Category Archives: Montana Experience

No Sweat

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It’s been hot here in Missoula lately, so I’ve been chasing adventures that tend to keep me cool.  I haven’t succeeded in not sweating, but I certainly have had a lot of fun.  Just as Ramesh and I got back from Glacier National Park last week, my close friend Andy (and his lovely lady Sarah) rolled in from Chicago.  They’re out backpacking in the Bitterroot now, but wanted to check out Missoula and catch up before they checked in to the deep wild.

We hit the Clark fork in the canoe last Sunday, but the Clark Fork hit us back with some spicy rapids and strong flows.  There was no shortage of getting wet, but that also meant there was a shortage of photos.  Boats were flipped, a few minor pieces of gear got lost, but the smiles stayed on and we made an adventure of it.

One of the rare photos of me and Andy- on the far end of Como Lake.

Wednesday night Andy and Sarah were ready to head in, and despite a full on week of work, I made a last minute decision to sneak out with them for a night in the woods.  We took off out of Missoula at 530, made a few stops on our way to Como lake, and started hiking around 8pm.  We made camp at 10pm, I slept until 5, and then hobbled as best as I could back to the car to drive into work.  It was a long commute that I sincerely did not mind.

If only every commute could start with this view…

Saturday I got the climbing itch, bad, and knew I’d be far from adventure activities due to some upcoming work commitments, so I tracked down a partner and headed out for an easy romp up No Sweat Arete (4p, 5.7, II) in Mill Creek.  Overcast skies kept temperatures reasonable, and after over a month of being off the rock, getting in a few pitches felt awesome.  My right hand is still well injured from tearing a pulley in early June, but my foot is coming back together nicely so mellow terrain was in order.  There’s still nothing I enjoy quite like a nice multipitch outing.

I still don’t know if this is actually the first pitch…

Jen- figuring it out, backpack and all.

Major props to my new friend Jen for completing her first multi-pitch climb, and carrying a sizable pack to boot.  Now that I know the route, we’ll take less stuff next time… thanks for a great day out lady!

Still smiling after pitch 4… only one more to go.

One off the top for good measure. And yes, there is a 1,000ft unclimbed wall behind me…

Like Civilized Men

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I spent last week introducing an old friend to new places and new ideas- safe to say we both learned a few things and had a hell of a good time.  Ramesh showed up from Houston on Tuesday morning.  I took care of a few work items, while he explored downtown and hiked “the M.”  I wrapped up work and we started a 5 day blitz of all that western Montana had to offer: live music, rodeo, pow-wow, Walmart (really?), downtown Missoula, BBQ, fireworks, Big Dipper Ice Cream, and wilderness.  With the last piece being the most important, I knew that Glacier National Park more than anywhere else, was probably just the best place to introduce my friend to the wilderness for the first time.  The photos tell the story better than I can:

Lake McDonald. Gateway to Glacier National Park.

The boat I borrowed was still there after 160 miles…

Boat + Car + Mountains = Adventure

Ramesh learns to move some water- and rock a cowboy hat.

Kintla Lake = Perfection.

My friend opened his heart to this place, and had more questions than I had answers to.

High country.

Learning the skills. Ramesh was happy to nail the flint and steel, and I was happy to nail the photo!

An evening with civilized men.

Our paths since living together in college have differed, but sharing time in the wild was the  perfect way to reconnect.  The opportunity to share my love and skills for traveling in these places was sublime.  We enjoyed perfect weather, a perfect route, and perfect conversation.  There’s too much even to blog about, and more on the way- stay tuned.

Tech details: Day 1- drive to Polebridge, MT, get a little lost, find Kintla Lake, canoe to lower Kintla backcountry camp.  Day 2- reload gear, backpack to upper Kintla Lake backcountry camp, then day hike to snowline below boulder pass, Day 3- hike back to boat at Lower Kintla, canoe to car, drive to Missoula for epic dinner with more new friends.

Roaming

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Roaming- that’s what my phone said for most of last weekend.  I like it that way.

Last Thursday I was out for a short run- easy pace, short distance, with some circuit training in mind for later, but about 20 minutes in, something popped in my left foot and I hobbled home to spend the evening looking at the hills I’d rather be running.  The feeling that my awesome weekend plan was about to go sideways sank into my stomach.

Yes this is actually the view from my backyard most nights…

My good friend David spent his Friday driving out from Seattle to explore some of Montana with me, and despite limping through the workday, I knew I just needed to get out of town. David has inspired me for a long time, and I appreciate how our friendship continues to grow despite having lived in different states for most of the time we’ve known each other.  I gave David a quick tour of the city Friday night, and Saturday morning we headed for the Anaconda-Pintler Wilderness in southwestern Montana.  It’s a corner of the state I haven’t ever been to, and one of the least visited wilderness areas.  I felt optimistic whatever was hurting my foot would clear up and we hiked into the backcountry above Storm Lake.

Pintler-Anaconda Wilderness. Booyah.

It’s still early season in Montana.

David thinks – “this, this is not Seattle any more…”

David’s dog Bisbee joined us for the adventure, and although she ultimately proved to limit our range of terrain, we were grateful for her company.  We found camp on a barren plateau at 9,400′ and after a gorgeous sunset, hunkered down for a very windy night.

We’re just out for a “walk”, at 9,800′.

Which one is the dog, and which one is the fox?

High country goods.

The elements may all be the same- rock, cloud, tree, sky- but a sunset in the wilderness always seems special to me.

Our second summit attempt the next morning found us facing down some serious thunderheads, and my foot wasn’t getting any better, so we bailed back to the car, and took the Jetta for a joy ride down the Big Hole valley (another place I’ve been meaning to explore).  We paid our respects at the Big Hole National Battlefield, enjoyed views off Lost Trail pass, and found ourselves camped on the Salmon River outside North Fork, Idaho for Sunday evening.

The Big Hole Valley. Montana Hwy 569 is not to be missed.

Car camping on the Salmon.

It felt like summer to just go.  To just roam.  Forget work, forget worries (minus my foot), enjoy time with an old friend, and explore.  We found an abandon mine- it was rad.  We found some sketchy hill people living at a hot spring that we drove 40 miles of dirt roads to find- it was… not so rad, but still makes for a fun story.  Sometimes I give car camping a bad rap, but when you can’t walk any more and just gotta go, I’m grateful for it.

Ever wonder how much abandon mining equipment is scattered across the west?

Well off the beaten path…

Tuesday morning David took off, and I headed to the podiatrist.  We had a useful conversation about the stress fracture in my second metatarsal, and he gave me a walking boot.  Certainly not how I planned to start my Missoula summer, but I’ve got plans to figure it out.  Many thanks to David for being an awesome adventure partner and important friend- here’s to many more.

3-4 weeks. It looks worse than it is.

14 Minutes

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“Skander, I bet we only have like 30 minutes until that storm hits.”
“Naw, it’s 8:45 now.  There’s no way we’ll be wet by 9:15.”

I spent last week desperate to climb, and despite a relatively obvious forecast (“heavy rain”), Jess and I were hiking up to the Starlight Lounge wall at Lost Horse Canyon on Saturday morning.   I had hoped the rain wouldn’t really kick until the afternoon, that seemed optimistic as we drove up to the trailhead.  Props to Jess for being a willing partner, and a much better judge of the weather- 14 minutes after our conversation, a steady drizzle enveloped the cliff face.  It was not the best start to the day.

Not sure whether Jess is indicating her opinion of the weather or my skills at forecasting it.

Jess was kind enough to oblige me by finishing the hike to the base of the cliff despite the steady precip.  Just at the base, the skies began to lighten, and we scrambled to get an up-valley vantage.  Clearing skies and warm temps got me thinking- “by the time we rack up, I bet this thing is dry…”  So we did, and it was.  I shot up the 5.8 we chose to warmup on, leaving several pieces of big gear on the ground.  Fast early season lesson- big cracks are always bigger than they look from the ground.

This picture just doesn’t really fit into any good day of climbing. Note the line of water marching down the valley.

Ultimately, it was fine, and “good training” for running it out and finding “odd” gear.  From the top I could see another system building up the valley, but it felt like we had more time.

The sun in the background is entirely deceiving.

We rapped off but left a top rope for this funky looking wide crack just next to the previous line.  The storm was moving fast. My ego told me I should lead the wide crack, but based on the previous experience, I took the top rope and figured out the route on top rope just in time to rap off before the rain hit.  And then it really hit, going back to the car suddenly became mandatory, we we’re sitting this one out.  It was clear and sunny by the time we got down, but another storm system was rolling through, so we grabbed some lunch and weighed our options.  A group of five other folks came off the cliff around the same time and we swapped stories about who was on what when it started getting wet.

Long story short, they were “the locals”, and also very friendly, and also literally lived in a climbing gym.  They were psyched to meet some new people, and quickly invited us back to town for some plastic pulling rather than rolling the dice with the weather.  As usual, the locals are STRONG.  Eric and Katie rent a 4,000s.f. warehouse, with a little partition for a bedroom, and a completely freestanding, multifaceted indoor wall covering about 1,000 s.f. of floor space.  They have plans to continue building out the rest of the space.  I admire their complete dedication to the sport, and they are equally strong, humble, and fun.  Getting to know them was a great way to salvage the afternoon- I look forward to linking up with them again soon.

Wanna get strong? These kids literally live in a gym…

Place

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As I described it last weekend, “I’m finally feeling stable, and now I just have to decide what to do with that.”  The statement feels almost ironic in light of a few mistakes I’ve made lately, but seemingly in line with my previous post- the mistakes only reveal the necessity of further commitment to core values.

A few weeks ago, my good friend Chris invited me back to Alaska for another amazing trip on the north side of Denali National Park.  This would not be technical climbing, but a true experience pushing our bodies packrafting and backpacking in deep wilderness.  He sent me the maps a few days later, and I took a look at the bank account. I think this works- maybe it feels like a stretch, but these are the things that I do, and perhaps even more, that I live for.  Monday night, I bought a plane ticket to Anchorage and started to dream of being up there again, in one of the great wild places.

Me and Chris at McGonagall Pass, June 2011.

Something was gnawing at me though- there was a doubt in my head, and something didn’t quite seem right.  Tuesday night at band rehearsal, it hit me.  I had committed to playing two gigs during the time I had just booked in Alaska.  The gigs were already booked- I had already committed to my friends and bandmates.  Chris’ dates were firm, so I was out of luck (fortunately AlaskaAir’s cancellation policy is relatively generous- for $75 you get back whatever you gave them…).

I was stunned, but it got me thinking.  My original plan for this summer was somewhat simpler.  I’m still living frugally, and trying to plan carefully for future financial goals.  My big goal for traveling right now is for January in Australia, and I was looking forward to a summer of exploring wild places much closer to home (that’s why I moved to Montana in the first place).  In my life, having fewer, simpler (but no less lofty) goals usually means I end up achieving more of them.  Bailing on a trip never feels good, but hopefully this might evidence a simple rule- you usually find what you go looking for.  Have I gone looking for the wild experience here, in the place I’m in?  Only a little bit.  Does it make sense to fly and drive 3,000 miles when I haven’t really spent much time in the wilderness 30 miles from my house?  Despite all the incredible experiences I’ve had in Alaska, maybe not this year. I think the experience is am important reminder that right now, I need to commit to the place that I am in and the people I am with.

Core Values

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This weekend was about core values- what are they?  How does my everyday life reflect them?  Why do they matter?  I was feeling punchy for most of the weekend, and it’s funny how life boils very quickly towards questions of your core values:

Why do you go to work in the morning?  How does your work connect to your core values?  If you can’t tell, then you are in the wrong line of work.

Do you like the girl?  How does she inspire you to live closer to your core values?  If she doesn’t, then don’t waste your time (or your heart).

Should I spend the money on [insert blank]?  How does that purchase support your core values?  It’s surprisingly hard to negotiate with yourself on this one.

Why aren’t you reaching some of your goals?  How committed have you been to the core values that reaching the goal demonstrates?  More commitment = more accomplishment.

Dedicated hard work yields honest worthwhile rewards.

So what are they?  I finished up my series of seminars with the New Leaders Council (NLC) on Saturday and Sunday morning.  We reviewed some of what we had sorted out during our time- and realized that back in January, I had put together a pretty concise list:

Accountability, community, humility, resilience, optimism.
Adventure, teamwork, quality, necessity, fun.

Interestingly enough, when I frame my life and activity with respect to the core values, I’m always pleased to realize that none of these values seem to contradict each other.   My life of late has been feeling very busy, but not necessarily full.  Sorting through the clutter leads towards questions about commitment to core values, and for whatever I’m cutting out- it always feels good to let go of the extraneous.  Appropriately, I enjoyed finding this gem on facebook from my friend Oscar:

Less more, more less.

The Weekend Summary:

I finished work early on Friday, met my friend Jess, and I ended up sending my first project of the season in Kootenai Canyon.  5.10c, all gear, with a delicate yet powerful crux well above your last piece.  As usual, it’s all about letting go of the baggage and getting that feeling to stick.

Identity Crack- tick. It only gets better from here.

As usual, the NLC conference was a very good time- I look forward to continuing to strengthen the many valuable relationships founded through our time together.  Despite a very fulfilling time together, I needed some time outside to finish the weekend right.  Accountability and humility point me at improving my running- and I’ve been working at it for months.  Ultimately though, that means that you have to run with people faster and stronger than you.  I only had one name to call, and I knew it was going to hurt.

Derek and I met at “the M” and traced the “Double Dip” route backwards.  ~13 miles, ~3,000 feet of climbing, and 2hr18min later we were back at the bikes, and I was distinctly not feeling punchy any more.  Derek ran me into the ground like I hadn’t been in a long time- and I think he still had quite a lot of fun doing it.  I’m looking forward to next time my friend.

The Beehive

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Almost unknowingly, the greater Yellowstone ecosystem stole a spot in my heart early in my experience with mountains.  I spent 8 days in the Absoarka Mountains in 2003 and found my first alpine experience climbing Granite Peak (12,799′, tallest mountain in Montana).  I’ve been back to the greater Yellowstone area at least a dozen times since, and it never ceases to amaze me.

We’re headed towards the obvious face at the head of the basin.

When I started ice climbing, I bought a copy of Winter Dance- one photo stood out to me immediately.  The view off the summit of a mountain I had never heard of called “The Beehive”.  It didn’t seem like a realistic objective then.  This year, with mileage, time, and the right partners, I knew I was ready to go when Drew mentioned it a few weeks ago.

Like many other Beehives, this one was full of honey.

I drove over to Bozeman on Friday afternoon with my favorite feeling: certain, inevitable awesome.  A perfect forecast, stellar partners, and a long sought after objective lined up for some of the most fun I’ve had on rock in a long time.  Enough talking, more photos…

I’ve never had to switch directly from ski boots to rock shoes before. Go figure…

Views from the center of the face were spectacular.

Drew leading up pitch 4.

We also thoroughly enjoyed the company of our friends Pete and Marco.  They climbed a mixed ice/rock line just next to ours, and friendly banter continued throughout the afternoon.  It’s rare to have another party in close proximity, and especially one with Pete Tapley.  Pete has put up most of the first ascents on The Beehive, and also happens to be one of the chillest, most fun climbers I have ever met.  I sincerely wish him well on his upcoming trip to the Alaska range.

The one and only Pete Tapley, ragin’.

Marco- enjoying a little exposure just before the summit ridge.

Drew and summited about 15 minutes after Pete and Marco, and we took extra time to enjoy the late afternoon sun and dead silence.  It was every bit as good as I had hoped- perfect partner, perfect weather, perfect route.  No, it’s not the hardest thing I’ve climbed, but we had a hoot, and I got to tick one off the list that’s been well overdue.  Booyah.

Feeling high on life on the summit.

Great views of The Sphinx and Lone Peak on the way home.

Technical details: The New World Route- 5.8, III, 500′.  Gear: singles #0-#2 C3, #0.3-#3 Camelots, 1 set offset nuts, 1 set BD Stoppers, 12 alpine draws.  Rock shoes don’t climb snow very well…

Still On!

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It was 930pm on Saturday night, and I’m feeling worked from too many days at the rock gym.  Rather than doing something social, I spent the evening researching backcountry skiing options.  My friend Jake is a strong skier, and has his weekend on Sunday & Monday.  He was psyched to ski, and the colder temps and frequent precip left me thinking that spring skiing today might be in fine shape.  The season is still on!

Good to go for another awesome day in the Bitterroot.

St. Mary’s is a classic ski line in the Bitterroot range, and I had tried it once before but with little success. Driving south on Hwy 93 past Victor, MT it’s easy to dream up carving giant turns in the open bowl. We left town around 715a this morning and were skinning the road at 845a. The road was clear to the 735/735A junction, and we alternated skinning and bootpacking in equal amounts from there to the trailhead.  Another hour put us on top of the first knob, but awful skinning conditions slowed us down on our way to the true summit.  Temps dropped quickly, but we had relatively little wind, so things stayed mostly comfortable up high.  We tagged the summit around 1245pm in clearing conditions, and were blown away by the view- I just didn’t know the backside of the Bitterroot looked quite so… awesome:

Really?

You should see that again:

Admittedly, wilder than I had even hoped for (with a few edits).

Psyched to be on top, and “curious” about the route down, we changed over and started scouting things out.  It looked okay, but as I traversed into the crux headwall, it didn’t feel okay.  Despite a well consolidated snowpack, my ski cut gave me the avalanche shivers, and threw a bunch of chunky crap down the route.  I stopped, looked around, and only then noticed the extent of older avalanche debris. The slope I cut hadn’t slid, but I wasn’t sure it wouldn’t.  That said, I was sure I needed to get off it.  I lifted my foot to initiate a turn, but instead of turning, a funny thing happened. I discovered my right ski binding wasn’t actually properly clipped to my boot.

It’s an odd feeling to watch your ski take off down the hill without you on it…

The ski made it out of the suspected avalanche zone quite a bit faster than I did.  I made short work of bootpacking down after it, and was glad to see it stop only 250m downslope, but I missed out on the steep skiing (and possible avalanche triggering).  Not sure if it was “a sign”, but I was psyched the slope didn’t slide while Jake dropped down to meet me, and with two skis firmly attached, we cleared the area in short order.  I’m not going to get in to the exact decision-making here, but it didn’t feel good at the time, and I’m thankful for the learning opportunity.

Our tracks are on the main face right of the triangle of trees. Stout.

We enjoyed the rest of the ski, I may have spied some ice climbing for next winter, and getting back to the car required quite a bit of work.  Despite the scare on the headwall, it was a beautiful day out, and I’m psyched to have a little more experience with a solid partner.

The weather kept getting better for us as the day got later.

“Spring conditions” at low elevations. Time to re-tune the skis!

 

Pacing

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The first piece of art I hung in my room was the reminder I've needed the most lately.

Somehow, life here in western Montana keeps picking up the pace- I haven’t planned it that way, that seems to be how life goes for me in the city.  Wrapped up in the NLC conference over April 21 and 22, adventures were largely confined to evening activities- thankfully the days are already long here and we get usable light until about 9pm.  Running up over Sentinel and rock climbing in Kootenai Canyon made the days spent inside more bearable.

Thoroughly worked by the time I got to the top of Mt. Sentinel.

The week sped by with equal parts of packing, fundraiser planning, and getting a massive proposal out of the office (it looks good, fingers crossed).  Our NLC fundraiser on Friday night was quite the success, thank you so much to everyone who donated!

The 2012 NLC-Montana Fellows. What an inspiring group of people to share ideas with.

Proper moving operations absorbed all of Saturday, and a huge shout to my friend Andy for bringing his subie and trailer combo over, as well as donating the best part of a Saturday afternoon.

Really glad I didn't move 550 miles like this...

Despite spending most of my day cold, scared, and exhausted getting on some hard sport climbing (no photos… my mind was elsewhere)- Sunday was still a great day of climbing with Steve in Kootenai.  If I have high goals for pushing my grade climbing, Steve is the guy that’s going to make that happen- thanks a bunch dude. I burned out early and Steve had family commitments, so we were back in town by 330- leaving me time to enjoy dinner with my friends Jeremy and Crissie, and make it to a really special event (not my local running site, but Bridger Ridge had the best description).  Geoff Roes is a titan in the sport of ultra-running (running races longer than a standard marathon)- he’s been someone I’ve followed on and off for years, and he had an amazing win in the Western States 100 trail run 2010.  His competitors were just as much part of the story, and the story was so good they made a film about it.  The Wilma Theater was packed, the strength of the running community here is amazing, and an avenue I haven’t tried to plug into yet.

Three of the best long distance runners in the world. Geoff Roes, Tony Krupicka, and Hal Koerner at the Wilma Theater on Sunday night.

If nothing else, the training volume (30-40 hours per week of running) these guys put in is unbelievable, and gets me re-thinking some of the training I’m doing towards my own goals.  To be certain, they know a thing or two about pacing, and priorities- and the event gave me a mental push I need lately to hopefully dial the pace back a bit.  That’s all for now, cause I’m late to work.  Thanks for reading!