And just as suddenly as winter hits, so too does the mass exodus from trails and neighborhood sidewalks into the gym. Now you have to wait 45 minutes for your favorite elliptical machine and then uncomfortably ignore the woman in the corner who has given you the stink-eye for every minute more than 30 you’ve been on your treadmill. Classes fill up, swimming laps become an exercise in underwater obstacle dodging and you have to park so far from the gym that walking from your car to the door, especially in snow, becomes a pretty good workout in and of itself.

So I ask you this: Why, oh why, don’t we just stay outside in the winter?

I discovered the joys of keeping my fitness routine outside—no matter the weather—while living in Alaska. The benefit of using weather as part of your workout—rather than a force that works against your fitness goals—is
immeasurable.

When others refer to the old adage, “The world is your oyster,” I prefer to think of the world as my gym and a snowy sidewalk or trail as my treadmill.

So, whenever I say the term “winter running,” I don’t mean heading outside when it’s 35 degrees and sunny. Sure, that counts, I guess. But I’m really talking about running outside when it’s 10 degrees and cloudy, 30 degrees with a wintry mix (if that isn’t the worst phrase in the English language, I don’t know what is), or 20 degrees with a thick sheet of ice on the ground and snow piled sporadically through every trail. And it includes those days when it looks like the trees threw up all over Boulder, when the wind feels like it will blow you over, and when most people don’t even want to walk to their cars from their front doors.

Running and persevering in this weather will give you better workouts, and it will make you feel like an all-around badass. These workouts will make your friends both question your sanity and become a little jealous. It will help prevent injuries, especially certain knee injuries and I.T. band problems associated with overuse, particularly for runners. You will burn more calories, you will get more out of shorter workouts, and you will notice results.

Running on snow and ice forces you to put your weight on your toes—thus minimizing the dreaded heel strike—and forces you to go slower, minimizing impact. Because snow and ice are softer than concrete, running on snow and ice engages the quads and hamstrings more and calls into action the stabilizing muscles in your core used to balance as you slip and slide through your workout.

You know how cranking up the resistance on the treadmill makes everything harder? Think of wind as nature’s resistance crank, or as that loathsome-yet-tender trainer, Sven, who wants you to look awesome and randomly switches the resistance on you without any warning whatsoever. He wants to pump you up. So does Mother Nature.

A few details to know about winter running: start slow. Watch out for sudden temperature drops. Going from hot to cold is tough on your systems. Go slower, and go shorter at first. Your muscles are going to get fatigued more quickly as well, so shorter distances will be more tiring.

For your footsies, try Yaktrax for snow and ice. They are super light, easy to get on your shoes, and make a huge difference when you need traction. For attire, apply your skiing mindset to running. As any good Coloradan knows, dress in layers. Your body can adjust surprisingly well to extremely cold temperatures, and if you keep running outside in cold weather you will be stunned at how effective you can become at warming yourself up.

Layering baselayers and throwing a light windbreaker or fleece on top is usually sufficient for most winter temps. When it gets really nasty, a ski shell can be a good weapon. The hardest part of the body to keep warm, I’ve found, is the legs. I always wear my ski socks pulled up to the knee, and I’ve taken to layering Spandex and baselayers on my legs instead of pants.

Finally, gloves and ear warmers are mandatory. The most common problem I’ve found with properly attiring oneself for frigid runs is that my legs are cold and the rest of me gets too hot. It takes some tweaking to figure out what works best, but that is part of the fun.

Shopping for all your new winter running clothes is also part of the fun, so check out the gear section on page 16, hit up stores like Boulder Running Company, Jax Outdoor Gear and REI to do some shopping, and wave a fond goodbye to that dusty, boring old treadmill. You aren’t going to need
it anymore.

Après ski is both a verb and a noun. The après ski, or simply “après,” has become as much a part of skiing culture as skiing itself, and as such has become an institution in its own right. To say après ski is as simple as drinking with your buddies after skiing would be analogous to saying skiing is simply strapping two planks to your feet and going down a snowy hill.

From the greenest novice to the most seasoned expert, to après ski is to relax, be with friends, celebrate the mountain and, in some cases, celebrate that you are still alive at the end of the day.

And just as there are types of skiers—Snow Bunnies, Powder Hounds, etc.—so too are there different types of après-skiers. If you like a candle/fireplace-lit ambience, great wine and want to be seen, find Sweet Basil in Vail Village. Boasting an extensive wine list, inventive cocktails, a small but well-curated beer selection and menu items such as organic Loch Duart salmon, Sweet Basil is the pick for the well-coiffed après-skier. Sweet Basil is also perfect for those who enjoy the après part of skiing more than the actual skiing.

Or, if you prefer cheap beer, rowdiness and spectacular people watching, the best place to go for a no-frills après is A-Basin. If you require a roof over your head to après, the Sixth Alley Bar is known for its bloody Marys (including a bacon bloody Mary) and cheap margaritas. The Alley has $1.50 tacos for those who save their money for gear. Pretension doesn’t exist here, and you will get respect for being able to shoot the breeze, tell some good jokes or talk gear like a gearhead.

But in my book, the best après is found in the parking lot at A-Basin, specifically at The Beach. “The Beach” is a strip of parking spots facing the mountain reserved in advance. The spots hold two cars each and have shared picnic tables. It is the perfect setup for an après-ski barbecue. There is absolutely nothing better than sitting outside after pounding the slopes, soaking in the sun, watching stragglers bomb down
the front side.

Skiing is about being outside, and it is often nice to keep that outdoor element going once the physical challenge is gone. Après skiing in the parking lot at A-Basin is essentially celebrating having been outside all day by being outside even longer. To me, that is the pinnacle of après ski excellence.

But it’s also because Estes Park is nothing like Summit County or the Front Range. It’s a piece of Americana, a time warp in some ways. Airstreams come to mind as do dream catchers, airbrushed T-shirts and fanny-packs—plenty of which can be seen downtown. The kitschy gift shops remind me of childhood and vacation with my parents. I can see the Griswolds passing through on their vacation. Estes Park wouldn’t be the same without all this. Nor would it be the same if it was only this.

Because there’s also Rocky Mountain National Park and YMCA of the Rockies. And a handful of restaurants and watering holes that we never miss. Again, these are essential for us, for the experience. I suppose Estes Park is like gestaltism where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

So walk downtown. People watch. Wander into shops selling talking bass and wolf art. Then try something else.

The Elk

Fall is elk mating season. This means randy 700-pound bulls bluster, spar and woo prospective cows into their harem like a bar scene from Jersey Shore. The eerie bugle is their trademark call. Watching the interplay between bowed up bulls is entertaining and for some reason, never gets old.

Keep your eyes and ears open. They’re everywhere—standing in Lake Estes; on the Hotel Stanley’s lawn; on sidewalks. A popular spot is Moraine Park inside RMNP where you can get to within a Kansas Winnebago of a harem. Once while hiking, we stumbled on a bull not more than 15 feet from us eating leaves, oblivious to our presence.

RMNP

The park is grasslands, tundra, meadows, subalpine and montane forests with 147 lakes, 355 miles of hiking trails and more than 280 bird species. A drive up Trail Ridge Road—the highest paved through-route in the country—is alone worth the price of admission.

Eating and Refreshment

Don’t expect frou-frou atmosphere at the Sweet Basilico. Do expect delicious Italian food at reasonable prices. We’ll crawl out of our campsite to have a meal here. Try the Trist de Pasta Fontasiosa. sweetbasilico.com

Smokin’ Daves BBQ & Taphouse could be missed on the way to RMNP. Look for it. Try the “Pitmaster”—Carolina pulled pork, Texas beef brisket and Texas BBQ sausage on a hoagie. Tipple a draft from its fine selection of Colorado microbrews. smokindavesq.com

The Estes Park Brewery’s interior is worn with walls painted in wildlife motif like an ironic hipster T-shirt. But I like that the place doesn’t seem to care. There’s a deck out back, some tasty beers and bartenders from all over the world. It’s worth a visit, especially after a hike. epbrewery.com

[tips}

+ Lodging: The YMCA of the Rockies sits in its own little wilderness with cabins and no-frills lodge rooms. If you have a family or small group, rent a cabin. ymcarockies.org

+ Camping: Moraine Park, Glacier Basin and Aspenglen offer basic camp spots with wildlife. Or venture backcountry to one of the park’s 120 sites. nps.gov

With the race just weeks away, I spoke to four area pros about training, their roles in the race and the altitude.

Woody Creek native, Fort Collins resident and Jelly Belly Cycling professional Alex Hagman says his training at high altitude will make the difference.

“In my experience doing high altitude races, between the 9,000- and 10,000-foot mark is really when you can see guys start to implode,” he said.

With this race, an entire stage barely dips below 8,000 feet. He’s been spending weekends in Leadville alternating with mountain bike rides to increase his power, which he says is easily lost at altitude.

Having grown up near Aspen, Hagman is familiar with the mammoth Stage 2 from Gunnison to Aspen that traverses two passes higher than 12,000 feet.

“I’ve been dreaming of winning this for a long time,” he said. “I know that road super well.”

UnitedHealthcare’s Aussie team leader Rory Sutherland knows dragging his 170 pounds across the Rockies puts him at a disadvantage against his wispier opponents. But he has two assets: being Boulder-based allows him to train on these roads, and only one stage finishes on a mountaintop.

“A lot of (mountain passes) are a long way from the finish line and it changes the dynamic of the racing. It’s not like an all-out blast of climbers to the finish line all the time,” he said. When I called him, he was in Salida preparing for the next day’s ride up Monarch Pass and to Crested Butte. “(The altitude) is a big unknown, for me and for pretty much all the teams that are doing it.”

Boulderite Timmy Duggan, who rides for Italian Liquigas-Cannondale, said UPCC is his biggest goal for the second half of the season. He’s put in a lot of training time at high altitude. He knows how quickly the thin air can shut down the body.

“The big difference is you only have one bullet to fire at altitude,” he said. “Once you go over that redline once, there’s no coming back.”

After riding most of the 130-mile Gunnison to Aspen route in training, Duggan, a climber, noted how hard he thinks the climb up Independence Pass will be. Just getting to the base of the climb requires miles of false flats and potential headwinds.

“I think it’s gonna be quite the show over the pass. … Some guys will be hurting for sure.” He somewhat-jokingly predicted half the peloton will be “swerving all over the road, wanting to get off and rest.”

Fabio Calabria of Team Type I – SANOFI will look after likely Russian leader Vladimir Efimkin, a Tour de France stage winner. The 23-year-old Golden resident will ensure Efimkin “expends as little energy as possible,” which means fetching water bottles, blocking the wind and chasing breaks. The Aussie has one other job: tending to his Type I diabetes with a continuous glucose monitor. He says it’s just a variable in his life.

“The things you do to be a successful professional cyclist as far as nutrition are the same things you do to be a successful person with diabetes,” he said.

And while none of these books are new, their stories are timeless.

The Animal Dialogues: Uncommon Encounters in the Wild

By Craig Childs

From ravens and raccoons to mosquitoes and mountain lions, Childs takes you on a personal tour of wild encounters. You’ll never look at these creatures the same way again, even the seemingly familiar ones.

Childs is picnicking with friends in the Rocky Mountains.

“Never in my life had I felt such prosperity, such delightful company, when suddenly I saw a scuttling movement up my shirtsleeve,” he writes.

It’s a praying mantis. He describes how the alien-looking insects can rotate their heads 180 degrees and “tilt them side to side” almost as if they’re becoming acquainted with you. He tells you how insect brains are more complex than anyone originally thought.

Then, like a predator waiting for his prey’s complacency, Childs pounces. “The mantis is a purely anatomical killer.”

In one case, as Childs watched, the insect leaped from a flower onto a hummingbird. “It held the hummingbird with one hook as it reached out and disemboweled its victim with scissoring mandibles.”

He does admit that he was actually afraid as he and his tiny guest locked eyes. Would it lunge at him sending his wineglass flying? Childs eventually passes the bug to his wife who lets it crawl on her head, leaving a table of “recoiled” friends.

Skeletons on the Zahara

By Dean King

In 1815, 12 American sailors are shipwrecked off the coast of Africa. Before them: the Sahara Desert, one of the most inhuman places on earth, “dry enough to kill bacteria and mummify corpses.” With the Atlantic behind them, there is nowhere to go but inland. It’s not long before Arab nomads capture and enslave the crew forcing it on a two-month march through the desert’s dehydrated hell.

The ship’s captain, James Riley, attempts to keep his men alive, even as hostile rival tribes barter for them as commodities: “…a Christian’s worth fell somewhere between a tattered blanket and an adult camel.” Used for travel, for food, for shelter and for hydration, camels are a desert dweller’s lifeline. The desiccated sailors even favor the camel’s urine to their own.

It’s not just the sailors trying to survive. For the Arabs as well, every day in the desert is a new day, struggling for food and water, enduring suffocating sandstorms, and negotiating deadly tribal tensions. Ultimately, they are all at the mercy of the Sahara.

Riley eventually survives and writes a memoir that becomes a bestseller in its day with fans such as Abraham Lincoln, James Fenimore Cooper and Henry David Thoreau. In case you’re thinking I spoiled the ending, you’ll read about this in the preface. And anyway, this one is all about the journey.

The Contested Plains: Indians, Goldseekers, and the Rush to Colorado

By Elliott West

After gold was discovered in Little Dry Creek in present day Englewood in 1858, folks flocked to the Front Range from all parts east. This convergence of humanity with the inhabiting Plains tribes was sure to start a fire. And it did.

In The Contested Plains, Elliott West takes readers through a social, economic, environmental and political history of the plains and Front Range from the earliest inhabitants hunting the massive Bison antiquus (think a super size Ralphie) to the American adventurers afflicted with gold fever. He shows how the introduction of horses and firearms had a profound effect on plains Indians: “Horses revolutionized warfare.” And how families endured the precarious journey overland to seek fortunes never found. And finally, how inevitably the Cheyennes, Arapahos, Comanches, Kiowas and Plains Apaches clashed with whites. West says there was “misunderstanding and paranoia” on all sides. As you walk outside of your home, you’ll look around at the land and think about the people who came before you. You’ll know Bent, Black Kettle, Left Hand and Wynkoop.

Deep Survival: Who Lives, Who Dies, and Why

By Laurence Gonzales

How does an experienced woodsman get lost in the wilderness? Why do some people walk out of the jungle while others sit down and die? The author wants answers to these questions. So do, I think, a lot of people who venture away from the safety of our more predictable lives. In Deep Survival, Gonzales acquaints you with science, psychology and gut feeling to try to explain who lives and who dies. He guides you through an ocean of actual survival situations, some that went right and others that went deadly wrong.

In 1998, a hiker ventured backcountry in Rocky Mountain National Park. The man had survival training, was reasonably well-equipped and had brought a topo map. But after becoming separated from his partner who had the compass and who knew their route, he lost his bearings.

Gonzales says we all make mental maps of our surroundings but that the hiker’s map was for a route and destination he was not familiar with. “He did not know what was ahead of him. He could see into his past, but he had lost that vital cortical ability to perceive the world and therefore to see into his own future.”

Each literal miss-step chipped away at his confidence and reasoning ability. “The multiple stresses of weather, fatigue, altitude, dehydration, and anxiety were closing in on (his) ability to find that vital balance between useful emotion and reason.” Finally, after five days, rescuers found the man—hungry, injured and hypothermic—but alive.

In the appendix, you’re rewarded with “The Rules of Adventure,” survival advice you can use not just in the wilderness, but also at work and in relationships.

Keota is being swallowed up slowly by the prairie. The tiny ghost town on the Pawnee Grasslands was once a community of 140 Coloradans, a railroad stop on the “Prairie Dog Express,” and inspiration for a great American novelist. But in this unforgiving land, Keota could only hold on for so long. Out here, nature does things its own way.

The Pawnee National Grasslands sit on 193,000 acres of private and U.S. Forest Service land in northeastern Colorado. The land—dominated by blue grama and buffalo grass, prickly pear cactus, sagebrush and little water—unfurls like a lumpy earthen carpet for miles in any direction. Buffalo in the thousands once passed through, sustaining their hunters, the Pawnee Indians. Fur trappers arrived, then ranchers, and then farmers.

But today, the only signs of civilization are rusted barbed-wire fences, creaking windmills and a few cattle ranches. Most of the life here is not human or domesticated, it’s wild. Antelopes bound across grassland, often stopping to watch you watch them. Coyotes slink through arroyos. Swainson’s hawks—one among the 200 species of birds—perch on what seems like every fence post. Here, the big sky pacifies one minute, riles and threatens the next. You can watch the evening light fade in the west while still radiating in the east. You seldom run into people. And except for the songbirds and the wind, it’s eerily quiet. It’s beguiling.

Sometimes the wind tickles, sometimes it punches relentlessly. But it’s always there. During the Dust Bowl of the 1930s, winds of 50 to 60 mph regularly blasted the Grasslands. Combined with years of drought, the wind ruined farmers such as those in Keota. One of the few residents who remained in town after this devastation was Clyde Stanley.

Stanley was born in 1887 in Missouri, but his family soon moved to Colorado. After attending schools in Boulder and Lafayette, Stanley bought a printing press in Erie and started the Erie News. Then he moved his printing operation to Keota where he published the Keota News and ran the Wayside Press. While in Keota, Stanley often hosted James Michener while the author was working on his epic Colorado novel, Centennial. Michener dedicates part of the book to Stanley “who introduced (him) to the prairie.”

Just beyond what’s left of Keota are the 250-foot-tall Pawnee Buttes, rising above the prairie like two Western sages. After the Cretaceous Sea dried up 65 million years ago, wind and water carved this sandstone pair, sparing little else in the area. Around the buttes, paleontologists and amateurs have dug up the fossil remains of a giant rhino and more than 100 other species, producing one of the finest vertebrate collections in the world.

From the Pawnee Buttes trailhead, the hike to the western butte is three miles round-trip. While the eastern butte is on private property, the owners are neighborly as long as you stay on the trail. If you visit the grasslands, be ready to get lost driving the maze of dirt roads.

And most of all, be ready for the desolation and silence.

Resources: Pick up Birding on the Pawnee by Automobile or Mountain Bike brochure at the Greeley USDA office (970.346.5000).

Around the Grasslands: Drive further east on CO-14 to Sterling and don’t forget to check out the town’s Overland Trail Museum.

Camping: Crow Valley Campground just north of Briggsdale on CO-77 has 10 family sites, water and bathrooms. For reservations: recreation.gov. Camp near the western Pawnee Butte.

A dozen wing beats later, another yells, “A kestrel! A female!”

After wintering in Mexico, this vibrant falcon is traveling north with urgency. The kestrel, like other raptor species, migrates south every fall, then beelines north in spring. This bird passes the Dinosaur Ridge Raptor Monitoring Station where volunteers count raptors from March to May.

These daily counts are entered into a national repository. Researchers from around the world use these numbers to track raptor populations and analyze trends.

Why Migrate?

Jeff Birek, biologist for the Rocky Mountain Bird Observatory, oversees the hawkcount program on Dinosaur Ridge. He says long ago raptors moved out of their home areas because of food scarcity pressures.

“The ones that moved outside of the area did better than the ones that stayed,” Birek says. “They kept getting pushed farther and farther because there was good reason to do it. They were having more young than the ones that were staying still.”

Ultimately, for the birds it’s about self-preservation. The Swainson’s Hawk leaves Colorado by October, flies 6,000 miles to La Pampas, Argentina, then returns in April.

Why Migrate along our Front Range?

Raptors migrate along a few major U.S. corridors. These birds, particularly soaring birds such as turkey vultures, hawks and eagles, use the terrain to their advantage. Rather than waste energy flapping like a dancer at a Panic show, the birds ride ridge lifts—wind forced up the face of a sloped contour like the Front Range. Another free ride is a thermal, which are pockets of warm, rising air. When that air cools, the bird jumps to another thermal and rides for hours with little more than a few flaps.

Dinosaur Ridge

Perched on a rock spine several hundred feet above the din of Denver, you forget you’re human. Raptors pass at eye-level. Scanning the skyline for tiny silhouettes takes the mindfulness of a monk. Then…

Someone spots a red-tail hawk over Mount Morrison. Other volunteers join the optical chase. The big question: Is it a migrant or a local? Locals aren’t counted. It climbs higher before peeling off south.

“The local birds, when they’re doing the ‘high flying thing’, they’re just looping,” says RMBO volunteer Chuck Hundertmark. “That’s very likely a local male doing the courtship thing.”

Migrant birds, by contrast, hop from thermal to thermal, steadily moving north.

A turkey vulture commands the air 50 feet above. But this road-kill epicure is one of the most adept soaring birds in the world. Today, it’s riding the ridge lift and moving north.

The day’s total: 19 raptors.

Resources:

Identifying birds: Sibley Field Guide to Birds of Western North America,
sibleyguides.com

Knowing your birds: Stokes Nature Guides: A Guide to Bird Behavior (Vol. 1-3), amazon.com

birds migrating in Colorado: Sightings updated daily. hawkcount.org

A site with everything birds: including a Colorado birding list with daily sightings. birdingonthe.net

Ten minutes before, Glossner had made the decision to ski alone, away from his seven-person group across a ridge. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going.

It was sunny and warm for a March day, even at 11,600 feet. The only thought on the transplanted Pennsylvanian’s mind was making fresh tracks in Colorado snow. To say he was excited is an understatement. As he later admitted, “It was like being drunk.”

Glossner carried an avalanche beacon but had no formal avalanche training, although he and his ski buddies had practiced snow digging drills on their yurt trip in the Rockies west of Fort Collins.

Riding the avalanche on his side, Glossner could see the snow piling up in a gully at the bottom. For a second he thought he might be OK. Then he came to a dead stop with a wall of snow slamming into him from behind. The day’s bright sun quickly faded as snow piled on top, interring him in a frozen tomb.

He was face down, head first down the hill, buried in six feet of packed, heavy snow. Glossner tried moving his arm and his head but they were cemented in place. “I started panicking,” Glossner recalls almost four years later. “Then I told myself, ‘Don’t panic. Breathe normally. Be cool.’” Then he remembers thinking, surreally, “Silly you. This was a stupid way to die.” About a minute later, he blacked out.

Fortunately for Glossner, one of his friends, Andy Vermilyea, was watching the whole drama play out from the bottom of an adjacent chute. He located Glossner within several minutes with his beacon, and along with another skier, dug for about 10 minutes until they found their friend. Blue face. Not breathing. The two furiously kept digging so they could pull Glossner out enough to administer CPR. Just when they got his upper body clear of snow, Glossner popped back to life.

“I remember thinking, ‘I can’t believe you guys found me. I can’t believe I’m alive.’” Glossner admits he was lucky. Lucky his buddies executed a perfect rescue. Lucky because the gully he was buried in is what’s known as a terrain trap—an often deadly part of an avalanche where snow and debris entomb victims. Lucky despite his burial depth. Lucky in spite of himself.

Playing in the backcountry will always involve a certain amount of risk, but you can mitigate the dangers with education, the right equipment and by managing the most dangerous element—yourself.

About 2,300 avalanches are reported every season in the state, according to the Colorado Avalanche Information Center. They estimate that another 10 times that amount occur but go unreported. On average about six people die in Colorado avalanches every year. Among those most often killed are snowmobilers, backcountry skiers, snowboarders and climbers.
Most avalanches occur on slopes that are steeper than 30 degrees. Play on slopes less than 30 degrees and your chances of being caught are remarkably diminished.

Avalanches are fast, up to 80 mph. YouTube videos show skiers and snowmobilers outrunning big slides, narrowly escaping with their lives. But those are exceptions. When you’re caught on one, you’ll likely go for a ride that ends in a cement burial.

Faces of Death

Asphyxiation is the cause of death for 75 percent of avalanche victims. Without an air pocket to diffuse your breath, a poisonous carbon dioxide ice mask forms around your mouth, further restricting breathing, leading to hypoxia and eventually a painful death.

One of the best actions to take before the snow cements you is to clear an air pocket in front of your face. You’ll have a 90 percent greater chance of survival if extracted within 15 minutes.

The deeper a person is buried the less chance for survival. According to the CAIC’s website, those buried at 1 foot have about an 80 percent chance of survival. At 6 feet—Glossner’s burial depth—your chance of survival is just 20 percent.

The remaining victims are killed by trauma injuries sustained from being pinballed into trees, rolled with rocks and being swept over cliffs. A small percentage dies from hypothermia.

Don’t Leave Home Without…

The three standard pieces of safety equipment for the backcountry are a beacon, probe and shovel. A beacon is a radio transceiver that sends and receives signals to other beacons with the goal of locating buried victims. Probes are collapsible rods—from seven to almost 20 feet—used to probe for a buried victim. Shoveling is the most time-consuming and important part of a rescue.

Carrying this gear should be like buckling your seatbelt: automatic and without exception—the minimum safety precaution. But…

In January, a snowboarder and his dog were killed near Berthoud Pass. The boarder owned safety gear but left it in his car that day. Even if he had brought it with him, it wouldn’t have helped; his buddy didn’t have any equipment.

The Future Safety Standards?

Several other pieces of equipment are becoming popular additions to the backcountry safety quiver: the Avalung and the avalanche airbag system.

The Avalung is designed to mitigate the chance of asphyxiation. With the Avalung’s mouthpiece, you inhale through a one-way valve while the dangerous exhaled carbon dioxide is expended through a tube on your back rather than near your mouth. It’s simple but effective.

On a hut trip near Vail in 2009, a skier and two snowboarders were caught in a slide. All three used the Avalung while they were buried; one was buried for more than two hours. All three survived.

The avalanche airbag first came into commercial use in Europe in the 1980s. The concept is simple: if caught in an avalanche, pull a cord on your backpack and two airbags will deploy helping you stay on top or at least closer to the surface.

“Burial depth is the big problem,” says Bruce Edgerly, cofounder of Boulder’s Backcountry Access, maker of the Float 30 Avalanche Airbag. “If you get buried shallow, you’re probably gonna make it. But if you get bu
ried deeply, your chances are really poor.”

Edgerly speaks from experience, having been caught in a 1,000 feet vertical slide in 1994. After his buddy dug him out, Edgerly walked out with only bruises and broken gear. “I got away with murder.”

The airbag success rate in Europe—97 percent of avalanche victims survived—makes this a no-brainer for the U.S. The sale and manufacture of airbags have caught on in the U.S. in the last few years. They’re spendy ($700 for the Float 30) but with more companies entering the market, prices should come down. For some, airbags have become a necessity.

In December 2010 near Jones Pass, snowmobiler Kaleb Timberlake deployed his airbag when he was caught in a massive slab avalanche. In a letter to summitdaily.com, Timberlake wrote, “Go get a pack [airbag]. My sled didn’t make it home today, but I did. That is the difference.”

Having the right safety gear can save your life in an avalanche, but you are your best bet to avoid being caught in one.

Mitigating the Human Aspect

Read any avalanche fatality report and you’ll notice that many of the victims had at least some avalanche knowledge and were equipped with beacons, probes and shovels. According to Dale Atkins’ research, 72 percent of victims had some kind of awareness training. Atkins was a forecaster at Colorado Avalanche Information Center and now works for RECCO AB, an avalanche rescue detector company. He says the biggest danger is you and the decisions you make.

“The vast majority of people who go out into the backcountry don’t experience avalanches. And it comes down to perception,” Atkins says. “And the problem with perception is it tends to dwell in the past and live in the future but very seldom does it live in the present.”

In other words, Atkins says people only remember what it was like the last time they went out. Things like great powder, good turns and good times—not avalanches that didn’t happen. “They’re employing rules of thumb or heuristics or mental short-cuts to availability. What’s easiest to remember?”

Atkins makes an analogy: When you’re driving, you know if you cross that double yellow line you could get hurt or even killed. Even if you’ve never been in an accident you’ve passed accidents on the road, know someone who has been in one, or heard plenty of stories. But because we haven’t had an avalanche experience, “We don’t know where that double yellow line is. Where that edge is,” he says.

So how do you mitigate these “mental short-cuts” we’re all prone to take? Atkins has a few suggestions:

Keep groups small (four to five people). Because group-think is easy, select a “Devil’s Advocate,” someone who will challenge the decisions of the group. Atkins equates this role to a plane’s copilot who monitors the pilot.

“The Call Girl Principle” is the concept of making all your negotiations right up front. Before your group goes out, talk about the levels of risk each person is willing to take. What factors will lead your group to turn around or take a different route? “The more you can discuss these things before you get up on the side of the mountain, the easier it will be.”

Conduct a “Pre-Mortem” before you ski a slope. Pretend you were involved in an avalanche. “Ask yourself why and how that could have happened? That usually causes us to think backward and start looking at those clues and information a little more carefully. Things we might have missed.”

Two weeks after surviving his avalanche, Andy Glossner took a Level 1 avalanche course. He still skis the backcountry but now knows the danger signs and doesn’t take the risks.

“You were out in the sun avoiding the crowds, no incidents, you come back fine. That was a good day.”

Nordic skiing “appeals to a variety of people” says Mark Flolid, president of the Boulder Nordic Club. He says runners and cyclists gravitate to skate skiing for its off-season cardio benefits. Classic skiing attracts people of all ages and fitness levels. Visit any Nordic center on a weekday and you’ll see groups of seniors on classics.

To Skate or Classic?

This depends on what your goals are. Try them both if you’re not sure. Skate skis are shorter and thinner than classics and the motions are more akin to skating. Push out one ski, plant your poles, glide. Repeat with the other ski. When done properly, skate skiing is as graceful as ice skating. Well, maybe Chazz Michael Michaels on ice. To skate you need a groomed trail.

Skate skiing was pioneered by American Bill Koch in the 1980s. Koch noticed he could “skate” on classic skis faster than his European opponents who skied the traditional classic technique. He proved this by winning the 1982 World Cup. The two styles have since become separate disciplines.

Classic skis are more versatile. You don’t need a groomed trail. Though it’s typically done in parallel tracks, it doesn’t have to be. Just break new snow and make your own trail. The mechanics of the classic glide is more like a lunge or exaggerated walk with alternating poles planted at your side and pushed back. “It’s the easiest
thing to start but the hardest to perfect,” Flolid says.

Healthy Returns on Your Investment

In both disciplines you’re burning up to 700 calories an hour. You’ll feel muscles you haven’t used since high school. Because you’re out in nature with just the sound of your skis skimming the snow and your heart thumping, the hours pass quickly.

Good skis, boots, bindings and poles start around $300. With all the Nordic skiers in the area, it’s easy to pick up used gear. Rental packages start at $12. Some trails such as those in Brainard Lake are free, while others start at $7 for the day. To get started, take a lesson at one of the Nordic centers. There are dozens of trails, but these will get the beginner going:

Brainard Lake Area, with free admission, offers a variety of non-groomed trails. Most of the trails snake through fir and pine forest—a welcome relief from the often windy days. Stop by the cozy Colorado Mountain Club cabin, sit by the fire and drink a hot chocolate ($1 fee). The new parking lot helps with the heavy weekend crowds. fs.fed.us.

Haystack Mountain Golf Course has groomed trails for Nordic and skate skiing. Day pass: $7. Check golfhaystack.com for daily grooming report.

North Boulder Park, a 2 km loop, is flat, groomed and free. For daily conditions see bouldernordic.org.
Eldora Nordic Center has 40 km of challenging groomed trails. Day pass: $22. Lesson and rental package starts at $52. eldora.com.

Snow Mountain Ranch, north of Winter Park, has about 70 km of groomed trails. This is an excellent place to learn with its variety of terrain and knowledgeable Nordic center staff. Day pass: $15. Learn to ski package: $40. ymcarockies.org.

I was starting a snowboard lesson on a small mountain in New Mexico. I was nervous, already sweating profusely in the warm spring sun when my young instructor strutted up. He introduced himself as Blazer or Bunny; I can’t recall which. But it was a nickname, I remembered, he had probably earned on the mountain, in a bar or with the opposite sex.

Bunny asked me questions about my experience and what I wanted to learn. After a minute, there was a lull in the conversation. Bunny looked me up and down. I thought he was making sure I had my lift ticket or that my boots were tied. He smiled and nodded. “Dude, that is one cherry suit,” he said, finishing with a Jeff Spicoli laugh.

“Thanks,” I said, grabbing a deep breath of the thin New Mexico air, the tension in my body suddenly released. I didn’t feel awkward after all. It was going to
be OK.

It took me a few seconds to realize that Bunny wasn’t complimenting my taste in apparel. Evidently, a two-tone one-piece with the attached belt cinched tight was way out of bounds—at least maybe for a beginner and a guy my age. I felt a small crack in the confidence. I had borrowed the suit from my dad’s friend. Maybe I should have scored gear from someone my age. Too late. I was stuck in the thing that seemed pretty practical before I met Bunny.

The morning didn’t get much better from there. Not that it was Bunny’s fault. He was patient with my many failed attempts to ride down the kiddy slope. And he didn’t mention my cherry suit again; although, I think it was killing him not to. I was exhausted and frustrated. I wanted to learn right then, but it wasn’t happening. That night I had a good laugh with my buddies talking about the one-piece experience. I went home to Florida thinking that was the end of my snow sports career. But a few years later I followed Horace Greeley’s advice.

That day seems like a million runs ago. Not because I’m now able to ski confidently but because with each season, skiing feels like something that’s always been a part of my life. I’ve also been thinking about buying a one-piece for the really cold days.