of Backpacks and Beards
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The day has started off grey, with the beautiful promise of a coming snowfall on the tip of the mountains tongue. But in this moment, that promise seemed daunting. Further we watched the ceiling fall and close in. We saw less and less of the surrounding mountain tops and the gentle falling of snow was like the first signs of fear, the first heightening of senses, the cautionary feeling entering your movements.
I awoke, or more, opened my eyes. The sounds of burners hissing, water boiling, and climbing gear gently clinking together overwhelmed all my senses. Pressing the lowest button on my watch revealed an ultra-bright 4:00am. I took one long, full breath. Soaking in the stillness and trying to enjoy the last remnants of comfort, or what was close to it (my air mattress had a steady leak that I would replenish every… Read More
Zen and the Art of Ski Touring Sliding my feet in that familiar cross-country motion, I take a look at my surroundings; karst mountain peaks ripple the landscape as far as I can see, I’m surrounded by a strange variety of trees seemingly mummified in a blanket of windblown snow and ice, as the sun beats down providing a comforting warmth in a seemingly cold and hostile place. Almost anyone that tours… Read More
How to Avoid Starring at Your Feet. The snow-capped face of Annapurna III stares down at each weary trekker that passes by her cascading rock surface; almost instinctively you try not to look her in the eye, making yourself content to simply stare down at your own two feet as they try to avoid puddles and uneven rock surfaces between each step. After what feels like an hour you look up to… Read More
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