>&bull; <strong>Route options :</strong> Have appropriate objectives and options in place, and discuss them prior to the trip. Have your ideal, safer, and safest trip options ready.  </p>
		<p>&bull; <strong>Time plan: </strong>Evaluate time required to get to various points on your tour to complete your objective. Assess hazards that increase with time, and adjust your start time   accordingly. Build in turnaround times, if necessary.  </p>
		<p>&bull; <strong>Rescue plans: </strong>Discuss rescue among your group. Discuss who has training in rescue and who doesn&rsquo;t.  <br />
		  <br />
		&bull; <strong>Emergency gear: </strong>Beacon, shovel, probe, cell phone, GPS, map and compass, radios, bivy sack, headlamp, and basic winter touring gear. Consider avalung and ABS. (Double-check gear at trailhead; be sure you have extra   batteries.)  </p>
		<p><strong><br />
		  Observations</strong> <br />
		</p>
		<p>&bull; Obtain an avalanche bulletin.<br /> 
		  <em><strong><br />
		</strong></em>&bull; Use the AIARE Observation Checklist. Are there signs of instability?<br />
		<br />
		&bull; Avalanche activity<br />
		<br />
		&bull; Snowpack<br /> 
		<br />
		&bull; Weather<br />
		<br />
		   &bull; The quality and quantity of your observation is critical.<br /> 
		   <br />
		   &bull; The less confidence you have in your observations, the more confidence you need to have in your margin of safety, i.e., conservative terrain selection.</p>
		<p><strong><br />
		  Human Factors</strong> <br />
		  </p>
		<p>&bull; Who&rsquo;s going?   What are their experience, skill, and fitness levels and previous rescue training? Are all those elements appropriate for the trip? <em><strong><br />
		  <br />
		</strong></em>&bull; What&rsquo;s the   group&rsquo;s ability to communicate? Is this a leaderless group? Is there a dictator in charge? Groups need to become more like a team by sharing information,   allowing everyone a voice, and showing concern. <br /> 
		<br />
		&bull; Why are you   going on the trip? Can the goal of returning safely at all costs override the   day&rsquo;s objective? Every group needs to discuss and agree upon this simple but   all-important ground rule. </p>
		<p><br />  
		  <strong>Terrain Selection</strong><br /> 
		  &bull; <strong>Is the terrain appropriate for the group and the conditions?</p>
		<p><br />  
		  <strong>Travel Techniques</strong><br />
          &bull; <strong>How do we further minimize the risk of a terrain-selection   decision?<br />
		  If you are looking for a multiple-day avalanche course in your area, go to <a href="http://www.avtraining.org" target="_blank"><u>www.avtraining.org</u></a>.
		  </p>
		<p>Tom Murphy is the executive director of the American Institute for Avalanche Research and Education. Howie Schwartz is a UIAGM mountain guide. </p>
          <p>(1) D. Atkins 2000. Human Factors in Avalanche Accidents. 2000 International Snow and Science Workshop. Proceedings 46-51.</p>
		  </div>
		<div>
          <p>(2) World Avalanche Fatalities, 1999-2003. Utah Avalanche Center.</p>
		  ]]></description>
      <pubDate>Wed, 28 Feb 2007 12:30:00 -0500</pubDate>
    </item>	
	
	
	<item>
      <title>The ABCs of Heli</title>
	  <author>Leslie Woit</author>
      <link>/articles/feb07/heli01.shtml</link>
	  <pubDate>Thur, 22 Feb 2007 18:30:00 -0500</pubDate>
      <description><![CDATA[
	  <p><i>By Leslie Woit</i></p>
		  <p>We crawl before we walk, we walk before we run&mdash;but what do we need to know before we go heliskiing? Start with these answers. </p>
		  <p>&nbsp;</p>
		  <h4>1. Am I good enough?</h4>
		   <p>In a word: probably. Thanks to the fat-ski revolution, in little more than a decade heliskiing has changed from fast and dirty to slick and swishy. The minimum requirement is to be a strong, intermediate, parallel skier, able to handle variable ungroomed snow and execute kick turns on steep slopes. You also need to be in decent physical condition, but that hurdle should be all the motivation you need to switch off the poker channel and do something about it. </p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <h4>2. When is the best time to go?</h4>
		   <p>Typically, December and January offer more tree skiing than high alpine possibilities, which can be a concern for boarders. By February and March the glaciers are accessible and both the runs and the days are longer.&nbsp; </p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <h4>3. How many skiers are in a group? </h4>
		   <p>Usually there are 10-11 in the heli (four or five skiers in a small helicopter) or around 12 in the cat, plus one or two guides in each group, depending on the size of helicopter/cat and the company. </p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <h4>4. How many groups ski out of one helicopter/cat? </h4>
		   <p>For helis, this varies from one group per helicopter (known as a Private), to two, three, or four groups lifted with one helicopter. Three and four groups are more common; any more and you'll be waiting a long time between runs. Most cat ops offer one snowcat per group. Powder Cowboy offers an extra-fast, two-cat-for-one-group arrangement. </p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <h4>5. How many runs would I do in a day?</h4>
		   <p>Between 5 and12 runs in a heli is to be expected, with the guide and pilot searching for the best terrain and conditions for each. Catskiing normally features more, shorter runs&mdash;maybe 10&ndash;15 in a day.</p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <h4>6. How can I really blow my budget?</h4>
		   <p>The set menu for a week at a Canadian heliski outfit will ding you between $5,000&ndash;$10,000 CDN (not including airfare). But if you're looking to seriously bulk out your expense account chits, you should consider ordering a la carte&mdash;a Private helicopter. This is also the best way to ensure you and your group are compatible, fast or slow. Rather than the conventional arrangement of 3&ndash;4 groups flying out of the same machine, you will have your own helicopter, pilot, and guide to go as fast or slow as you wish. Offered at many operators, privates start at around $12,000 CDN a week per person. </p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>

		   <p>Where to Go?</p>
		   <p>There are more than 40 helicopter and snowcat operations in Canada alone. Here are a few favorites for perfect powder:</p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <a name="Wasatch"></a>
		   <p><strong>In Utah:</strong></p>
		   <p><strong>Wasatch Powderbird Guides</strong><br />
		     1-800-974-4354 / <a href="http://www.powderbird.com/" target="_blank"><u>www.powderbird.com</u></a><br />
		     Flying into Utah&rsquo;s &ldquo;Greatest Snow on Earth&rdquo; since 1973.</p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <a name="Island"></a>
		   <p><strong>In British Columbia:</strong></p>
		   <p><strong>Island Lake Lodge</strong><br />
		     1-888-422-8754 / <a href="http://www.islandlakeresorts.com" target="_blank"><u>www.islandlakeresorts.com</u></a> <br />
		     A stone&rsquo;s throw from Fernie, British Columbia, with stunning new lodge plunked in great snow hole.</p>
			 <a name="Mica"></a>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <p><strong>Mica Heliskiing</strong><br />
1-877-837-6191 / <a href="http://www.micaheli.com" target="_blank"><u>www.micaheli.com</u></a><br />
Mica Heliskiing runs two or three groups of four in the A-Star
		     helicopter - just you, three friends, your guide and a million acres all
	        to yourselves!</p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <a name="Powder"></a>
		   <p><strong>Powder Cowboy</strong><br />
		     1-888-4CATSKI (888.422.8754) / <a href="http://www.powdercowboy.com" target="_blank"><u>www.powdercowboy.com</u></a><br />
	        Less than an hour from Fernie, British Columbia, with some day skiing available. </p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <a name="Selkirk"></a>
		   <p><strong>Selkirk Wilderness</strong><br />
		     1-800-799-3499 / <a href="http://www.selkirkwilderness.com" target="_blank"><u>www.selkirkwilderness.com</u></a> <br />
		     The original cat operation, based in the Selkirk Mountains since 1975. </p>
			 <a name="Canadian"></a>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <p><strong>Canadian Mountain Holidays</strong><br />
		     1-800-661-0252 / <a href="http://www.cmhski.com" target="_blank"><u>www.cmhski.com</u></a> <br />
		     CMH is a three-letter acronym that stands for the best heliskiing in the world. Each lodge hosts a maximum of 44 guests in intimate surroundings; a few lodges offer only Privates and many are fly-in.</p>
			 <a name="Whistler"></a>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <p><strong>Whistler Heliskiing</strong><br />
		     1-888-435-4754 / <a href="http://www.whistlerheliskiing.com" target="_blank"><u>www.whistlerheliskiing.com</u></a> <br />
		     Combine a heli-day here with your week in Whistler, British Columbia. Operating since 1981, Whistler offers heliskiing for blue runners and beyond.</p>
			 
		    <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <p>For more information on Canadian operators, see <a href="http://www.helicatcanada.com/" target="_blank"><u>www.helicatcanada.com</u></a></p>]]></description>
      
    </item>	
	
	<item>
      <title>Go To Heli</title>
	  <author>Leslie Woit</author>
      <link>/articles/feb07/heli02.shtml</link>
      <description><![CDATA[
	  <p><em>By Leslie Woit</em></p>
		  <p>Many skiers say heliskiing and catskiing are the ultimate backcountry   adventures. So what&rsquo;s so special about remote lodges and rotor wash anyway?</p>		  
		  <p>Peppery pinots, &rsquo;luxe log cabins&mdash;and   deep, succulent, in-your-face powder. Ask 10 skiers or boarders about their No. 1 snow-based fantasy, and nine of them will want to go helicopter skiing. </p>
		   <p>Badly. </p>
		   <p>The ultimate winter camp for   grown-ups, the catered heliskiing experience stretches all five senses to capacity. The scent of the jet fuel. The beat of the rotor blades. The tactile arc of a fat ski through powder. Flakes flying out your mouth and&mdash;as is fast becoming an industry standard&mdash;the sight of an artfully prepared desert trolley at the end of an evening&rsquo;s fabulous dinner. As sporting sensations go, it&rsquo;s as seriously adrenaline-, endorphin-, and calorie-rich as they come. </p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <p>So What's its Unique Selling Proposition?</p>
		   <p>Location, location, location&mdash;and the means to reach it. Approximately 20 heli-operators whiz</p>
		   <p> about the glaciated   peaks and famed tree skiing of British Columbia alone, a powder mecca that receives around 40 feet of light, dry snow each year. Over the decades, a sophisticated snow safety and professional guiding system has been developed to minimize risk and give guests an experience that requires their cooperation but&mdash;unlike independent backcountry travel&mdash;doesn&rsquo;t ask them to think too much. The heliskier&rsquo;s refrain? Show me the powder. </p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <p>For example, <a href="http://www.micaheli.com/" target="_blank" title="Mica Heliskiing- 100% small-group heliskiing in Canada">Mica Heliskiing</a>, a popular operator in British Columbia, has access to more than one million acres of powder-rich terrain on the Western slope of the Rocky Mountains. The variety of its terrain means that Mica can cater to skiers of all levels from beginner powder skiers to experts looking for a first descent. </p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <p>Another well-known operator in British Columbia is <a href="http://www.canadianmountainholidays.com/ski/" target="_blank" title="Canadian Mountain Holiday">CMH</a>. As the first and largest heliski operation in the world, it has 12 alpine lodges sprinkled across the heights of the province. Its impressive growth is directly linked with the fat-ski revolution.</p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   
		   <p>&quot;Now that everyone is used to fat skis, nobody would last a week on the old skis anymore,&quot; explains a guide at <a href="http://www.canadianmountainholidays.com/ski/" target="_blank"><u>CMH</u></a>   Gothics. &quot;Maybe not even me.&quot; </p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <p>Hard on the heels of heliskiing is snowcat skiing. Sometimes called its poorer cousin, catskiing can be significantly less expensive, yet offers the same easy access to the backcountry   via the more relaxed pace of a modified snowcat. </p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <p>&ldquo;You feel like you&rsquo;re camping in a very luxurious way here,&rdquo; says one guest at <a href="http://www.islandlakeresorts.com/" target="_blank"><u>Island Lake Lodge</u></a>, just outside   Fernie British Columbia, whose land comprises&nbsp;7,000 skiable acres of prime   Lizard Range terrain with 400 inches of snowfall per year dumped on it. &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t have to worry about getting first tracks&mdash;coming here takes the pressure off.&rdquo; </p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <p>Pressure&mdash;or its absence&mdash;is one of the biggest differences people cite between catskiing and heliskiing. As one long-time heliskier rather harshly puts it: &ldquo;Helicopters are noisy and uncomfortable. I can see why people want to go catskiing.&rdquo; </p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <p>Fast or slow, ski or board, cat or heli, these slick and professional operations rarely fail to deliver the goods.  &ldquo;It beats walking,&rdquo; is an often heard understatement. Though the most serious   &ldquo;earn your turns&rdquo; types among us&mdash;that mysterious 10th guy in the room&mdash;would surely beg to differ. </p>
		   <p>&nbsp;</p>
		   <p><em>Posted on February 22, 2007 </em></p>]]></description>
      <pubDate>Thur, 22 Feb 2007 18:35:00 -0500</pubDate>
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      <title>Share Your EPIC Shot with the pacecommunications.com Community</title>
      <link>/myepicshot.php</link>
      <description><![CDATA[
	  <p>Visit pacecommunications.com to submit your best EPIC Shot. We plan to publish select photos on EPIC and yours could be one of them.</p>]]></description>
      <pubDate>Wed, 14 Feb 2007 18:03:00 -0500</pubDate>
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      <title>Epic Shot: Mount Everest</title>
	  <author>Jimmy Chin</author>
      <link>/articles/feb07/epicshot.shtml</link>
      <description><![CDATA[
	  <i><b><p>By Jimmy Chin</p></b></i>

<p>At approximately 11:15 in the morning on October 18, 2006, I stepped into my ski bindings at 29,035 feet. I had just finished shooting Kit DesLauriers and her husband Rob skiing off the summit of Mount Everest. Kit had just become the first person to ski from all of the Seven Summits.</p>

<p>I stood alone for a moment, ski tips sticking out from the summit, pointing to the South. It had been over a month and a half since I left my sanctuary in Victor, Idaho. Every day since I had left home, I had been working my way toward the very spot where I stood. It's a bit of travel and a hike to get to the summit of Mount Everest, and after all that work, I was finally about to begin my journey home.</p>

<p>There were a few minor obstacles between Victor and me, but nothing to get worked up about. I just needed to dump some elevation one jump turn at a time, just the way I’d done thousands, probably hundreds of thousands of times before. Most of those turns were done at a slightly lower elevation, but I knew the movement would feel familiar once I started.</p>

<p>I gazed at the surrounding peaks, took a deep breath and pushed off. After scraping a few turns down the summit ridge, I passed Pasang Tenzing and Mingma Ongel, two of our Sherpa friends, on their way down. We waved to each other. As I skied down a couple hundred more feet and came around a steep corner, I could see Rob and Kit preparing to rappel the Hillary Step.</p>

<p>We had debated for months whether or not the Hillary Step could be skied. It was all speculation. When we finally got to see it up close on our way up, we knew that it would not be possible in the conditions we were given this year. The Step this season was a 40-foot climb of rock and snow. If we had been anywhere else besidesa 28,500-foot summit ridge on Mount Everest, I think Rob would have jumped it. Rob may be the best skier I have ever skied with.</p>

<p>I sideslipped slowly to a stop behind Kit and set my edges. The ridge is fairly narrow at the Hillary Step. It was a stunning place to be standing in skis. A few feet to Kit's left were 9,000 vertical feet of exposure down the Kangshung Face; to her right were steep exposed rocks spilling thousands of feet down the Southwest Face. I looked out at Lhotse with storm clouds brewing behind it. I could see the knife-edge ridge going toward the South Summit. It was going to be tricky skiing. I pulled off my gloves and pulled out my camera. I could see it all fall into place. I looked through the viewfinder and snapped two frames. I put the camera away. I needed to stay focused on making my way back to Idaho.</p>

<p>I took a lot of photos on our Everest expedition, but this one is my favorite. It was an EPIC moment for all of us&mdash;one that none of us will ever forget.</p></i>
<i><p>Posted on Feb. 14, 2007</p>
</i>
<p><a href="http://www.thenorthface.com/na/athletes/athletes-JC.html">Want to learn more about Jimmy?</a></p>]]></description>
      <pubDate>Wed, 14 Feb 2007 17:30:00 -0500</pubDate>
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      <title>AT Bindings: Free-heels Pedal Powder Hounds Out-of-Bounds</title>
	  <author>Peter Kray</author>
      <link>/gear/jan07/atbindings.shtml</link>
      <description><![CDATA[<p>By Peter Kray</p>
		 <p>They stand on the summit of Mount Everest like superheroes preparing to soar back to the valley below. Like bold poachers, they cross the boundary gates right in front of the ski patrol. And as the snow falls fast and light, they park their cars beside the backcountry, slap skins on their skis, and stride as if on escalators up into the bare, white bowls.</p>
		<p>They are the AT generation, the wolf pack of powder hounds, and there is no place that they can&rsquo;t go.</p>
		<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know anyone that just skis inbounds anymore,&#8221; says extreme skier Billy Poole. &#8220;People ride the chairs when it&#8217;s storming and then go out of bounds when the snow settles.&#8221;</p>
		
		<p>With cliff-hucking photos in <em>POWDER Magazine</em> and dreamy backcountry ski segments in <a href="http://www.winkincproductions.com/" target="_blank" title="Action and Adventure Sports Productions"><u>Wink Inc, Productions</u></a>&rsquo; ski film <em>Respect</em>, Poole is a high-profile prospector skiing at the frontier of winter&rsquo;s White Gold Rush. As high-speed chairlifts and snowboard-sized fat skis make the traditional powder day more like the &ldquo;powder hour&rdquo; at ski resorts, this new breed of shredders has begun pushing past the boundary rope in search of white virgin thrills.</p>
		<p>&ldquo;Everyone dreams of the blank slope,&rdquo; says Patrick Ortlieb, Olympic Downhill gold medalist in the 1992 Olympic Winter Games in Albertville, France. &ldquo;Everyone wants to ski a run that is theirs alone.&rdquo;</p>
		<p>An inveterate powder hound since he retired from racing, Ortlieb spends his winters hiking the high, bare slopes above Lech, Austria, where his family owns a hotel. Trading meticulously groomed racecourses, crash nets, and screaming throngs of fans for wind-buffed steeps, ravens, and rocks, he has also traded his racing bindings for Alpine Touring (AT) bindings to speed him into the hills.</p>
		<p>&ldquo;The lifts,&rdquo; he says, &ldquo;can only take you so far. After a point, you have to go alone.&rdquo;</p>
		<p>Also called randonnee, French for &ldquo;to walk,&rdquo; (or French for &ldquo;can&rsquo;t tele,&rdquo; jokes a T-shirt from K2 Skis), AT has changed the rules of powder skiing in North America. With AT bindings that feature a releasable heel, effectively turning their bindings into pedals for uphill travel, and skins stuck to their skis so they can climb, AT skiers can literally &ldquo;hunt&rdquo; the snow.</p>
		
		
		<p>When <a href="../../expeditions/nov06/sevenSkiing.shtml" title="Skiing the 7 Summits on an Ember of a Dream"><u>Kit DesLauriers</u></a> became the first American and the first woman to ski from the summit of Everest on October 18, she got down on a lightweight pair of stock TLT Comfort Bindings ($549.95, <a href="http://www.life-link.com" target="_blank"><u>life-link.com</u></a>) from Dynafit. Built for long treks deep into the <a href="../../articles/jan07/backcountry.shtml" title="Where to Really Get Away From It All"><u>backcountry</u></a>, these lightweight bindings are designed for distance and descent, with low-profile toe- and heel-pieces that clip into pre-fabricated holes in an AT skier&rsquo;s boot much like a clip-less bicycle pedal.</p>
		<p>In the United States, Dynafit shares the blossoming AT market with other European-based companies such as Fritschi Diamir, Naxo, and Silvretta. With their respective Freeride Plus ($425, <a href="http://www.bdel.com" target="_blank"><u>bdel.com</u></a>), Naxo NX21 Freeskiing ($399.95, <a href="http://www.bcexp.com" target="_blank"><u>bcexp.com</u></a>), and Silveretta Pure Freeride ($419.95, <a href="http://www.backcountry.com"><u>backcountry.com</u></a>), all three offer traditional alpine-styled bindings with climbing bars and releasable heels for touring, as well as the durability to withstand both the rigors of in-bounds moguls and big cliff drops in the backcountry.</p>
		<p>Unlike most telemark bindings, AT bindings also offer full releasability. In an avalanche, that means a skier has a better chance of ditching his skis and &ldquo;swimming&rdquo; the snow, rather than having his gear anchor him beneath the slide like a stone. </p>
		<p>&ldquo;Go someplace like Bozeman and I bet it&rsquo;s almost 50-50 if you compare the guys on traditional alpine skis to the guys on AT and telemark who can go for a tour,&rdquo; says Poole. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re also getting a lot of kids who roll into the ski towns and, instead of buying passes, buy the AT gear and spend the whole season hiking for turns.&rdquo;</p>
		
		<p>At ski areas all over Colorado, Montana, Utah, and Wyoming, area operators and the U.S. Forest Service are making it even easier to access the goods for the AT wolf packers. With hike-to terrain in-bounds at areas like Aspen Highlands and Monarch Mountain, as well as open-gate access to the wild snow beyond the ski area boundaries, it&rsquo;s becoming commonplace for hard-charging skiers to go for lift-assisted &ldquo;tours.&rdquo;</p>
		
		<p>&ldquo;Stand in the tramline at Snowbird in the morning, and you&rsquo;ll see all these guys with packs on and AT bindings on their fat skis,&rdquo; says Nathan Rafferty, president of Ski Utah. &ldquo;By the afternoon, those guys are off in the backcountry somewhere.&rdquo;</p>
		<p>To highlight Utah skiing on both sides of the boundary, Ski Utah runs &ldquo;<a href="http://www.skiutah.com/interconnect/" target="_blank" title="Experience Utah's Wasatch backcountry by interconnecting six resorts in one day."><u>The Interconnect</u></a>,&rdquo; a daylong tour between Utah ski areas, which makes stops at and between four to six Utah resorts per tour. </p>
		<p>&ldquo;It used to be that you were either a backcountry skier or a resort skier, but with the equipment now you can go anywhere you want to,&rdquo; says Rafferty. &ldquo;Now the backcountry is so much more accessible it&rsquo;s just become another option. It&rsquo;s really an extension of the skiing experience, taking it in the direction that I think the sport should naturally go.&rdquo;</p>
		<p>Pete Kray writes about epic outdoor adventures from Sante Fe, New Mexico.</p>
		 <p>Posted on Feb 6, 2007</p></i>]]></description>
      <pubDate>Wed, 7 Feb 2007 11:00:00 -0500</pubDate>
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    <item>
      <title>How to Ramp Up Your Winter</title>
	  <author>Sage Cattabriga-Alosa</author>
      <link>/articles/jan07/kicker.shtml</link>
      <description><![CDATA[
	  <p>By Sage Cattabriga-Alosa</p>
		 <p><strong>Building a first-class kicker requires both know-how and labor, but the payoff comes in the form of big air.</strong></p>
		 <p>Here&rsquo;s a six-step approach to building a kick-ass kicker:</p>
		 <h4>1. Safety First </h4>
		 <p>The first step to building a great jump is finding the right terrain. And unfortunately, perfect kicker spots also happen to be prime avalanche slopes. Before you go traipsing around in the backcountry, check with local avalanche forecast centers and, most importantly, <a href="/articles/oct06/whitewave.shtml" title="Avalanche Awareness Resources, Click for details."><u>educate yourself</u></a> in backcountry travel procedures. Take responsibility for your actions, go with people who know, take an avalanche course, and be wise to local conditions. </p>
		 <h4>2. Pick the Spot </h4>
		 <p>You want to look for a spot that has a fairly steep in-run, a short flat section where the kicker will sit, and a good long steep landing. The in-run needs to be long enough to generate a good amount of speed. Optimal kicker terrain will have a nice flat spot for you to build your jump. This flat spot also helps minimize the compression from steeps to kick. The jump should be placed an appropriate distance from the landing. If you want to jump 40 feet, place the jump about 30 to 40 feet from the knuckle where the flat goes back to the steeps. This way you jump over the flats and land just after it gets steep. </p>
		 <h4>3. Dig &amp; Pack </h4>
		 <p>Now that you know where you are going to build your kicker, it&rsquo;s time to start digging! The type of snow you&rsquo;re working with will determine how much snow you need to move. Light, dry Utah-type snow requires lots of volume, but if you have wet, heavy snow it tends to pile up a lot faster. Pile snow so that you get a mound about 10 to 15 feet wide, about 15 feet long and about 4 to 5 feet high. After you have a big pile, take your skis, or board, and begin packing the snow in a wedge shape. Taper it so that it gradually slopes up from flat to steep. This is still the rough stage of construction, so don&rsquo;t spend too much time buffing out the jump just yet. </p>
		 <h4>4. Dig &amp; Pack Again </h4>
		 <p>The initial packing of the jump usually diminishes the 5-foot pile by several feet, depending on the snow type&mdash;light powder will whittle down to nothing, wet pow will compress only a little. Now it&rsquo;s time to add more snow&mdash;back to digging! Pile on more snow until you get close to the original height, and repeat until the jump is the size you want while packed. </p>
		 <h4>5. Shape the Jump </h4>
		 <p>Time to fine-tune&mdash;this is where the jump really takes shape. Now you need to decide what type of kick you want to put on the jump&mdash;the steeper the angle, the higher the jump will send you. If you want to travel farther and less high, slacken the angle of the lip. I like jumps that have about a 40-degree angle and are slightly curved. This configuration will send you nicely into the air and won&rsquo;t be too abrupt, and you can hit it at faster speeds. Too steep an angle and too much speed will result in a kick that is hard to handle. </p>
		 <h4>6. Smooth the Way </h4>
		   Finally, smooth the in-run, packing it out with skis or board. You don&rsquo;t want an abrupt change right before the jump, so take care in making the in-run right. Once the lip and in-run are dialed, it&rsquo;s time to get hiking and start jumping. Enjoy!</p>
		 <p><a href="http://www.thenorthface.com/na/athletes/athletes-SCA.html" target="_blank"><u>Sage Cattrabriga-Alosa</u></a> is one of the best-known skiers in the ski film industry. He specializes in backcountry gap jumps, skiing big-mountain lines and combining tricks with cliff drops. </p>
Posted on Jan. 31, 2007</p></i>]]></description>
      <pubDate>Wed, 31 Jan 2007 12:00:00 -0500</pubDate>
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	<item>
      <title>The White Wave</title>
	  <author>Kurt Repanshek</author>
      <link>/articles/oct06/whitewave.shtml</link>
      <description><![CDATA[

<i><b><p>By Kurt Repanshek</p></b></i>

<p>It sounds guttural, like the throaty roar of an accelerating jet bouncing around the inside of your skull. Or, if massive slabs break off to start the avalanche, the cascading roll of snow reverberates like thunder tumbling off the mountains.</p>
 
<p>As the rising white wave slams through glades, snapping trees and pinballing boulders downhill, the cacophonic surge of the crumpled mountainside damn well sounds like the world crashing down upon you. Regardless of your interpretation, it’s a sound you want to recall—rather than have it be the last you ever hear.
</p> 
<p>To that end—how’s your avalanche training? All it takes are powerful legs and sound lungs to get into the backcountry. But can you safely return with something to talk about over beers?</p>
 
<p>“If you don’t know how to save your buddy, or at least find your buddy in the simplest scenario, you really shouldn’t be out there,” says Jim Conway, a snow safety expert and lead guide for Jackson, Wyoming–based Teton Gravity Research, perhaps the world’s leading backcountry film production house.</p>
 
 
<p>Conway should know. He’s OKed the routes for some of the world’s top skiers, snowboarders and climbers as they worked on TGR productions. Over the years, he’s also survived three slides with his limbs intact, thanks to reflexes and coolheadedness honed through decades of training and preparation. And a good measure of luck.</p>
 
<p>Live long enough and play hard enough in the mountains and you’re bound to come across an avalanche or two. That’s why avalanche preparedness is mandatory for backcountry travelers.</p>
 
<p>“We don’t even think you should go into the backcountry unless you know rudimentary rescue skills,” says Conway.</p>
 
<p>During the winter of 2005–06, U.S. avalanches killed 24 backcountry skiers, snowboarders, snowshoers, and snowmobilers. That total is down slightly from the 28 recorded the previous winter and shy of the record 35 killed during 2001–02. Still, it’s a number you don’t want to contribute to. If the victims had had better training and the latest backcountry gear, all those numbers would surely have been lower.</p>
 
<p>“Gear and technology combined far outpaces people’s avalanche awareness and avalanche skills,” says Craig Gordon, a forecaster with the U.S. Forest Service Utah Avalanche Center. “The equipment probably gets folks into terrain that years ago it would have taken [them] a number of years to even have entertained going into. …  And what we’re finding more and more is a lot of folks who are killed in avalanches don’t have the basic rescue equipment, and don’t have avalanche beacons and probes.”</p>
 
<p>While heading out quick, light, and fast works in some sports, it’s not the answer for negotiating Utah’s Wasatch Range or Alaska’s Chugach Mountains, two steep, snow-heavy places where Conway likes to play. Unfortunately, with the advent of plastic telemark boots, stouter bindings, and lighter, fatter skis, as well as more powerful snowmobiles for those who favor that backcountry transportation, “you don’t have to be an expert in your sport to get into avalanche terrain,” Gordon points out.</p>
 
<p>“What we’re finding is that more and more people are skiing or boarding experts, but not experts in the backcountry and certainly not experts with snow and avalanches. Those are the folks who are getting caught,” he adds somberly.</p>
 
<p>Is that really surprising? With the ready availability and relative affordability of the latest backcountry gear, including avalanche beacons, probes, shovels and even the AvaLung device that allows you to breathe when buried under tons of snow (as long as you haven’t been strained through trees or a boulder field, or tossed off a cliff), it’s easy to buy all the courage you think you’ll need. But courage alone can’t assess danger.</p>
 
<p>And really, with easy access to avalanche training courses across the country, there’s no excuse for heading into the high country minus the savvy to recognize dangerous conditions. While avalanche centers (which you can find by visiting www.avalanche.org) offer free introductory courses, your life is probably worth the $450-or-so cost of a multiday course if you’re planning to venture into the avalanche zone.</p>
 
<p>“The Level 1 course will actually teach you how to begin to evaluate snowpack, and it will go into more depth on the rescue part of it,” explains Conway. “It’ll give you some solid route-finding skills, things that there just isn’t time to do in a short course. A short course just gives you an overview of that stuff and kind of tells you what you need to do, but not enough detail for someone to really go out in anything but low to low-moderate hazard days.</p>
 
<p>While it’s easy to memorize the red flags of avalanche danger (see the sidebar), sometimes we dupe ourselves by falling into one of four psychological traps that even experienced backcountry users are susceptible to.</p>
 
<p>“The first one is ‘familiarity,’” Conway says. “You get accustomed to riding the slope all the time, and you tend to maybe not make the evaluations you need to just because you’re so familiar with it. And then another one is ‘commitment.’ That’s something I deal with a lot when dealing with the pros. You know, ‘My whole career is riding on this day; I need to do some stuff.’”
 </p>

<p>“‘Summit fever’ would be in that category. Somebody has just hiked all day to get to something they’ve been looking at for years. The tendency is to maybe overlook or ignore some of the red flags telling them that maybe this isn’t the day to do it.”</p>
 
<p>A third trap is what Conway calls “social-proof.” You’ve seen others ski a monster bowl that really should be avoided, yet, because someone else has, you do, too. Such a case played out near The Canyons Resort in Park City, Utah, in 2004 when a slide in Dutch Draw—a steep, deliciously tempting bowl adjacent to the resort on U.S. Forest Service land—killed a young, experienced Idaho man when it slammed him mercilessly into a stand of trees.
 </p>
<p>“He actually had avalanche training and knew better and knew he didn’t have the right gear, but they’d see people just one after another making tracks on that face,” recalls Conway. “Their plan was not to go touring at all, the hazard was too high that day. … But what happened was every time they’d ride up the lift they’d see another set of tracks on that face, and finally they said, ‘Well, everybody else has done it, it must be good to do.’”</p>
 
<p>It wasn’t.</p>
 
<p>A fourth trap is “scarcity.” There hasn’t been fresh snow in weeks, so you go in search of whatever you can find … and in the process let down your guard.
 </p>
<p>While Conway has had three close calls, his pilgrimages into the backcountry every winter are motivated by something no doubt shared by countless others.</p>
 
<p>“How could I not? It’s what I do,” he says simply. “I actually don’t like the fear part of it. If we could take avalanches out of the picture, it would be a better sport to me. But that’s what it is. Mostly, I like being in the mountains.”</p>
 
<i><p>Check out Conway’s Corner at <a href="http://www.tetongravity.com">www.tetongravity.com</a> for an introductory online avalanche course. TGR’s Tangerine Dream and Anomaly DVDs also include avalanche education segments in addition to extraordinary skiing and snowboarding sequences.</p></i>
<i><p> 
Posted on Oct. 13, 2006</p></i>]]></description>
      <pubDate>Mon, 06 Nov 2006 21:07:24 -0500</pubDate>
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    <item>
      <title>Perfect Moments</title>
	  <author>Ingrid Backstrom</author>
      <link>/summitview/oct06/perfect.shtml</link>
      <description><![CDATA[

<i><b><p>By Ingrid Backstrom</p></b></i>

<p>Probably once or twice a year, being a professional skier actually feels like a job. It could be when you’ve spent hours in an airport when your flight has been delayed, and then it finally gets canceled, and you’re stuck, out of luck, and missing an important event. Or it could be when you’re really tired and just want to go to bed, but you have to be at some sort of function. You’re so tired that a conversation with a nice person that you normally would enjoy seems like drudgery, and you can’t even concentrate or form sentences. You know for a fact that you seem awkward and boring.</p>
<p>But, like I said, this doesn’t happen very often. Mostly, being a professional skier is the best job for me ever, and it doesn’t feel like a job. I get to experience the synergy of having many of my personal goals be exactly the same as my professional goals. The people I meet—such as filmmakers, photographers, and other skiers on trips, on chairlifts, and at movie premières—are all people I would probably want to be friends with if I lived in the same area. (We have similar priorities and enjoy similar activities.) I have the chance to travel and meet many of them at the same time. I get to go all over the world and see many places I dream about—beautiful mountain ranges of every type.</p>
<p>This fall, though, I noticed one thing that is different now that I am a “professional” skier as opposed to before, when I was a “ski bum”—I’ve begun to quantify and qualify my skiing, as a result of working in ski movies.</p>
<p>Like many skiers, I have goals each season—lines I want to ski at Squaw, airs I want to take, etc. When I look back at a season, I think of it in terms of a) how many powder days I got, and b) how many of my goals I accomplished, or how I felt about my own skiing. How much fun I had, of course, is a function of both of these factors. It’s some sort of mathematical equation involving those two variables and a bunch of other things.</p>
 
<p>When you work on a ski movie for a good portion of the year, you have the ability to look back and see how you did. (You also get to see how others think you did, but that’s a whole different story.) If you had a great year, productivity-wise, this opportunity is a good thing. You can revel in the satisfaction of goals completed.</p>

<p>However, if you had a year where conditions weren’t great on your trips, or you weren’t skiing your best, either mentally or physically, each clip reminds you of what could have been. Why didn’t I take that air bigger? Why was I such a wimp that day, when so-and-so was charging? Of course, you tend to forget about the ice chunks you had encountered on the previous run, or the fact that you had just dropped in on what you thought would be perfect snow, and instead slid uncontrollably into a debris field on 40-plus-degree ice, or that so-and-so got hurt later that day. You just seem to focus on what you could have done at the time, and how you should have just stepped up and taken it. At least that’s the often unforgiving way I usually see it, when I’m watching the footage of myself the following autumn.</p>
<p>It’s strange that I am so critical, because my whole approach to skiing as a job is that it’s still skiing, and skiing is fun. I want to challenge myself, but always with something I want to do, not something I’m forcing myself to have “Kodak courage” about. I’m not really skiing for the camera. I’m skiing for me, and hopefully, by taking that approach, it translates into something people want to watch. That way I’ll never compromise those values that led me to skip the real world after college and become a ski bum in the first place. That is, I have the freedom of skiing whenever and wherever I can, flying down snow and constantly chasing that next “white room” or “blank mind” moment. I always feel good about a line I just skied, even when no one but me was there to see it.</p>
 
<p>After I watched <a href="http://www.mspfilms.com/">Matchstick Productions’</a> latest movie, Push, again a few nights ago, I started feeling a little melancholy, about what else I could have done last winter, how I could have skied better. But then something funny happened—I started thinking about the whole winter, not just the moments captured on film. I realized there were many of those perfect moments scattered throughout the winter. They may not have made the final cut—or even been captured by a camera—but I got to experience them. It registered loud and clear that I’m as proud of those moments as I was when I was a ski bum. Even though I’m already beside myself with excitement for this coming winter, that realization a few nights ago makes me get the full-blown fever for winter. It can’t possibly come soon enough!</p>
 
<p>I’m going to continue to work on chasing those moments until the first flake of the first mountain-opening storm falls. I’ll be dancing snow-dances like a crazy person, thanking my lucky stars I get to live the life I do.  And I’ll be holding back the tendency to be too hard on myself, too. Anybody who skis needs to see the big picture—that any winter, pursued passionately enough—is big enough to dwarf even the bad days.</p>

<i><p>Posted on Oct. 25, 2006.</p></i>
<p></p>


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      <pubDate>Mon, 06 Nov 2006 20:58:12 -0500</pubDate>
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      <title>The Keys to Recovery</title>
	  <author>Dana Flahr</author>
      <link>/tips/oct6/recovery.shtml</link>
      <description><![CDATA[
<b><p><i>By Dana Flahr</i></p></b>
<p>After sustaining a serious ski injury for the first time, I've realized much of my rehab program can be adapted as an epic early-season training ritual. Both include similar elements and each aims at the same outcome.</p>
<p><i>Rehabilitation</i>: (my definition) Not only to strengthen and heal an injured body part, but also to prepare physically and mentally for a long winter of testing that body part again, regaining the needed confidence, and surviving potentially dangerous situations in the mountains.</p>
<p>I have no illusions—the whole process of rehabbing an injury can be very hard. The physical part is not so bad, really. All athletes are prepared to train their bodies when needed. The mental part, however, includes some of the highest hurdles I’ve ever had to get over. All of a sudden, your sport—your drug of choice—is taken away from you completely. Skiing is all I really know, and it is my one true love. With it completely out of the picture, life just didn't seem right. It is so important at this stage of rehabilitation to stay positive and not to remove yourself from any other aspects of your life, like your friends and family. Here are some of the key things I have learned from sticking my nose in everything I could find on rehabbing an injury:</p><ul>
<p><b>Discipline</b>: Stick to your program. Practice your exercises every day. Keep your injured body part moving. Use a body ball, and stretch a lot. Whatever you do on one side of your body, do it with the other side, too. Balance is key, so train in balance. Stick to your guns on all aspects of your recovery program.</p>
<p><b>Commitmen</b>t: Everything you think and do should revolve around your rehab, especially in the early stages. Your full recovery should be the most important thing in your life, and sacrifices should be made to ensure success. Personally speaking—I urge that you quit all your bad habits, especially tobacco use and alcohol. Alcohol doubles your healing time, and the chemicals in tobacco are the last thing your body needs.</p>
<p><b>Positive Outlook</b>: Keep in your mind while you train hard that you are going to come back strong, and you'll be back in action very soon. Tell yourself that you won't have any more problems after your injury is healed. (I guarantee that this time off will make you appreciate everything you do in your sport much more.)</p>
<p><b>Proper Food</b>: Eat healthy. Your body won't do what you want it to if you don't give it what it wants. Eat lots of vegetables and fruit, and avoid starch and too many carbs. If you have inflammation, you want to get rid of it. Eating too much starch will add to your swelling and prolong healing. Drink tons of water to stay hydrated! Your body wants water to get better.</p>
<p><b>Supplements</b>: Talk to nutritionists about what you can take that will help your recovery, such as OptiMSM for cartilage damage, and L glutamine and protein supplements for new tissue growth. Check out Zengh-Gu-Shui. This 1,500-year-old Chinese anti-inflammatory formula works amazingly well and is barely known in the West.</p>
<p><b>Train of Though</b>t: If you think about your sport while you're not doing it (even while you’re training before winter, and not after an injury), and can live it any time of the day, you can actually get better at it. I truly believe that positive thinking and using your imagination can improve your technique without physical practice</p></ul>
<p>So that's the gist of getting through your injury time and even gearing up for winter. If I had to add anything else to the rehab prescription, I’d say go buy a guitar, or play another musical instrument. It is a great release, and it keeps that rhythm going in your head. It's a little light in what can be a pretty dark situation. Whatever you do—don’t give up!</p>

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      <pubDate>Mon, 06 Nov 2006 21:33:29 -0500</pubDate>
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      <title>Everest Base Camp</title>
	  <author>Pete Athans</author>
      <link>/expeditions/oct06/basecamp.shtml</link>
      <description><![CDATA[
<b><i><p>Written by Pete Athans</p></i></b>
<p>Would you, without reservation, willingly camp at high altitude, on an icy glacier hundreds of feet thick, for months on end? Would that decision be influenced by the simple fact that your body heat would thermodynamically sculpt your hips and shoulders into that icy surface a little bit more each day and night? But, most importantly, would you not only spend a few nights, but perhaps months or even cumulative years of your life, fully cognizant that the glacier beneath you, groaning, cracking, creaking, is moving endlessly downward of its own unpredictable accord?</p>
<p>If you answered &ldquo;hell, no,&rdquo; I&rsquo;d be sympathetic&mdash;but my resounding &ldquo;hell, yes!&rdquo; has led me to spend roughly 16 expeditions&rsquo; worth of days living on or above my primitive Himalayan home&mdash;Mount Everest&rsquo;s 17,500-foot base camp. Here&rsquo;s a rough calculation: At about two months per expedition, I&rsquo;ve spent 32 months there, a bit shy of three full years. Beginning in 1985 and continuing up to 2002, Everest base camp, on the ruggedly barren yet remarkably well-traveled Khumbu glacier, was my true home away from home. Or maybe not. Given the itinerant nature of my first decade of climbing on Everest, base camp may have been my place of most continuous residence. Cold? Inhospitable? I have lived in far worse without the benefit of a view!</p>
<p>The Everest base camp is figuratively a movable feast by virtue of its multinational and often colorful temporary residents. More accurately, though, this temporal tent town is literally a moving feast since the glacier is continually creeping southward to lower elevations and more temperate climates. Certainly, no one residing there can control the unanticipated, frequently alarming movements of the ice.</p>
<p>Everest base camp in and of itself is a holy grail for many hikers, or trekkers, as they have come to be known in Nepal. From the closest airstrip at the hilltop village of Lukla at 9,000 feet, the journey to base camp can take up to 10 days, depending on the traveler&rsquo;s acclimatization and fitness. While a trekker can take a few obligatory photographs of the lower ramparts of Everest, exult in achieving the immediate goal, and skedaddle down to more hospitable climes, Everest&rsquo;s climbers have a different, more attenuated fate. Confronted with up to two months at base camp, which resembles a cross between a high-altitude granite quarry and an ice cube tray, climbers simply have to make the best of it.</p>
<p>So the task at hand becomes how to make the place more hospitable and habitable. That task invariably starts with sculpting: flattening the ice humps and hills for tent placement, moving rocks and boulders to make flat space, and, most importantly, building granite walls over which to throw tarpaulins to make kitchens and meeting areas. Climbers joke that if all this work weren&rsquo;t being done by willing subjects, the rustic tent city might appear to be a penal colony. Every spring, truly herculean effort goes into sculpting this one-yak town at the end of the world. Even more remarkable is that most of it will, within a month or two, once again become hilly and humped, and all the rock walls will crumble with the inevitable motion of the glacier&rsquo;s movement. Just as the Himalayan Buddhist monks create the beautiful sand paintings that they know will be destroyed, so do climbers diligently build their two-months&rsquo; home, no matter how Sisyphean it might appear. There seems no end to the effort of making this inhospitable place a home.</p>
<p>With all that time spent in base camp, you doubtless wonder whether I actually climbed the mountain or just spent my time breaking ice and moving rocks. The truth of the matter is that I broke and moved countless bits of rock and ice, but somehow, in the process, I managed to climb the mountain to the summit on seven separate occasions, more than any other American. The achievement earned me the name &ldquo;Mr. Everest,&rdquo; but more importantly, it taught me to cherish Everest as much as the indigenous people who live in the lower villages cherish it.</p>
<p>The Sherpas, ethnic Tibetans who settled these beautiful valleys beginning 400 years ago, consider Everest both an abode of the Mother Goddess of All Humans, Miyo Lungsungma, and a symbolic representation of the same goddess. Over endless cups of tea, bowls of Ramen noodles, and boiled potatoes, I learned that patience, respect, and restraint are just as valuable in climbing and living on this mountain as technical climbing skills, sheer physical endurance, and courage are. In the schoolroom that is Everest base camp, between forays onto the mountain, I may have also learned that life is greater, more complicated, and just as challenging as any mountaineering objective.</p>
<p>Climbing, adventure, and exploration have been the cornerstone and underpinnings of my life&rsquo;s work. In between avalanches off of Everest&rsquo;s triangular and dark west shoulder and the east face of Nuptse, one of Everest&rsquo;s adjacent neighbors, all manner of realizations can become clear. The smoke from the blessed juniper fires circulates and propitiates unseen spirits. The wind flutters the printed prayer flags, or<em> Lungtar</em>, disseminating prayers as if borne aloft on wings. When the weather is inclement and the winds on the summit are high, movement stops on the peak and Everest base camp becomes a place of rest, acceptance, speculation, and meditation. It becomes a place of temporal suspension, a place where possibilities are unlimited and the imagination can take flight. There is as much to learn during these times of inactivity as there is when the weather improves and all is set in motion. And that is what I will forever remember of Everest base camp.</p>
<p>When the winds decline, the jet stream wind moves northward and little squalls of snowfall intermittently arrive from down the valley. I&rsquo;ve learned these important indicators signal that the summit awaits. Then, of course, everything is in motion. Wake-up alarms of wooden spoons hitting blackened aluminum pots can be heard at 3 a.m. from kitchen tents all over base camp. The clanking and rattling of climbing hardware and the crunching efficiency of crampons etching ice can echo through the camp with a breath of excitement, anticipation, and, invariably, not a little dread. Looking out from base camp before dawn, up beyond the colossal wreckage of the Khumbu icefall, I&rsquo;ve often seen tiny pinpricks of the light from headlamps far up the route&mdash;climbers inching their way to the summit.  I&rsquo;ve sometimes seen them moving rapidly, their lights oscillating almost in excitement as if to exclaim, &ldquo;Yes, we&rsquo;re on our way, we&rsquo;re going to make it, we are moving well!&rdquo; Feeling that excitement, that joy in discovering this unique environment, and having a sense of integration with it has always seemed like a splendid gift. It is a present for climbers irrespective of nationality, language, or spiritual path. It is there for those capable of seeing the fruits of their effort arise from discovery, challenge, and exploration. Whether you are a summit climber or simply gazing skyward from the base camp settlement, the power of the place is equally affecting. For me and for many others, within this experience lies the new beginning that comes in assisting the less fortunate among the people who must work in these often cruel, indifferent mountains.</p>
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      <pubDate>Mon, 06 Nov 2006 21:32:52 -0500</pubDate>
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