Buena Vista 2007 Paddle Fest

Anothter week gone by, 8 days of school left, and my mind already in the gutter of summer. It got drenched this weekend in Buena Vista at the 2007 Paddle Fest. Cara and I met Kyle, his girlfriend, her friend, my sister Moogs, and her boyfriend J-rad for a weekend of rivers, relaxation, camping, and fun. We rolled into BV around 9pm friday, first stop the Lariat. Its a raw brick building with cheap drinks, sullen light, and a bunch of paddlers talking about rapids, flips, and water as their girlfriends and wifes roll their eyes and try to ignore all the water talk.

Saturday we rafted Browns Canyon. This is the most commercially rafted 10 mile stretch of white water in all America. The run off was about 1000cfs higher than normal for this time of year making for a very exciting journey. It was great to have a boat full of guides. Kyle started out, then I had a few rapids, Jared taking over towards the end, and Megan finishing us out. I was so proud to see my little sister guiding the boat and being so great at it.

Saturday afternoon we were beat, tired, and chilled. Like any good crew of dirtbaggers we head for the local park to sleep off the fun. All of us stretched out on the lawn, drooling on the soccer field, me cuddleing the Chica to stay warm, and out of the wind.


Sunday we went to Salida to surf at the play park. The river was about 2000cfs creating a mighty play wave, fast, and chundering as you surfed its infinity water. The wave so powerful, keeping you in the pit even if you rolled, providing fast spins, sloppy loops, and bright smiles.

Finding the Wrong White Water

Three weeks ago, three men, from three different towns came together in the diamond studded hills of Basalt for the search of white water. The days prior to the weekend adventure were glorious, filled with rays of sun, warm tulip breezes, and fast melting snow, resulting in rising raging rivers.
The days prior to putting into the rivers were filled with daydreams instead of chemistry problems, fleeting movements of the smell of wet moldy neoprene, and sometimes while doing the dishes in the evening you could hear the roar of the rapids and the purr of the eddy lines. It was going to be a great weekend with close friends, Phil, Kyle, and the water.

Friday night finally came as did my friends from different parts of the state. Kyle zooming in from Grand Junction got here at 7pm. Just enough time to dawn the dry top and hit a class III section of the Crystal. 7:45 and we are still on the river, almost dark, Phil probably at the house, chit chatting with the Chica. 8pm its dark, we are off the Crystal, freezing as the snow begins to fall.

Saturday morning and we are a little groggy from the many PBR's, late night talking, and laughing. As the coffee boils we glance outside to see the gorilla gray skies of a spring snow storm. Fists of snow fall to the earth, hard to believe summer lifted her skirt to us earlier this week, getting us excited for the fun surging rides to come.

Snow hasn't stopped us in the past, the fun must move on, we pack and head to the river. Saturday saw many moods, the gorilla storm moving around the mountain valleys, opening its mouth to shout more snow, hiding in the valleys as the sun glares down, fighting to shine. We too fought, seeking the turbulent white capped waves, wanting so bad to just paddle a few miles. We drove to Marble, a small mining town about an hour from the house. There is a manky class V+ run we wanted to check out and envision paddling. We were not going to do it that day, it was just a way to kill time, let the gorilla pass. As we approached the broken shanty town we could not find the gorge. We drove broken hearted mining roads, 4x4 up grey shale talus, looking, searching, and in the end finding the wrong white water...snow.

After the back woods jaunt we drove down valley to the stretch Kyle and I paddled yesterday. In the sideways sleet we buckled the life jackets, lifted the paddle, and headed down river.

Prom 07 Sundeck Aspen Mountain

Oh what joy it is to relive the golden years of high school. Prom this year was atop Aspen Mountain at the Sundeck. You had to take a 20 minute gondola ride to the summit (where these pictures were taken). The mountain lodge was decorated with flowers, fire places, and strobe lights. We wanted to dance so bad but thought it awkard to be grinding next to my students. Overall it was a nice night, I had a hot date (Cara wore her wedding dress), no kids got busted for drinking, and Cara ate pounds of chocolate covered strawberries. Isn't prom usually held in the gym? These kids have no idea...

Redstone: First Day of Summer!

This past weekend Cara and I got out with some new friends for a day of climbing. This past weekend was the first spectacular day of summer. Warm temperatures greated us at the rocks, bright sun, and even an afternoon thunderstorm rolled across the horizon.

It was the first time we had gotten out to climb all winter. It felt amazing to stretch out, get scared, and climb! Cara pulled out the guns and sent some thin, sloppy, problems at the Coal Creek Boulders. I found a new project in Redstone, a sweet climb that takes you high, then cruzes down into a stout cross, and then back up, finishing on a jup rail.

This weekend really excited the both of us for warm temps, afternoon escapades, and the pursuit of life. Enjoy the fotos...

Ex-Ed April 15th-22nd San Juan River

Yet another reason I love teaching here at Aspen... Aspen High has a program they call Ex-Ed, the Ex stands for experential, Ed obviously education. The teachers at the school have to come up with some sort of week long experential education course. Mine was a raft guide training course on the San Juan River. There are many other courses such as going to Mexico for service work, Ski mountaineering/canyoneering in Utah, Chicago art museums, rafting Cataract Canyon, etc...over 27 course in all.

Andre Wille and myself led a week long river training trip. We navigated the San Juan and Colorado rivers. Megan my sister and her boyfriend Jared (who are also guides) tagged along for support. We had 13 guides in training ranging from 9th to 12th grade. They were beginers overall, with a few intermediate kayakers thrown in the mix. The river matched their ability perfectly.

The San Juan is a class II river through the canyon country South Eastern Utah. It cuts through some very interesting geologic formations as well as having a rich archeology history from the Anazi 600A.D, to gas miners, to present day river rats like us.

Here are a few of the pictures from the trip...enjoy

just the girls

i thought you all would like to see a picture of the two women i consider my closest friends in our little mountain town. helena from sweden (left), and robyn from seattle via boulder via east coast (center)! for my birthday this year, helena hosted a wonderful dinner where we talked and laughed by candle light. afterward, helena and i took the bus up to aspen, to have one last wild night before all the tourists and seasonal workers leave with the close of ski season. we had a blast, laughing and dancing with all the young 20-somethings...i can't beleive i actually felt OLD for the first time out on the town! (i am 26 now after all....haha) we danced and danced until the wee hours of the morning. these two women have helped to make my transition back to CO so much more connected and grounding. they both bring out my depth and my wild side too! i thank them now for being in my life.

brent is away this week, teaching his students how to kayak and raft guide. ahhh, the difficult life of being a teacher in aspen.

more pictures to come!

love you all, thanks for reading

Kayaks+Road Trip= Dirt Bagging

Dirt Bagging is becoming a lost art. What is Dirt Bagging you say? It was, and faintly is, the art of travel, adventure, and experience all on the smallest of budgets. Usually cans of sardines in mustard sauce, hand rolled cigarettes, and sleeping in your truck are common occurrences when on a dirt bag expedition.

Dirt Bagging hit its hay day in the mid 70's in Yosemite's Camp 4. Here climbers would spend months living in the camp, climbing hard day in and day out, drinking wine from leather pouches, eating cold beans, and only spending $2 a day max. From my research the first documented and published works of Dirt Bagging was Jack Kerouac and his buddies traveling from coast to coast, living the life, and doing it for next to nothing.

My college friends and I were heavily influenced through climbing into this life of Dirt Bagging. Every weekend offered a new trail to navigate, rock to get scared on, and river to wrestle. We often had jobs with the utmost of flexibility to allow for spur of the moment trips to the desert, river, or mountain (if we had jobs at all.... i.e. Tony Cappa, Colin Coulsen, and occasionally myself). The beauty was the spontaneity, simplicity, the usual outcome of adventure, laughs, and friendship.

College ended, much to my dismay, and we all took new roads to follow. Kyle went to CA to work as an English teacher, Colin and Tom building cell phone towers in South Dakota, Phil teaching in Denver, Dane in CA sitting in the cubie, Tony going back to college, Kazu to New Hampshire for his Doctorate, Joe delivering babies out of a fire engine, Gee somehow getting into grad school, and me teaching full time in Aspen. Yet the flame has not extinguished. I hear stories through the grape vine about cross country bike tours, climbing Indian Creek 3 weeks in a row, traveling to Guatemala, driving to Joshua Tree for the weekend, and quitting your job to live in a motorhome you bought from a gypsy in Fresno. This is what life is all about and I am happy to be part of a culture of people who go on day to day with this drive and passion to really do it right (in our eyes at least).

The following pictures are of Kyle and I's latest Dirt Bag foray. It was over my spring break and was a small pre-season paddling pursuit on the Colorado and Yampa rivers. On the Colorado we ran Barrel Springs into Shoshone and on the Yampa we can Cross Mountain Gorge at about 2300cfs. It was a true Dirt Bag experience in its finest. We paddled difficult rivers, laid on the ground around a fire sipping PBR, smoked DRUM rollies, ate sardines with crackers, slept in the van down by the river in Steamboat, and didn't shower for 5 days. What a life....enjoy the fotos...