Follow this link to ten-minutes of Colorado snowcountry bliss.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ezash4zbFHc
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Mansfield: Top Secret, March 29, 2008
Saturday I went on an exploration mission with a new friend of the best kind...those you meet in the woods. We leap-frogged up the TD the week before and found out that we both wanted to check out the same area of the mountain. So we did. One of the things I like most about diving into the backcountry is that you never know what will happen or what you encounter. (I encountered a pheasant burrowed in the snow. He popped out with a great ruckus when I rode over him!) There's the high hope of finding sweet, open birch glades intermingled with the possibilitiy that you'll be hiking out. Ah, and how satisfying it is, what a moment of glory, when you find the hidden treasure. This is what we found. I'd like to think no one else knows of these lines. We saw no evidence of any people other than snowshoers. Once we dropped into the ravine...wilderness. I'll be going back for sure!
Lovin' Livin' in VT
Someone asked me once why I chose to live in Vermont. I'm sure I said something along the lines of beauty and community. I love Vermont. It's a special place.
Recently, though, after returning from sunny, powdery Colorado, I've been asking myself that question again. Why, when there's so much ice and mud, do I live in Vermont? My answer keeps coming down to community and the way the mountains here seem to wrap around me, cozy-like.
This Sunday I had an experience that illustrates it all.
I had been at BV all afternoon riding with the kids from school for one of our ski and ride make-up days. 12:00-4:00 as a chaperone and teacher (the mdan kid wouldn't lean downhill and make a toe-side turn!) was the only riding for me. It was packed, too...so full they were parking cars at Timberline and shuttling people to the main mountain.
Being at the mountain is supposed to be rejuvinating and fun. It wasn't either despite the gorgeous weather. The large crowds after a day in the backcountry and sooooo many kids were a shock to my system. The weekends are my time away from kids. (One reason, I love Smuggs is because they keep most of the kids at Morse.)
I was grumpy on my way home, bumping along dirt roads at five o'clock, the sun still shining and me wishing I had something fun to ride. That was when I noticed the tracks coming out of the woods. I slowed, looked up, and stopped. I booted up and grabbed my board. I'd always thoght about side-of-the-road hiking but had never actually done it. Today was the day. It was perfect...just what I needed.
Someone had been there recently with a dog. There were fresh tracks ofthe ski and paw variety. The snow was soft for a few inches before hitting a hard barely-breakable crust.
I was about halfway up the hill when a big black lab come bounding down before a guy casually shooshing down toward me on tele gear.
"Hi. Is this your land?" I'm sure he going to tell me it is and to beat it. It's happened to me before in the J-co woods.
"Yup. From here down, at least."
"Oh."
"It's okay. You can hike here."
I proceeded to introduce myself and tell him why I was in his woods.
"Jed," he said. He proceeded to tell me where the best lines were.
By the time I was at the top, he was back up. We chatted a while longer. It was his daughter's third birthday, and he was out making turns while she slept off the cake coma. He welcomed me back anytime before heading home to the east. I took a more northerly line involving a nice, steep rock back to my car. My day was not just salvaged, but enriched.
It's that kind of stuff that makes me love living in Vermont.
Recently, though, after returning from sunny, powdery Colorado, I've been asking myself that question again. Why, when there's so much ice and mud, do I live in Vermont? My answer keeps coming down to community and the way the mountains here seem to wrap around me, cozy-like.
This Sunday I had an experience that illustrates it all.
I had been at BV all afternoon riding with the kids from school for one of our ski and ride make-up days. 12:00-4:00 as a chaperone and teacher (the mdan kid wouldn't lean downhill and make a toe-side turn!) was the only riding for me. It was packed, too...so full they were parking cars at Timberline and shuttling people to the main mountain.
Being at the mountain is supposed to be rejuvinating and fun. It wasn't either despite the gorgeous weather. The large crowds after a day in the backcountry and sooooo many kids were a shock to my system. The weekends are my time away from kids. (One reason, I love Smuggs is because they keep most of the kids at Morse.)
I was grumpy on my way home, bumping along dirt roads at five o'clock, the sun still shining and me wishing I had something fun to ride. That was when I noticed the tracks coming out of the woods. I slowed, looked up, and stopped. I booted up and grabbed my board. I'd always thoght about side-of-the-road hiking but had never actually done it. Today was the day. It was perfect...just what I needed.
Someone had been there recently with a dog. There were fresh tracks ofthe ski and paw variety. The snow was soft for a few inches before hitting a hard barely-breakable crust.
I was about halfway up the hill when a big black lab come bounding down before a guy casually shooshing down toward me on tele gear.
"Hi. Is this your land?" I'm sure he going to tell me it is and to beat it. It's happened to me before in the J-co woods.
"Yup. From here down, at least."
"Oh."
"It's okay. You can hike here."
I proceeded to introduce myself and tell him why I was in his woods.
"Jed," he said. He proceeded to tell me where the best lines were.
By the time I was at the top, he was back up. We chatted a while longer. It was his daughter's third birthday, and he was out making turns while she slept off the cake coma. He welcomed me back anytime before heading home to the east. I took a more northerly line involving a nice, steep rock back to my car. My day was not just salvaged, but enriched.
It's that kind of stuff that makes me love living in Vermont.
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