The rest of the trip notes...

I posted details from my BC trip over at the Diva Ski Tips blog - it gets substantially more traffic.  At least go look at the extra pictures. 

Whitewater and Red Resort

White Grizzly Cat Skiing

Photo: Brad Karafil

If in doubt, make a snow angel.

Crossing boundaries

I haven’t skied outside of the U.S. since 2001 at Tremblant.  I was a college junior on spring break with my beau at the time.  As a compulsive rule follower, I also hadn’t consumed alcohol before that trip.  The drinking age in Quebec was 19 at the time.  I pretended it was the same when I returned to school, though that’s another story.

I recently headed up to British Columbia for an adventure. The Canadian border patrol asked me about three times if I was planning to work while there.  Oh, but how I now want to. 

Kootenay Lake

The trip details and recommendations on why you should go and where are saved for another post here or on the DivaSkiTips blog.

This was a trip about pushing my boundaries a bit.  The exhilaration of exploring new resorts – Whitewater and Red Mountain.  Picking up hitchhikers on access roads. Getting nearly cliffed out and lost on my way to a named run.  Noting that many a Canadian makes their home-grown Arc’teryx gear look pretty good.

Oh, and some cat skiing with White Grizzly.  I’m hooked.  

Here’s something that’s embarrassing to admit – my whole time in Utah I never had enough faith in my fitness to go into the backcountry.  I even had avy gear and the knowhow to use my beacon and probe.  I had plenty of friends with skins and touring gear to borrow.  Many an invite to tag along.  But never trusted myself to be able to keep up with the guys who I would trust with my life in avalanche terrain.  Never thought that I would add anything to the group and unwilling to just be along, slowing them down.

So really, this was my first trip into the backcountry.  No lifts, but no skins either, just a cozy snowcat and a few trusty guides.  With somewhat tricky avalanche conditions and very steep terrain, trusting the guides that we were with was pretty key.  And I did.  They shared what they were thinking, too.

Incredible powder skiing.  Deeper than I’ve ever skied for more than a run or two.  Steep trees and fun lines.  Scolding myself for skiing poorly then putting it together to point ‘em down the fall line and go.  Getting into the air a few times – highly unusual for me.  Pushing my own boundaries. 

Photo: Brad Karafil, White Grizzly Adventures

Giggling.  A lot.  Forgetting to breath.  Making new friends.  Drinking Canadian whiskey.  Smiling until my cheeks hurt.

Being sad. Among the reasons - sad to leave the powder, terrain, and friends behind – not necessarily in that order.  Sad for those who died doing what we love in an avalanche at a nearby heli-skiing operation.  One gal who was caught was 29 and from Salt Lake.  That precise tour operator and date were in my final list of possibilities for this splurge of a trip.  

This trip was well-timed for me.  It’s hard not to look introspectively at life when surrounded by amazing mountains, adventures, and fun people amidst a pending career change for me and with news of an eerie tragic accident.

B.C. has stolen a place in my heart - I’ll be back to cross the boundary for more. And next time I get invited into the backcountry with people I trust, I’m going.  If nothing else, I can add the giggles.  

I have no off season...

They skiers I know keep their lives together in the summer.  The cyclists I know get their 'honey-do' lists done in the winter.  Most years, I don't even have an off weekend between the end of the fall cross season and ski season.

In December, I raced Fair Hill. On a Saturday.  It was a great course but my legs and head were checked out for the season and my result indicated that.  Ah well, at least I had to wear more than a shortsleeve skinsuit at ONE race this year.  It was fun - three bikes, three people, two dogs, and a minimal number of extra wheels.  That's right, I said two dogs.  I'll write more about Oz sometime.

Sunday morning after an early morning run, we drove to Vermont.  Ski instructor camp.  I'd never been, even though it's a big deal and almost a third of the Ski Liberty instructors make the trip.  Can I just say - I love starting ski season with strong legs and endurance!?

After nearly a week in Vermont, we drove back late and I did one of my favorite things on Saturday - lead a hiring clinic for a small group of new instructors.  Only this year, the resort wasn't open yet.  Warm weather meant we were confined to a strip of white on the beginner's hill and a lift open just for us.  The weather didn't get colder after that... and the resort didn't officially open until December 30th this season.

But wait, how cool is that - I had like 2 weekends of an offseason.  I rode my bike.  A lot.  More training hours than November or October.  I played on the rocks at the Shed. A lot.  I rode with friends on the road. Long rides in the wind. Long rides in 60 degree December balminess.  Long rides in chillier weather.  I didn't get enough science done, but I thought about my science a lot.  That helped, actually.

Right now, I feel great.  Life has been busy but balanced.  But the crux of ski season is on me.  I have some travel coming up for training and personal skiing, then some more likely for PSIA events.  Plus every weekend, I teach beginner skiers, beginner instructors, and all the gang that's been around for years.  Yikes. Time to hold on until March.

I have some big goals this year for cycling.  If you see me on the slopes, ask me how my training is going.  I don't want to forget who I am the other 8 months of the year!

looks good on paper, but...

I wrote most of this post right after Cap Cross in December but just didn't feel okay posting it yet.  I just finished it and here ya go.

 What I learned about cyclocross this weekend: I love the gals we race with.  What a good group.

Cap Cross. Two years ago it was icy.  Three years ago, so windy that popups were rolling through the parking lot.  This year - sunny, 55 degrees, perfect weather to spend outside all day.  Technical course with a bunch of power sections.  Awesome fun downhill.

Toeing the line with 16 other women.  How cool is that?!  We're routinely getting elite fields >10 in the region now.

I had a good start, coming off the second row and sitting about 5th heading onto the grass.  Hoping to make the early selection and stay in the draft across the bridge.  A rider ahead of me started to wobble. I went wide.  She went down, so did the gal behind her.  I looked over and in a split second when I normally would say something to the effect of, "C'mon Erin, get back on it, let's go," I saw pain.  Not sure how my brain knew it other than instinct, seeing as I was already almost seeing stars from the start.  A half a beat later, a wail of excrutiating pain.  Crap.  I checked my speed a bit. Talked to the woman behind me.  But kept going.  I'm not sure what else to do.  But I couldn't get my head back into it.  Couldn't go as hard as I can nor as aggressive.

By the time we got to the end of the lap, they neutralized the race.  The ambulance was immobilizing a badly broken ankle.

We milled around.  As a group, we decided to basically parade the restart without contesting.  Didn't mean we went slow, but we didn't pass aggressively, sprint, or do anything particuarly competitive.  The cash for the day went to Erin - a group decision - to cover her deductible. 

I've decided it's okay that this affects me - upsets me even.  She's a friend and we were doing what we love.  It's okay to lose the killer instinct for a couple hours.  That's why we love the community.

Update: Erin is just now spinning with no resistance.  She's got some extra metal in that ankle, but will be back next year, no doubt.