For the first time since before the pandemic, the door to South America, the Andes, and the ultimate bucket list of the August ski vacation is open. The experience of ditching the dog days of summer for some Andean descents, Chilean wines, and Argentine steaks is a must-do—and now is the time. The snow is really stacking up down there this season, with Portillo and Valle Nevado receiving around 30 inches of freshies just this week.

Ready to book your ticket but not sure where to start? Ski areas in South America are scattered along the flanks of the Andean cordillera, from Chile’s capital down to the very southern tip of Argentina. We’ve highlighted a few of the largest, easiest to access, and most notable resorts out of the bunch. Lift ticket prices can fluctuate during different parts of the season and sometimes day of the week along with currency exchange rates—but even then, tickets are still dramatically cheaper than at North American resorts. Here are our picks for some of the Southern Cone’s brightest stars, and well-worth ditching those sweltering summer days.

• Highest lift-served elevation: 10,860 feet
• Vertical drop: 2,745 feet
• Number of runs: 35
• Number of lifts: 14
• Skiable acres: 1,235
• Average annual snowfall: 260 inches
• Day lift pass: $48 USD

It’s not the biggest, but is the most legendary ski area in the Andes for good reason: You will find nothing lacking, least of all the skiing. The iconic canary yellow hotel welcomes travelers to the high (or alta) cordillera, boasting skiing for everyone—steeps for freeriders, exhilarating groomers for World Cup racers, and scenic pistes for genteel schussers.

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Don’t miss the classic Lake Run or the Roca Jack, a multi-person platter lift commonly referred to as a slingshot that’s unique to Portillo’s steeps. Kiddos (and big people!) will enjoy skiing through an actual train tunnel. Lunch and a beer in the sun at Tio Bob’s is a must-do, as is a relaxing evening with a pisco sour in hand at the Portillo Bar.

Both on and off the hill, you’ll find a vibrant, joyful surfeit of international ski bums and upper-crust ski culture crammed happily into a few isolated buildings and some of the most glorious ski runs in the world.

• Highest lift-served elevation: 12,038 feet
• Vertical drop: 2,657 feet
• Number of trails: 39
• Number of lifts: 14
• Skiable acres: 2,200
• Average annual snowfall: 276 inches
• Day lift pass: from $57 USD

This classic, family-friendly South American ski area and international destination resort is about 40 miles from the airport and Chile’s capital city, Santiago—but a 90-minute drive thanks to a harrowing two-lane access road that switchbacks up into the alpine. On arrival, you’re welcomed by a series of hotel buildings perched on a scenic alpine plateau along with wide-open ski runs as far as the eye can see. Slopeside hot tubs and sunny decks beckon for après libations and fantastic people watching.

For the adventurous, borders two other interconnected ski areas, El Colorado and La Parva (see below), which together with Valle Nevado have become known as the Tres Valles. Buy a multi-area ticket to access all three resorts and a combined 7,000 acres of skiable terrain.

• Highest lift-served elevation: 10,934 feet
• Vertical drop: 1,912 feet
• Number of trails: 101
• Number of lifts: 14
• Skiable acres: 2,300
• Average annual snowfall: 300 inches
• Day lift pass: from $54 USD

It’s not that big, despite the number of named pistes relative to its neighbors, but like Valle Nevado, offers loads of wide-open, fun shredding options—and if the backcountry is your jam, excellent out-of-bounds access as well as a maintained inbounds snow park.

• Highest lift-served elevation: 11,909 feet
• Vertical drop: 3,150 feet
• Skiable acreage: 2,471
• Number of trails: 20
• Number of lifts: 14
• Average annual snowfall: 300 inches
• Day lift pass: from $42 USD (prices are lower Monday-Thursday)

A (semi) under-the-radar favorite of freeskiing pros (stars such as have chosen to hold freeride camps here), La Parva offers fun above-treeline skiing, and a bounty of exciting hike-to backcountry terrain. It also has fewer international visitors, giving it a boutique insider’s feel.

• Highest lift-served elevation: 7,200 feet
• Vertical drop: 3,300 feet
• Skiable acreage: 1,350
• Number of pistes: 20
• Number of lifts: 13
• Average annual snowfall: 360 inches
• Day lift pass: From $45 USD

For skiers who want to get off the beaten path—like a few hundred miles south of the capital—this snowy ski resort boasts thermal hot springs, unforgettable mossy glades, and plentiful powder. Less dramatic than the alta cordillera near Santiago, here cone volcanos and old-growth forests provide a magical feeling. And did we mention hot springs? After all, it’s at the base of an active volcano.

Bonus: Chillan offers cat skiing, and adventurous skiers should head for the large swaths named “Area Freeride,” while beginners enjoy the “Snowy Forest” area. Soak in the thermal water park at the base. Four miles below the base area and hotels is the sleepy little town of Las Trancas, with hotels, guesthouses, restaurants, and where most local skiers live. Unlike many South American ski areas, which don’t have local ski communities, you’ll run into a local vibe here.

• Highest lift-served elevation: 6,725 feet
• Vertical drop: 3,280 feet
• Skiable acreage: 1,500
• Number of lifts: 34
• Average annual snowfall: 240 inches
• Day lift pass: $76

Catedral is often considered the best ski resort in South America, and for good reason. It’s got featured steeps like the Zona la Laguna, epic treeskiing in the Zona Second Lomo, and wide open groomers. Park skiers can head to the Triple Park. The surrounding mountains are jaw-dropping—the abundant spiky granite spires gave Catedral ( or “cathedral”) its name.

The base area has lodging, restaurants, and après spots. Best of all, it’s just seven miles from the small, bustling city of San Carlos de Bariloche, which is easy to fly right into from Buenos Aires. Set on the shore of Lago Nahuel Huapi, this glittering little city is the epicenter of a strong, century-old tradition of alpinism and skiing brought over by Central European immigrants. It’s also known for wine, steak, meat, chocolate, and ice cream, but don’t forget to check out local favorite and brewpub, Cervecería La Cruz.

• Highest lift-served elevation: 11,253 feet
• Vertical drop: 3,904 feet
• Number of trails: 27
• Number of lifts: 14
• Average annual snowfall: 250 inches
• Day lift pass: from $48 USD

Las Lenãs is a legend in the world of freeskiing. It’s the kind of place that’ll make you yawn at , swear off , and never toss another dime to commercial heli skiing. It’s lift-accessed glory with Andean vistas you’ll never forget—all above treeline and pretty much in the middle of nowhere.

If it’s not too windy or socked in, head to the Marte chairlift for big freeride lines. If that lift isn’t running due to weather (which happens often), try Cenidor off Caris lift, or skier’s left off Vulcano lift to Mercurio and Paraiso. There’s a lot for kids to do too, with gentle base area runs and groomers. The base area is typical: a few hotels, a small casino, and some restaurants (get breakfast at the Innsbruck). Nightlife consists of one option, but when you have the UFO Point disco, you don’t need more.

The post 7 South American Ski Resorts to Satisfy Your Summer Powder Craving appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.

Starting next winter, Vail Resorts’ĚýEpic PassĚý($939) gets you access to 67Ěýresorts. Alterra’s Ikon Pass,Ěýjust $10 more,Ěýis good for unlimited days at 14ĚýNorth American resorts. The season pass is truly having a heyday.

Recently, Marc Peruzzi argued in şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř that this massive consolidation occuring across the ski industry is a great thing for core skiers. His argument was essentially that skiing, overall, is getting cheaper.

OK, sure. But the cost issue is a lot more complicated when you dig into it.ĚýThe relatively cheap passes that result from the industry’s consolidation are a great deal—if they existed in a vacuum. But they don’t.

Vail Resorts is a publicly traded company with a current market capitalization hovering near $8 billion. Alterra is a privately owned entity reportedly worth around $4 billion. Why aren’t core skiers,Ěýthe people who live in ski towns,Ěýhappy that gigantic business interests seem suddenly aligned with their own?Ěý

To start, these companies grew as large as they did by acquiring other resorts, a trend that began in the 1980s. That development, as Peruzzi rightly notes, has led to homogenized ski areas and coddled, tepid so-called “experiences” for weak skiers with strong wallets. There is certainly more to the story than these easy targets.Ěý

In the wake of Vail’s 2017 acquisition of Stowe, in Vermont, real estate prices, which weren’t cheap before, rose notably, according to Gayle Oberg ofĚýthe locally basedĚýLittle River Realty. “There’s been a significant difference.ĚýPrices are as high as we’ve seen,” saysĚýOberg, who originally moved to Stowe to ski bum in 1973. Big Sky, Montana, was recently added to the Ikon Pass network, and already locals are feeling the housing squeeze. “All the affordable long-term rentals we had before this year are now off the market and seem to be on VRBO,”Ěýsaid a longtime local and resort employee,Ěýwho requested anonymity for fear of losing their job. “It’s priced out all the people that support this town. I know of resort employees living inĚýtents in the forest. People here are really pissed off.” One could blame global market forces and nationwide shortages for housing crunches (and they would not be totallyĚýwrong), but massive pass systems bringing largeĚýswarms of people to smallĚýmountain towns certainly don’t help.Ěý

To be clear, I’m not arguing that any ski corporationĚýhas a duty as a fairy godmother to ski culture, soul skiers,Ěýor the surrounding communities. Vail’s duty is a fiduciary one—to its shareholders. Alterra also has investors. They aren’t responsible for anyone’s ski dreams. But, while Peruzzi may tell us they are “throwing [core skiers] a lifeline,”Ěýthey’re certainly not doing that either.

For about seven years, residents of Squaw Valley, California—core skiers if there ever were any—have worked to oppose a huge development proposal at the base of Squaw by KSL Capital, a founding partner of Alterra. They fear thousands of more tourists, heavier traffic, high-rise hotels, a lower quality of life, and significant environmental impacts. According to Squaw icon Robb Gaffney, locals raised half a million dollars to support the incorporation of Olympic Valley, the community in Placer County that houses Squaw. As a municipality, they could deny the project. “Everyone donated, even waitresses throwing in $20. And we were just bulldozed over,”Ěýhe said. “KSL spent nearly a million dollars to thwart a democratic process through legal maneuvers. It’s really different when you’re facing a multibillion-dollar company. Even though there is huge local opposition, there is an agendaĚýand a high-powered legal battle to take [the development] to the finish line.” Alterra’s president, David Perry, saidĚýin an e-mail that while his company supports each resort “having significant local decision making and keeping the resort and community working together as best they can,”Ěýthe situation at Squaw is “a different topic with its own complexities.”ĚýA cheaper season pass seems like small consolation for giving up control of your community.

For the industry, perhaps the biggest casualty of the mega pass has been the single-day lift ticket. A day pass at Vail recently hit $209. Compare that to a day pass at some world-class mountains in ($55), ($40), ($70), or ($50). At the same time, average accommodation prices at western U.S. resorts haveĚýrisen 30 percentĚýin the last eight years.ĚýIt’s no wonder that annual U.S. skier days have dipped over the last 20 years.

“The U.S. ski industry is facing… increasing prices, paid by a declining number of customers,” analysts wroteĚýin the . “This tends to make ski[ing] less affordable… especially for the beginners, who usually purchase daily passes…. The business model of the large U.S. resorts [can be summarized as trying to get] always more money from always less customers.”Ěý

Vail Resorts has long been the butt of skier’s jokes, for its expensive, bland, and commercial reputation. Peruzzi cheerily writes thatĚý“with shareholders calm, the company can invest in better grooming, new lifts and restaurants, and staffing.” Staffing, you say? , Vail reportedly tried involuntarily cramming 100 more beds into its Keystone employee housing. The plan was to add two more residents perĚýselect two- and three-bedroom units, increasingĚýthe occupancy of those to four-Ěýand five-person units, respectively, creating a college-dorm-like situation. Ěýthat offered employees “financial incentives”—employees were to be charged $330 each in the increased-occupancy rooms, instead of $460. However, if you do the math, the total rent for each unit would actually increase by $270 for a three-bedroom unit and $400 for a two-bedroom unit. Maybe you think saving $130 on rent is a good thing (and worth taking on a roommate for). I disagree. So did the staff, whichĚýhad a fit until the resort quicklyĚýbackpedaled.

Vail quietly got what it wanted six months later by pressuring the county to allow the “temporary” employee density, which itĚýthen tried to extend in September 2018. Luckily, county commissioners . The company has also made a point of publicizing its $30 million pledge for employee housing, made in 2015. However, whether the company has upheld that pledge has .

AndĚýanyway, $30 million doesn’t actually equate to much when it’s spread across the company’s wide portfolio of resorts. Vail ResortsĚýactually cost that would bolster the company’s chances of receiving approval to include low-income rentals in its new employee-housing development in Keystone (meant to alleviate some of the housing issues that contributed to the aforementionedĚýcontroversy), leaving the taxpayers on the line. Meanwhile, Vail just announced an approximate $180 million commitmentĚýto by upgrading lifts, on-mountain dining, and other superimportant stuff. Peruzzi’s implication that the company cares about investing in its staff—writing that “the big companies have brought better jobs”—is laughable. Those better jobs are in Broomfield, not Breckenridge, and the money from your mega pass is padding the pockets of executives, not the average worker, whoĚýdeserves to be treated fairly. Ěý

. ButĚýindependent ski areasĚýdo still exist—for now. And skiers and riders can still support them with their wallets. At these ski areas, there may still beĚýbars at the base that haven’t been converted to genteel, pricey aprèsĚýbistrosĚýand are fun and rowdy enough to actually sell you theĚýcheap PBR that Peruzzi suggests season pass holders can buy with their extra money.

The post Actually, the Mega Season Pass Is Killing Skiing appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.

Some people developed their love for the outdoors early because they grew up with parents or family friends who took them camping for fun.ĚýThey didn’t spend college mystified by the thought of pitching a tent or operating a camp stove, and they definitely don’t throw all hygiene best practices out after six hours in the woods.

That’s nice. Some of us need some more help, though,Ěýand have had to conduct our own experiments on how to keep (relatively) clean and healthy while traipsing about the backcountry.ĚýThe good news is it’s not that hard. Over the years, I’veĚýperfected my hygieneĚýcamping kit to balance the wonders of getting filthy and muddy in nature without totally ditching modern cleanliness.

Camp Comb 22 TitaniumĚý(From $45)

Unless you’re going for Instagram-selfie stardom, it’s worth it to mostly let your hair do its thing in the backcountry, the one place where it can get greasy without eliciting societal shame. But you’ve got to stay up on grooming, and massaging your scalp with a good comb after days in braids, hats, and helmets is ecstasy.ĚýI love Metal Comb Works’ titanium-alloy . It’s light, won’t break even if you stuff it in the bottom of your pack, sports a whimsical cutout design, and feels so good after a sweaty hike. Measuring just fiveĚýinches by oneĚýinch, it’s not cumbersome tied toĚýa toiletry bag or a strap.

Primal Pit Paste PoPo PowderĚý(From $13)

Women are mostly onto the much touted pee rag (a reusable cloth rag kept on the outside of a pack) to help keep odors at bay in a simple, hygienic way. But powders made for the nether regions completeĚýthe aroma-fighting one-two punch on outings that last longerĚýthan a couple of days. Primal Pit Paste’s all-natural Ěýdoes just the trick by absorbing moisture. I’ve used it year-round—in hiking shorts, long underwear, and sports bras—and it also helps reduce chafing.

PackTowl NanoĚý($10) andĚýEpic WipesĚý($25 for a Ten-Pack)

Rinsing off in the wild sounds exhilarating and primal, but sometimesĚýit’s cold, and you don’t want to go anywhere near a frigid snowmelt creek. Nonetheless, a wipe down is refreshing, plusĚýyou won’t fill your sleeping bag with dirt. If you’re near water, a small, quick-dryĚýwashcloth like the face-sizeĚý is sufficient. If you’re not, can get the job done. These reusable cloths are ampleĚý(large is 26 inches by 12 inches and extra largeĚýisĚýabout 32 inches by 20 inches) andĚýmade with natural bamboo fibers and oils. You can also cut them into smaller cloths andĚýstore them in a resealable bag. Epic Wipes are biodegradable, but obviously pack them out anyway.

Ěý

Osprey Ultralight Roll OrganizerĚý($30)

Organization is key when it comes toĚýmaking backcountry hygiene as seamless as possible. If you’re like me, you just want to cocoon yourself in your sleeping bag at the end of a long day, not rummage through a pack looking for your toothbrush. I still see people using Ziplocs for toiletries, but isn’t it time weĚýditch plastic bags? Osprey’s is the solution. I insist on “excess” stuff:Ěýthe aforementioned comb,Ěýa smallĚýmirror to help me withĚýmy contacts, a tiny container of face cream, floss, and whatever little comforts I think are worth hauling into the wilderness. That’s on top of typical stuffĚýpeople pack,Ěýlike toothpaste and a brush, sanitizer, ibuprofen, hair ties, aspirin, and eye drops. All are nicely contained in here—no rummaging required.

Patagonia Sunshade Hoodie ($69) andĚýIcebreaker Cool-Lite Long Sleeve CreweĚý($110)

You know whatĚýthe best way is to get filmy, sticky, dirt-speckled sunblock off your skin? Don’t apply it in the first place. I wouldn’t ditch it altogether, but I’ve found myself moving away from dipping my whole body in sunscreen. Having biked epics with a friend who, after a bout of skin cancer,Ěýwears sun shirts during her outdoor activities, I’ve taken to the garments, too. There’s less to haul, less to worry about when it comes to reapplication, and better overall protection. I have friends who use button-ups from the thrift store, but you can upgrade to something like Ěýor—my new favorite—the Ěý(made with natural wool and Tencel so you won’t even leaveĚýplastic microfibers behind). I love theĚýdrape of the Crewe’s fabricĚýand the soft, light feel, almost like air on your skin, so you’re not tempted to strip it off in the heat.

Ěý

The post The Tools You Need to Stay Clean in the Backcountry appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.

In 2015, two Wisconsin State legislators to legalize blaze pink as safety gear for hunters, along with the traditional blaze orange, in hope that it would bring more women to hunting.ĚýThis was a great idea because everybody knows that if you make something pink, of course women will be attracted to it. And even though Wisconsin hunters, including women who previously hunted without pink safety gear, swiftly opposed the bill—and national women’s hunting groups called the bill misguided, insulting, and demeaning—the measure was passed into law.

Since then, well-meaning but seemingly clueless legislators have kept pushing pink in hunting; fluorescent pink debates have clogged up legislation in states including New York, Louisiana, Virginia, Michigan, Colorado, and Montana—with some failing and some passing. The latest to consider the measure is Wyoming, where currently about 20 percent of hunters are women.

The recent Wyoming bill was introduced, with two co-sponsors, by Laramie County Senator Affie Ellis, who said the issue was brought to her by some constituents. Senator EllisĚýis not a hunter herselfĚýbut said she was impressed by the Wisconsin bill sponsors. The focus of the study, conducted by UW-Madison textile scientist Mahjid Sarmadi, was not whether pink drives female participation but color visibility. Sarmadi concluded that blaze pink is just as visible, and sometimes more visible, than blaze orange.Ěý

But my question is this: If pink really is safer than orange, why aren’t all hunters wearing it? Instead, this bill is paraded as a women’s choice and participation issue.

Oddly, I haven’t met any women who’ve said they’dĚýgo hunting if only the safety color wasn’t limited to that dreadful orange. Could it be that training, scouting, shooting practice, buying a tag, 4 a.m. wake-ups, crawling around inhospitable wilderness areas stalking wary prey, killing a living creature, field dressing, and laboriously packing hundreds of pounds of meat while covered in blood and dirt would be more broadly appealing with more feminine safety colors?

To take a step back, the original intent of blaze orange is so rifle hunters don’t mistake each other for deer and shoot at each other. (The question of why you would shoot at something you are not 100 percent sure is the animal named on your hunting tag, orange-clad or not, does seem like a valid question.) But whether orange looks good with your complexion or your outfit is not the point.

Rather than dealing with the laundry list of real problems facing states, lawmakers decided to create a new, heretofore unknown issue, and one that ultimately serves to make women in hunting look as frivolous as possible. Clearly, this is an optimal time for lawmakers to focus on what fashions in hunting are safe and pretty. It’s not like American public lands, natural wildlife habitat, and preservation measures are facing the most dire threats in a century right now, from extractive industrial greed, mismanagement, human population sprawl, and a Secretary of the Interior with his very own interpretation of land conservation.

The majority of the hunting industry itself has provided serious support without pursuing a patronizing, debasing color scheme. This bill takes a step back, erasing the recent progress women have made in hunting.

You can support companies that support women as hunters, not as a special handicapped group in need of color support. Hunting companies and make women’s camouflage clothing with no pink—not even an accent. It’s apparently very popular, and according to First Lite, women thank them for making hunting clothes in women’s sizes and leave it at that.

Sure, not every brand in the industry believes women should be on the hunt. (Note KUIU, whose founder stated in a he would not make clothing for women in order to keep the brand “aspirational.”) But as the in the industry, women are in fact in the field, demonstrating thoroughĚýknowledge of animal behavior, terrain, stalking, focus, and good aim. And pink isn’t helping them win those battles.

The post No, Wyoming. Women Don’t Need to Wear Pink to Hunt. appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.

Last Sunday, 38-year old pro skier Jamie Pierre died in Utah’s Little Cottonwood Canyon. He was skiing inbounds at , a resort in the Wasatch Range which hasn't opened or begun avalanche control work. While his partner watched, Pierre dropped into a shady, northwest-facing 40-degree slope. The snow immediately cracked through to the ground, releasing an avalanche with a 150-foot-wide crown. It barreled Pierre 800 vertical feet down through a landscape of trees and small cliffs, according to the .

Gadd Valley

The crown of the avalanche that killed Jamie Pierre

Facets

Facets forming on the surface/cold air interface

Facets in detail

Facets

Ěý

Area avalanche bulletins for the day rated the risk of avalanche activity at considerable to high based on the thin snowpack and base layers of loose, so-called faceted snow and crust. Pierre’s slide started when a slab released on a buried layer of faceted, unstable snow. (When snow first falls, it is usually as classic small, symmetrical snowflakes, but under certain conditions the flakes can grow into weaker, irregularly shaped crystals that don’t bond well.) Many skiers were out touring in the vicinity of Pierre’s accident, and numerous skier-triggered slides were reported.

All the slides ran on the same weak, faceted interfaces near the ground. “Everything at Alta that had a slope angle had a crown,” says Drew Hardesty, a forecaster at the and one of the investigators of the fatal avalanche. Ěý

The reality that last weekend’s events in the Wasatch made clear is that despite the hype of another La Niña, this season’s snowpack is not shaping up to be the stable, deep powder heaven of the past couple of seasons. Throughout the Intermountain West, states like Montana, Wyoming, and Colorado have seen similar weather patterns as in Utah: early snows followed by cold, clear weather. Observations of the volatility of the weak layers under the snow—such as off Teton Pass, Wyoming—have many avalanche and backcountry experts worried about skiers with early-season powder fever and the effect on the rest of ski season.

Dangerous, weak, and persistent snow layers near the ground form what is called an upside-down snowpack—a loose configuration of crystals that must support the weight of all successive snowfall. , such as the one that caused Pierre’s fatal slide, form when exposed snow is subjected to the extreme temperature gradient between the warmer earth and colder air for periods of time between storms. This creates an unstable base that may remain under the snow for the rest of the season. The weight of more snow, or a skier, can cause these weak layers to fracture—imagine trying to build a brick house on a base of styrofoam peanuts. Varying temperatures early this season have also led to melt-freeze crusts. Snow from subsequent storms won’t be able to form strong bonds with this slick material.

The was the most recent season with an upside-down snowpack. The early-season layers proved to be incredibly unstable. Even in-bounds avalanche control did not reign in it, resulting in three fatalities inside ski resorts. But the extreme volatility kept many out of the backcountry altogether, and the season's 27 fatalities remained near the U.S. average of 25, according the .

In general, the past few seasons in the Intermountain West saw a right side-up snowpack, where continuous snowfall didn’t allow for dangerous layers to form. Successive mid- and late-winter storms piled on top of that sturdier base. This season, forecasters have been observing facets and slick crusts near the bottom layers of this season’s snowpack—which isn’t entirely unusual. Some seasons, these heal up with the right temperatures and storm conditions, says Hardesty. But sometimes they persist, creating widespread instabilities through the winter.

In this kind of upside-down situation, “no matter how good the snowpack builds above it, it is still on a poor foundation,” says Don Sharaf, co-owner of the American Avalanche Institute. “It’s too early to write off the winter season, but it merits caution.”

Around Christmas, forcasters will gain a better understanding of whether the poor basal structure has bonded or it's likely to remain a problem the entire season. Warmer storms, such as rain that turns immediately to snow, can force the weak layers to bond somewhat, and the weight of successive storms can cause avalanches that will take out the problem layers altogether, giving the snowpack a fresh start. “What we need is for it to start storming, or even come in warm to stabilize the facets, and then keep storming,” says the UAC’s Hardesty.

The blissful, right-side-up snowpacks and deep powder that the West enjoyed the past two seasons, especially during the strong La Niña of last season, may have served to allow some skiers to get away with less cautious behavior. Some avalanche experts believe this mentality, in part, led to the dozens of riders rushing out to ski powder in Little Cottonwood Canyon last weekend in spite of the warning signs. “We get habituated to a stable snowpack, and then suddenly, in the same place, with the same people, it is not stable,” says Bruce Tremper, director of the UAC. “We learn our lessons, forget, and learn them again.”

What the snow will end up doing this season—whether it remains as unstable as was seen in Utah last weekend or stabilizes—is not easy to predict.

The easy part, according to CAIC forecaster Tim Brown, is keeping an eye on the conditions that get people into trouble. “Facets or windslabs in a thin snowpack or that persist—that is problematic,” says Brown. “People need to assess what is out there and not make decisions based on what worked last year or in a different snow climate.”

That’s worth saying again, according to the avalanche forecasters interviewed for this story. Aside from watching the snowpack and paying attention to avalanche conditions, people need to make evidence-based decisions on their own. Don’t rely on crowds to estimate the level of dangers. “Humans have a herding instinct—if you see 200 people going in front of you toward familiar terrain, you might think it is safe,” says Tremper.

Individuals venturing into the backcountry should take an and use the skills they learn every time they venture out. Tremper suggests using a checklist to assess avalanche danger, so you can make good decisions without thinking emotionally about powder or what other groups are doing.

“It doesn’t even matter what you think the snowpack is doing,” says Tom Bennett, a Jackson Hole, Wyoming, alpine and heli-ski guide who works in South America and Alaska.Ěý “If you decide to go out, you can’t let your guard down, and you need to be prepared for the worst.”

The post Forecasting Avalanches appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.

When Utah runner Hobie Call received an e-mail from a friend telling him to check out a series called Spartan Races, he clicked on the link to the races, saw an image of a mud-spattered girl crawling under barbed wire, and almost immediately brushed it off as “not his style.” Then he noticed that organizers were offering $100,000 to anyone who could win all 14 races in a year, including the grueling multi-day Death Race. The competitions involve a variety of challenges: 3-to-12-mile runs, wood chopping, boulder moving, river swims, and even board games and puzzles.

Hobie Call

Mud crawling at Spartan Race

“Any weekend warrior can sign up, but it takes an extraordinary individual with unshakable discipline to actually win such a demanding event,” says competitor Alec Blenis. “The races are designed to mentally and physically break even the strongest of athletes.”

Call showed up to the start of the first race and announced that he was going to win all 14 events and take home $100,000. Roughly 57 minutes later, he crossed the finish line first.

When he won five more races, people started paying attention. He appeared in numerous national articles, including a piece on the cover of the Wall Street Journal. Race organizers were terrified Call would accomplish the goal—they never thought anyone would even take up such a challenge. Word spread that they’d tried to recruit an ex–Navy SEAL to race and beat Call. In the end, after 30-some hours in the Death Race, Call dropped out because of near hypothermia from the water obstacles.

Losing the Death Race put him of out of the running for the $100,000, but Call is continuing with the grueling races anyway. I caught up with him to find out why.

What did you think of the first race?
Well, the first race [an eight-mile obstacle course] was way more fun than I expected. I felt like a kid again—crawling under and jumping over things, running through water. And then I was in my final sprint, pushing toward the finish, and I heard these little voices calling me, “Hey, wait! You have to solve the Rubik’s Cube!” I was like, What? And so I had to run back and solve one side, and then go back to sprinting. At first I thought it was stupid, but now I think it is genius.

So the races are fun, but they are also torturous, and most don’t include prize money.
Now that I’ve lost a couple, I just want to win the rest. Being punished has never stopped me from doing anything. There’s always a bump in the road, but you can’t quit. And just in case the future doesn’t work out and I retire this year, I’m going to make sure I make the most of it. Besides, the tougher it is, the more fun I have;ĚýI really am having the time of my life. The final race of the year has a $20,000 prize, so if I have a good day there I should come away with something.

Some people speculated that the race organizers engineered the Death Race against your strengths—that they openly recruited someone to beat you.
People were saying that, but I don’t think so. The cold got to me. All of the water and coldness that was part of the race definitely didn’t favor skinny guys like me. But I don’t think they did it on purpose, no. I think he [race owner Joe DeSena] is relieved he doesn’t have to pay, but he’d have been happy if I won it all, too.

You install air-conditioning full-time and have five kids and no sponsorships. How are you staying motivated to train and race?
Even though I lost the Death Race, there’s still so much fan support, and people still want to see me race. That’s something I didn’t expect. If nobody cared, it’d be hard to stay motivated. Sometimes I come home and there is a check in the mail, for $10, or a $100, to help with expenses. A businessman, Rob Eberle in Boston, liked my story and has helped me out a lot. He just wanted to be able to show his clients and employees that he’s helping me out and that he wants his company to live by the motto that they will do anything to be the best—like how I have to be able to do anything to win these races. He asked me what it would take to be able to continue racing and then agreed to sponsor me for five races. Even the race organizers are helping me get to races now, too.Ěý

I’m not going to quit my job or anything, but I am getting by now, and it is easy to get to the events. My boss has been really good about giving me days off that I need, but we are so busy. If I don’t need them off, I don’t take them. But it would have been nice at the last race to have another day or two and not show up on the East Coast at 9:15 p.m. the night before the race—that’s not great if you want to do your best.

Where does training fit in to all this?
To train I used to get up at 3:30 a.m. before work, but this whole year I have been training after work. It’s tough. My workouts are quite epic. Ninety percent of people I know . I do interval running with a weight vest, and a lot of lunges. Then I do upper body workouts. And my kids were really supportive, until we sold our TV to buy a plane ticket to the third Spartan Race. Then they were a little less supportive. But then Joe DeSana said if I lost the Death Race, he’d buy us a new TV. So he bought us a 55-inch one to replace our 27-inch one.

What’s the next step for you?
I might do the Spartan Races next year. I’m trying to get them to do the $100,000 challenge again, but I think they are just going to offer prize money at each. I’m not sure. I do have a marathon project I want to do, though.

You’re going to run a bunch of marathons?
Not exactly. My goal is to break two hours in the marathon.

Wait. What?
(The world record is 2:03:59.)
I was on track to run a 2:13 marathon a year ago, but then I got injured. My best time so far was 2:16 a couple years ago. That was all while working full time. So I think I can do it. I just need the opportunity. What I hope for is financial support so I can work out full time. Technically, it’s so I can properly rest between workouts. I can break two hours. I have the knowledge. I have the discipline. I have the right attitude. All I need is the opportunity to train full time for one and a half to two years. Eighty thousand dollars is nothing. Countries and organizations have spent millions trying to accomplish what I can do for mere pocket change. Maybe that’s why I keep running all of the races:Ěýin the hope that someone will believe in me.

(In case you wanted to know more about Call—like we did after he answered that last question—here you go: Call holds the Guinness World Recordsfor fastest mile of lunges, which he then repeated wearing a 40 pound weight vest, although Guinness didn’t accept that record. He also qualified for the 2008 Olympic trials in distance running and set the course record at the 2007 Top of Utah Marathon with a time of 2:16:38.)

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