Category Archives: Uncategorized

I think I’ve always been a fairly motivated person – at least when it comes to pursuing my passions – but I’m starting to think I have a threshold of motivation available. I think the threshold can fluctuate up or down, but if I exceed the threshold, it could result in a full on breakdown of all motivation until I’ve laid in bed staring at my phone for an hour before calling it a day and thinking I’ll just start over tomorrow.

In 2012 I was at the inaugural SheJumps Alpine Finishing School. I met a professional skier named Sandra Lahnsteiner out of Austria. Like me, she was in her 30s and in a long stable relationship. We talked about being skiers and having kids and she expressed that she is a passionate person and knows that her passion would move from skiing to being a mom as soon as she had kids. I agreed that the scenario was likely and we both held off on having kids for years to keep skiing until in 2015, I had the triplets. Now I had 3 babies to test the theory with – would I be able to balance 2 passions?

My kids are 3 now and they are as fun as ever and this is the first time I’m finding my passions collide. I love spring skiing and adventuring but as a working mom, I already have a limited time with my kids… and there are 3 of them! They are already a bit shortchanged in the individual attention department. I recently read this article by John John Florence and felt very inspired to keep my passion for skiing strong in hopes they may find the same passion for the outdoors.

The ski season started slow this year, but it was great for toddler skiing. Consequentially, I skied about 2/3rds as much as usual. I barely skied any backcountry, but I did have a few high quality days. I recently went to the Eastern Sierra which is skiing really well about 9000 feet – I’d love to get a few more days down there, but missing full days and nights with my kids not only takes a toll on them and my husband, it takes a toll on me!

I also have had the goal of skiing Mt. Rainier for a while now and just haven’t been able to make it happen. I thought it might line up this year, but the partners I had lined up had to change plans and admittedly, with other adulting to do and not wanting to leave my kids again, I happily accepted the delay. Maybe next year.

I have a tendency to think even if I do one new thing a year, it’s been a successful year. I don’t feel I have anything to hang my hat on yet this year, but I did manage to ski a few new lines – unknown couloir on Mt. Dana, a few lines on Emerald Bay I had yet to ski, and a lot of new things at Revelstoke – which should be a whole other blog post.

Maybe 3 toddlers and working full time is my motivation threshold. Maybe it’s enough to just be in a holding pattern for these next few years. And then, I have a good day, where I still have motivation left in the bank at the end of the day… and that is where the plotting and planning begins. With some good parenting and a lot of luck, maybe 3 planning partners will be in my future.

 

 

Did you know it snowed a lot in 2017? Records were broken and the snowpack loomed into July. Mammoth had one of their latest closing dates ever, closing August 6th. Back in 2010-2011, I completed 12 months of skiing at least one time per month – referred to as “turns all year” in the ski community. However, I don’t think these 12 months fell in 1 calendar year… well, because humans are obsessed with numbers, I thought I might try to go for a calendar year. It just seemed too easy!

June 20, 2017 – Skied Shasta, Hotlum ridge from the summit, see previous post.

July 12, 2017 – visited Mammoth Mountain with my husband for our 9 year anniversary day date. Skied 8-noon, followed by some food and beers at the June Lake Brewery and adjacent Ohanas 395 Food Truck (best place ever). And some fly fishing. Possibly my favorite anniversary trip ever. I hope it keeps getting better!

August 21, 2017 – hiked and skied Lassen Peak during the solar eclipse. The sun was only about 90% obscured, but the there was a fun crew up there, a nip in the air when it happened and about 3,000 vert of decent summer skiing with a good crew!

September 9, 2017 – My new ski buddy from the Lassen adventure and I headed out to Ebbett’s Pass and shralped some turns and even fit in a pond skim knocking off the usually difficult month of September.

It’s October 1 and I just have to find a few turns and then I’m in the clear to get 2017 with turns all year. What a silly, meaningless exercise, but it’s great to have goals and nearly impossible to not have fun while doing something you love.

After an extraordinarily successful spring traveling to Greenland via sailboat and skiing first descents as a member of the Shifting Ice and Changing Tides team and a Climate Reality Project Ambassador, the summer was a whirlwind of catching up with my real job and finishing a creek restoration that had been in the works for over 10 years!

Then I found out I was pregnant with triplets! More on that later.

But something else cool happened. The multi-year all female ski flick that Lynsey Dyer has been working on hit the streets and the response has been phenomenal. I was even interviewed in Powder Magazine for it! Check out page 68 of the December 2014 issue!

More on everything else later!

The days leading up to my month long trip to Kenya were fun and productive. I savored the time with my husband and dog. I rode my mountain bike as much as possible on the tacky Tahoe singletrack amidst the golden fall colors. I visited the lake and marveled at its clarity. And of course, I worked, trying to get a head start on my time away and not leave my coworkers with too much to clean up. I didn’t get to visit with too many of my close friends in Tahoe before I left and I know at least 2 who will have a brand new baby when I return.

Patrick drove me to the airport on Thursday morning. My flight was to depart at 7:15. Weighed down by 100 lbs of luggage, PK snapped a quick picture before I made my way to the Southwest counter.

Due to a low personal budget, I book the only free flight I could get to Dulles, where my flight to Nairobi would depart from. The US government has just opened back up and I’m not sure anyone was even paying attention at this point. Checking the bags and finding them both to be under 50 lbs was a relief and I made my way to the gate. I sat next to two older women off to a cruise to the Panama Canal. I regaled them with the story of my impending trip. I used to love the attention, but now I just try to deliver the message without seeming self righteous.

When we reached Vegas, I had a new seat companion. The woman was just 2 months older than my mom and had the same skin tone, plus she was a talker. I listened to all her stories as we flew over the Grand Canyon, Lake Powell, and the Rocky Mountains on the way to Chicago. Fond memories of scenic and thrilling western trips flooded my head. I had launched more than a year ago for a 17 day trip on the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon – my friend Debbie was down there right now. I hoped she was having the time of her life. I thought about the history that created “Lake” Powell and the impending ski season, remote backcountry pursuits, powder days, smiles, high fives, and then as we reached the Midwest, I thought of all the cross-country trips through the flats to get to our playground in the west. But as we approached Chicago, everything was obscured by clouds and I could almost feel a denser fall air through the plane window. The airplane busted through the clouds and the green lawns and deciduous trees of suburban Chicago came into view. And eventually the city itself and beautiful Lake Michigan – the very lake that started my love affair with lakes so many years ago. And I thought, “family is the thing that is important to me” and I started questioning the entire trip. That one Midwestern city could invoke this feeling, perplexed me, but I vowed to visit home more.

I was hoping my friend Lauren might have been able to visit me during my long layover at Midway, but the time was a bit too tight for her getting out of work, so I took care of some emails, ate at Potbelly (because I’m from the Midwest and I love these mid-level chains), and caught up with my mom on the phone. The next flight was to Dulles, the final leg of my trans-America flight. I caught an incredible glimpse of the Chicago skyline with Lake Michigan in the foreground and bid adieu as the clouds engulfed the view again. I spent much of this flight reading “ Where Men Win Glory” by John Krakauer when not distracted by the incredibly entrancing full moon out the airplane window. The moon was so bright that it was reflecting on the wing of the airplane.

When I arrived in DC, it felt both international and cosmopolitan compared to Reno and Chicago. I picked up my bags and stoically struggled up to the Qatar Airways counter where explained to the perplexed employee why I was bringing skis to Kenya. Proceeding to the TSA checkpoint, I saw an incredibly beautiful TSA agent who looked like she should have been in a Benetton catalog and not checking my ID, but I tried not to stare. She had incredible style though.

The line for this checkpoint moved at the pace of an iPhone with one bar (or the internet in Kenya, but I didn’t know this yet), but the patrons were diverse. I tried to look at everyone’s passports to see where they were from and then I started crafting stories for them. I realized could be completely wrong, but tt passed the time so much that I had to chug all of my water when I reached the front of the line. Making it through, I reluctantly passed a Chipotle, one of my favorite mid-level chains, since I knew Qatar would be feeding us on board. I had heard them boast of their 5 star food and I was intrigued when offered literally 20 different dietary restrictions/preferences when selecting my meal on-line. I called Lauren and we chatted about our last trip to Kenya 16 years ago after just graduating from high school. It was a good memory exercise. She listened to my concerns about this upcoming trip, leaving Yzie while in poor health, leaving Pat alone with Yzie, not visiting my mom enough, scraping by financially since I was somewhat misled about the cost of the trip, among others. When I hung up, I was excited and intrigued by the journey ahead and I was grateful for the phone call with one of my oldest friends before boarding the plane. Right before boarding, PK called me and they had just beat their cross-town rival and much bigger school South Tahoe! He was incredibly happy after having a disappointing week leading up to the game. I wished I could be there, but I knew he was going to be fine.

There was some confusion boarding the plane, but I found my seat and room for my carry-ons and sat down for the long flight to Doha, Qatar. John Krakauer had succeeded in pulling me into Pat Tillman story and I was interested to be flying over the Middle East, especially Iraq. I was also interested to be flying on an airline from a Muslim country, albeit a very liberal and pro-American one. Qatar is right next to Saudi Arabia, the birthplace of Osama Bin Laden. I just wished I had a window seat. The seating in economy was somewhat cramped but food service arrived promptly. I couldn’t remember what I selected from the 20 options – it may have just been vegetarian or lacto-ovo vegetarian, or maybe low fat vegetarian? I wished I had selected Indian vegetarian. That looked delicious. Next time! The fresh fruit was great through. I asked for red wine and the stewardess responded “French or Spanish” and I picked French after some hesitation. She poured me a large class and said she’d bring me some Spanish if I didn’t like that one. The alcohol question was answered, but it still didn’t seem right to over indulge en route to a Muslim country, so I stuck with one glass. Towards the end of the flight, I headed back to use the bathroom and saw them pouring out all their wine. It made me wonder if there was any significance to landing in Qatar and wine disposal.

After landing, there was some commotion. Clashing cultures of people not waiting their turn and people who believed in order. I observed, but kept my head buried in the book with the situation seemed uncomfortable. I disembarked from the plane in the outfit I’ve had on for 20(?) hours or so and the heat and humidity felt like a mid-summer Baltimore day. The flannel and scarf were certainly overkill. In Doha, the airport terminal is not yet finished, so you have to board a bus from the plan, then go through a “Short Transfer” if you have a quick layover, and then check in again and re-board a different bus to the new plane. The security was quick – no need to remove your computer or liquids, and comedy ensued when I was trying to take an escalator up to my gate. There seemed to be 5 people in front of my apprehensive to step on. Clearly they did not grow up frequenting the indoor malls of the Midwest… though if I had more time in Qatar, I’m sure there were a lot of indoor amenities due to the heat alone! I was told my flight was already boarding, but that actually meant waiting in a room for the bus to come and take us to the plane. The room was full of Kenyan men and one Kenyan woman – at least Kenyan in heritage. I knew when I saw that first electrifying Kenyan smile. The memories of my high school trip started flooding back. These people are happy and they have smiles that make you smile!

So much has happened since 1997 to make the world seem scarier and less accessible – the terrorist attacks on the US embassies in Nairobi and Dar Es Salam, 9-11, and most recently the siege of and mass shooting at the Westgate Mall not far from where I’ll be staying in Nairobi. With all of this, our trust of other cultures and races continues to erode. But we need those smiles and those foreign connections to realize we’re all brothers and sisters. And with that, I boarded a plan to Nairobi, with 23 Kenyans, and 2 other Americans and flew away from the lights of Qatar into the darkness of the Persian Gulf and the African Continent. I just wished it was still light out!

I went into this summer with the goal of learning to sail. I’ve always been in love with boats, water, and the power of wind, so it felt like a skill I needed to learn, especially living near Lake Tahoe. Add to that our upcoming expedition funded by the Polartec Challenge Grant, learning to sail, or at least crew a sailboat, became more urgent. So I contacted my friend Will and he was able to set me up with a talented captain named Steve, the rear commodore of the local yacht club.

And so my education began in June. The first thing you have to learn when you sail is to avoid the boom and don’t fall off the boat. My athleticism has helped me with that, though I’ve had a few near misses with the boom. My first day on the boat, Lake Tahoe looked like the Bering Sea, so I passed the test of staying on the boat.

The next hurdle was to understand the archaic sounding language my fellow sailors were shouting back and forth! “We’re going to weather,” “ready to tack?,” “helms alee,” “douse the jib,” “jibe-o,” and the list goes on and on. “Those aren’t ropes, they’re sheets!” “No, blow the vang, not the twinger!” One of the coolest things is realizing the influence sailing had on English linguistics “3 sheets to the wind” and “keel over” or “even keeled” for example. I have to admit, this one is a work in progress.

My mentors have told me sailing is a lifelong pursuit but that overwhelms me so instead I think of the incredible strides this summer thanks to their patience and willingness to teach. Making headway you might say!

Tonight I’m sailing in the beer can race and this weekend I’m actually headed to San Francisco to watch the top sailors compete in the America’s Cup. Once you understand sailing tactics, the races are quite exciting!

This is Patrick Orton.

I didn’t know him very long. We met during a trip to Shasta during last year’s solar eclipse. We were a large group of skiers from throughout the west – Colorado, Utah, California, Idaho, and even Alaska. We converged to ski Shasta’s famous spring corn and to witness the solar eclipse in a place known as a spiritual epicenter. Patrick dove right into the “assignment” and bonded immediately with the group. He encouraged us to flip of bridges, be silly, work it for the camera – the kid was hilarious. His persistence payed off and he took the National Geographic Extreme photo of the week and had his photos published in a writeup on TGR.

Over the year, we stayed in touch via Facebook and email. I ran into Patrick at Outdoor Retailer in February and he invited me out with his friends. In April, I hooked him up with some European ski friends of mine and he spent days photographing them in Alaska.

As recently as a few weeks ago, I contacted him to let him know we’d be traveling through his hometown in Idaho and he offered me the “grand tour.” We ran out of time and never stopped there, but, it turns out I should have. Patrick died in an accident on July 20th and it has hit the people who knew him pretty hard. He was young, but a role model for many who exemplified following your dream and doing something that scared you every day. He was outgoing and career driven, but incredibly nice and the opposite of pretentious. I’m a better person for having known him.

I’ve been thinking a lot about injuries, death, extreme sports, and social media and I haven’t quite come to a conclusion on all their connections. I know that Patrick’s death was an accident, but I also know that we are members of a community where the norm is continual progression and the line between pushing your limits and death or permanent injury is sometimes blurry. So for now, I’m reassessing my risk tolerance and trying to find fun in less risky pursuits. I’m sure there is a line, but sometimes we have to step back to see it.