Mount Washington Observatory

Jay and Steve

During my east coast years, there were several occasions in which a group of us would climb Mount Washington in New Hampshire. At 6,288 ft and the most prominent mountain east of the Mississippi River, however not as high as Rockies, steep as the Sierras or glaciated as the Cascades, but is the Home of the World’s Worst Weather. It holds the record for the highest surface wind speed ever officially recorded at 231 mph.

In the summer the summit can be reached in a variety of ways, hike the popular Tuckerman Ravine Trail, ride the Cog railway or drive your car up the auto road. However in winter there’s only one way up and that’s climb and take your chances. I did all of the above including skiing Tuckerman and hiking the whole Presidential Range.

One of my most memorable treks to the summit was in January when the temperature can drop to -59°F. Snowshoeing from Pinkham Notch we arrived at the Hermit Lake Shelters just below Tuckerman Ravine settling in one of the open shelters. We were the only lunatics up there at that time. It gets dark early that time of year so we got in our sleeping bags to stay warm and tried to get some sleep. I used my new North Face Expedition bag rated to −40 °F and spent most of the night shivering waiting for the sun to rise.

We left camp early and slogged our way up the right side of the ravine where snowshoes were out of the question and the wind was really making itself known. The higher we got the less cover there was from the trees, glad I brought my goggles, any expose skin would freeze. Over the rim of the ravine the summit was visible but the wind was incredible, my down parka wasn’t making it even with all my layers. I couldn’t feel my feet and my water bottle was frozen solid but luckily the wind was pushing us up toward the summit. Arriving at the summit it reminded me of a fantasy land, everything was covered in rim ice. There are several buildings up there and they looked like the winter palace in Dr. Zhivago buried in heavy icing.

I was very cold and thirsty and knew that the summit Observatory would be staffed so I proceeded to the entrance where I noticed a sign which said the staff had limited resources and not to bother them. I knocked anyway and the door to the ante room opened. The fellow looked at me and said, “Can’t you read?” Before I could say something real stupid he said, “Come in and warm up.” He handed me a cup of water from a holding tank inside their room. I took a sip and it felt like it could have burnt my lips even though it was at room temperature. I looked over at some of the gauges and he said temperatures went down to -44 °F that morning and wind gust were up to 102 mph. He asked “do you understand what that equals to in wind chill?” He said it was approaching -100 °F. Little did I know my toes were already suffering from frostbite.

Making our way off the summit I had a bit of a problem when the wind knock me off my feet and I started a uncontrolled slide down the solid ice that covered the surface. I turned over to self arrest using my ice axe but was suddenly launch over some rock outcropping and the point of the axe lodged into my down parka. The axe took hold of the ice just as I flew into another group of rocks were I came to a sudden stop. Laying there I’m thinking, “this really hurts” but was amassed when I looked beyond the rocks and realized my next stop would have been 800 feet down at the base of Tuckerman Ravine.

The rest of the slog down to the valley was long and slow but we made it to the Pinkham Notch AMC lodge where we showered and changed. There I discovered why I couldn’t feel my feet. My toenails where all black from frostbite and the shower felt like it was boiling hot on my numb feet. Adding a couple pair of additional socks could have added to my lack of circulation thus acerbating to the problem. Weather is the biggest killer in the outdoors, and can change quickly in the mountains. But we knew the conditions and choose to ignore them. You can’t mess with Mother Nature.

If you would like to read more of the World’s Worst Weather, at the Mount Washington Observatory

Courtesy of wyndham108

During the 70’s I spent one winter in Aspen Colorado skiing, Alpine skiing, cross-country skiing, but most of all Backcountry skiing alone. It was extremely risky because of sudden storms and avalanches that can tear down the steep valley walls that tower thousands of feet from above. Most skiers preferred the luxury of a chairlifts so it wasn't unusual to have the backcountry to yourself. The one valley I remember the most was the Conundrum Trail to the Conundrum Hot Springs

8.5 miles up at an elevation of 11,200 feet, the highest natural hot springs in North America. A summer hike is considered moderate to strenuous, in winter you feel like you’re running a gauntlet of snow bridges over the creeks, avalanche debris spreading across the valley and cornices hanging menacingly from the mountain ridges. But the reward at the top of the trail was the Conundrum Hot Springs where there are several pools hewn from craters and fed by plastic pipe, some larger than others and varying in temperature from 102°F to 105°F. Time Magazine called a dip in these natural pools one of 50 Authentic American Experiences.
But for the winter backcountry skier not only the soothing soak with the fantastic view, but the reward of an 8 mile downhill run.
I’ve been up there several times including a summer trip which is a story for another time. But one of the most exciting times was when I took five or six airline pilots who were on furlough from various airlines during the oil embargo, up the Conundrum trail with perfect conditions in 5 inches of fresh powder. They all skied well but had very little backcountry experience. We were half way up the trail and I thought best to head higher above the valley floor where fir and aspen trees provided shelter from the wind and kept us clear from slide zones. It was a good place to take a break and have a snack. We were sitting there listening to their war stories when all of a sudden the sound of a crack of thunder and its continuing rumble stop us dead. One of the fellows said “wow… thunder this time of year?” I said “that’s not thunder, everybody grab a tree.” Just then a huge avalanche swept down a chute not 20 yards away. The slide crashed down the mountain side across the valley floor and up the other side. We stood there looking at the devastation below dumbfounded with several inches of snow covering us and our equipment from the slide. Glancing back at one another we all started to laugh, at the same time the realization hit how lucky we were and not to be a statistic.
The rest of the climb was uneventful; the springs were covered over in deep snow drifts which we collapsed using ski poles. I don’t know if it was exhaustion or the earlier excitement, but we all sat there soaking in silence as if in a trance looking down at the view below from the best natural infinity pool in the world.

For more information on Regulations and for a Conundrum Creek Trail Guide go to The United States Department of Agriculture Forest Service website: (Click Here)

photo courtesy of travelblat.com

Travelling cross country and in no particular hurry, I stopped in Denver to meet up with a college buddy. Things got a little boring there and the Rockies just to the west were just too hard to resist. My passion was skiing and Aspen was just over the horizon, had to go. The 70’s were a time when idealistic baby boomers were leaving the cities disillusioned with the Vietnam War and the straight-laced conformity of their parents’ generation. This would be like the meeting of the tribes on skis in an old mining town. The plan was to find work so the funds wouldn’t be depleted. Bartenders seemed to be a good source for leads, so my first stop was the Hotel Jerome Bar. The bartender there mentioned the Ptarmigan lodge might be looking for help.

Living out of a VW camper was a stylish way to travel but I needed a shower to be more presentable for my potential new job. I headed south out of town towards the pass where there was an isolated spot along the Roaring Fork River, “this will do”.
Now the air temperature was about 30 degrees with snow along the river’s edge, I would definitely make this quick. Stripping down I ran across twenty feet of snow and leaped into the freezing river which took my breath away. With that out of the way I was off to the Ptarmigan lodge in search for my next employment. The manager was young and very pretty in a natural counterculture kind of way, after all this was Aspen an alpine bohemia. She asked me if I knew how to make a bed? “Uhhhh sure.” Well, she said we do need a maid. “A maid?” An image of this guy 6’3” wearing a maid’s outfit duster in hand… She said, “Well what you think?” “I’ll take it!”
Job secured, let the good times roll…

image from bearsathallobay.blogspot.com

Swimming came natural to me as a kid and being underwater always had a strong appeal. I had this uncanny knack for diving deep because of an ability to hold my breath for several minutes. Living next to a lake and spending my summers at the ocean made me very relaxed in water. As a kid when the winter ice started receding on our lake, I was the first to jump in.

When I moved to Marin County years later, I continued with my love of water and learned to free dive. The rocky shore of Northern California is much different than the sandy beaches of the Atlantic. The waves, the cold water, and the lack of clear visibility made diving a challenge but the rewards were worth the risk, especially when it came to putting fresh seafood on the table. Occasionally, I would tank dive, but the effort of dragging all that equipment down steep cliffs and then getting pummeled by huge waves and loosing expensive equipment wasn’t worth it. I saved that for the tropics where the ocean is clear and warm and you can dive off a boat.

Free diving consists of floating face down breathing through your snorkel very slowly, getting relaxed almost in a Zen meditation regardless of how cold or rough the sea was, then surge downward with renewed energy. I never took up surfing but I bet it’s the same exhilaration, from a complete calm to an overwhelming rush.

Being a powerful swimmer in cold water is important, but I found staying relaxed is just as important. If you think you can over power a wave or a rip current you’re in for a big surprise. You must simply go with the flow and relax. I found myself sometimes too relaxed and not totally aware of my surroundings.

One time diving for abalone off the PaloMarin reef just north of Bolinas the town that’s not there, I was floating on my small inflatable raft waiting for my partner to get his abalone limit. The water was murky yet quite flat and I felt I could fall asleep it was so soothing. I drifted about 50 yards from shore, lying on my raft looking toward the cliffs when I felt my raft start rising over what I thought were rocks just barely below the water from a slow moving wave. Looking to my right I noticed the barnacles moving by and felt a sudden queasiness in my stomach. As I rose higher, something wasn’t quite right. At this point I noticed my partner waving so I waved back. It was then I realized those weren't rocks but a Grey Whale sliding lazily under my mat. I popped myself up, not out of fear that I was about to be swallowed like Jonas, but to take in something that was totally amazing. I swam to shore where my buddy was waiting; both of us were amazed and laughing at such a freak occurrence.

We spent the rest of the morning up on the bluff watching this whale making wide slow circles just off shore. We knew it wasn’t lost or feeding, so why was this beautiful animal just making these lazy circles so close to shore? After an hour or more it headed out to sea in search for who knows what? Maybe it was just curious and wanted to play with a helpless human.

image from bearsathallobay.blogspot.com

Swimming came natural to me as a kid and being underwater always had a strong appeal. I had this uncanny knack for diving deep because of an ability to hold my breath for several minutes. Living next to a lake and spending my summers at the ocean made me very relaxed in water. As a kid when the winter ice started receding on our lake, I was the first to jump in.

When I moved to Marin County years later, I continued with my love of water and learned to free dive. The rocky shore of Northern California is much different than the sandy beaches of the Atlantic. The waves, the cold water, and the lack of clear visibility made diving a challenge but the rewards were worth the risk, especially when it came to putting fresh seafood on the table. Occasionally, I would tank dive, but the effort of dragging all that equipment down steep cliffs and then getting pummeled by huge waves and loosing expensive equipment wasn’t worth it. I saved that for the tropics where the ocean is clear and warm and you can dive off a boat.

Free diving consists of floating face down breathing through your snorkel very slowly, getting relaxed almost in a Zen meditation regardless of how cold or rough the sea was, then surge downward with renewed energy. I never took up surfing but I bet it’s the same exhilaration, from a complete calm to an overwhelming rush.

Being a powerful swimmer in cold water is important, but I found staying relaxed is just as important. If you think you can over power a wave or a rip current you’re in for a big surprise. You must simply go with the flow and relax. I found myself sometimes too relaxed and not totally aware of my surroundings.

One time diving for abalone off the PaloMarin reef just north of Bolinas the town that’s not there, I was floating on my small inflatable raft waiting for my partner to get his abalone limit. The water was murky yet quite flat and I felt I could fall asleep it was so soothing. I drifted about 50 yards from shore, lying on my raft looking toward the cliffs when I felt my raft start rising over what I thought were rocks just barely below the water from a slow moving wave. Looking to my right I noticed the barnacles moving by and felt a sudden queasiness in my stomach. As I rose higher, something wasn’t quite right. At this point I noticed my partner waving so I waved back. It was then I realized those weren't rocks but a Grey Whale sliding lazily under my mat. I popped myself up, not out of fear that I was about to be swallowed like Jonas, but to take in something that was totally amazing. I swam to shore where my buddy was waiting; both of us were amazed and laughing at such a freak occurrence.

We spent the rest of the morning up on the bluff watching this whale making wide slow circles just off shore. We knew it wasn’t lost or feeding, so why was this beautiful animal just making these lazy circles so close to shore? After an hour or more it headed out to sea in search for who knows what? Maybe it was just curious and wanted to play with a helpless human.

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