Southwest Colorado TR: The Cornholio Files

[Cornholio]

Chapter 1.

There have been points in my life where I find myself existing completely within one speck of space and time, moments where it matters equally little what events brought me to that point, or what events are conspiring to throw me forward.

Of course, as soon as I find myself conscious of this, the moment is over and my life resumes its normal execution of the laws of cause and effect, so that those moments seem surreal and isolated – almost bizarre.

For the duration of three days in February, I experienced the most remarkable of these moments. Three days so isolated from the usual momentum of my life that to attempt to relate them is like remembering a dream.

When I first saw the Reverend, he was sitting atop a mound of gear, literally held together by duct tape. Despite his selfless efforts to flirt with Budget Girl in order to secure us a better deal on the truck, National Man had our keys ready and we quickly threw our gear in the bed for the hour drive north from Durango to Silverton.

The Silverton Hostel is nice enough, especially for 30 dollars between three exhausted skiers. We found the place, and a note: Cornwell, room 9. Keys in the door. A quick gear transfer later, and the Rev and I are lapping Silverton’s 5 blocks, looking for evidence of Natty and Buster. With the Explorer Club closed, the Miner’s Tavern was the only shot, so we strolled in to surprised looks from the regulars. The bartender only eyed us for a second before he said, “You’re lookin’ for Bruce. Just left.” Already tired, we retire for the night.

I’d like to break from this little narrative for a second, and examine what happens to a room occupied by skiers for more than 20 or 30 seconds, especially when those skiers have been eating burritos and beef jerky during the preceding 3 hours. The stench is thick and palpable: noxious gases from bodies and too-little washed capilene ally with the thick layer of cigarette smoke from the bar to combat the ever-dominant reek of aged boots curing by the heater. Late in to the night, the sounds of this battle are still evident, peppered with periodic laughs and groans because, frankly, farts never stop being funny.

The morning was clear, and bitter cold. Although there was no wind, -15F is a daunting temperature to contemplate. The bright alpine sun of the southwest mountains soon brought the mercury to a respectable zero, so Floater and I headed north for a tour in Minnehaha basin. A few hours of mellow skinning up a road found us at treeline, where we dug a pit and found the most rotten looking snowpack we’d ever seen. After counting 22 layers above a foot of pure sugar, we scored a 1 on the Rutschblock and saw the first layer go with only two wrist taps on the shovel test. Yikes. We decided to ski below treeline.

http://home.cwru.edu/~asc12/mh02.jpg
Minehaha basin in the summer. The lunch cabin is the lower of the two.

Following the skintrack, we soon came upon a little cabin, privately owned, with a nice wooden deck basking in the sun. Unloading our packs, we devour the PB&J’s and some more beef jerky.

The ski down was awesome. Still in view of the breathtaking peaks defining the basin, we descended Southwest back to the Gladstone mine. The snow was soft, and we had almost 2000’ of fluffy descent, periodically stopping for breath and to share too-good-to-be-true grins. Although it hadn’t snowed in several weeks, this pitch hadn’t been skied and we had fresh, calf-to-thigh deep snow all to ourselves.

We wandered back down to Silverton, and did what any respectable pair of dirtbags would do when faced with the stupendous beauty of a bluebird day in the San Juans: we took a nap. Perhaps it’s the lack of oxygen at the altitude, or perhaps it’s the work I did that day, but I’ve rarely had a finer little snooze. Gradually awakened by the severity of our own odors, we showered and headed back down to Durango to meet Cletus at the airport.

[Cornholio]

As we roll back in to Silverton, we head straight to the only place the rest of the crew is sure to be found. We find Bustah and Natty knuckled up to the bar, patiently waiting for our return. Due to (ahem) budgetary constraints, Rev and I hadn’t skied Silverton that day, but Buster, John, Natty, and Joe had. We swapped stories and laughs, but existing in Silverton is a tiring thing, and our 8:00 breakfast brewha seemed suddenly very near.

Friday morning was as brittle as my boogers were by the time I reached the Avalanche Coffee House. Pinner, ever anxious, had already sped on up to the area, and the rest of us finished our stimulants in a knot of nervous energy and soon chugged up to join him. Cletus, Rev, and I in our Silverado 2500 followed Joe, John, Natty and Buster in their Suburban. Before we had burned 22 gallons between us, we were 2 miles up the road, giddily gearing up at the Silverton Base.

As we’ve heard, the base of Silverton Mountain is merely a tent with a school bus full of rental gear behind it. We fidget through the safety meeting, and the safety talk, then bolt down to the lift where our 8 was to have first chair. The first lift ride is a bone-chilling event, but you soon pop out in to the dazzling sunlight of the San Juans which warms you up pretty darn fast. Our guide, Mike B., packed an entire can of chew in to his mouth, and pointed us up the Ridge. Gasping, wheezing, panting, plodding one foot in front of the other, I struggle to follow Natty’s blistering pace, but soon realize that conservation is the word of the day, and fall in to a nice “kick, plant, step, breathe” rhythm. Endorphins and adrenaline combine with the morning’s double mocha to propel me to the jump-off point, and we plunge off one by one into some seriously sketchy snow. Wind buff on crust cover a layer of sugar, with some faceted granite base. I’m instantly worried, but 500 feet down the ridge and one minor casualty later, we’re in to the real goods, and no one else worries about hip-checking a rock for the rest of the day.

I can’t describe where we went, but it was downhill, and a lot of it. There were open faces, trees, rocks, ropes, and 4 runs of deep, untracked snow. Now, four runs doesn’t sound like much, perhaps, but it was all steep, intense, deep and soft, all surrounded by the bluebird majesty of one of the world’s most beautiful mountain ranges. Plus, let’s not forget that you’re only 2/3rds of the way up the hill when you offload the chair. After that, it’s usually hike, hike, and hike. If there was more vertical to be had that day, my Cleveland legs and lungs would not have been impressed. In fact, I sat out the third run to make sure I could ski the fourth. There are worse things than sitting in the sun, surrounded by mountains.

For our quick lunch break, Pinner breaks out the spread. Chicken, pasta, brownies… all delicious, homemade, and the perfect way to power through an afternoon. Let me tell you, the Colonel has NUTHIN’ on original recipe PFC.

Our crew was awesome. Hoots, grins, jabs, jokes, laughs, support, and egos checked at the door was the theme of the day. We showed Mike what we could ski and he took us to the goods. And, let me tell you, the goods at Silverton are good. Mike is a fucking awesome skier. I think, and I could be wrong, but I think that if you skied at Silverton every day, you’d be a bad-ass too. As we grabbed beers at the end of the day, our little posse sat around and shared the Knowing Smile, wordlessly remembering moments and dreaming of tomorrow. Pinner headed off to a Galactic show in Telluride, his ass packed in ice and his ice packed in his seat.

Before any tomorrow was to be had, however, the town of Silverton was going to show us how she can get loose with the best of the mountain towns: the winter carnival was that week. We’d missed the dog parade and the Yukigassen Snow Battle, we were late for the Community Games at the Winter Recreation Center, but the Bluegrass Show was on.

Now, Cletus hates hippies. Really, he hates ‘em with all the combined bitterness of his advanced age. We had to tie him up, and restrain him from shouting things like “your patchouli smells worse than your BO!” and “Your mom’s vegetarian gas is the real cause of global warming!” and “White people don’t look good with dreadlocks!” Although he scowled and shot us all mean looks, I’m pretty sure I saw his toe tapping before too long. I don’t remember the name of the band, but it was a lot of fun. Even for hippie haters.

After a few hours, the exertion of the day took its toll and we wandered back to our respective holes, to breathe deeply the day’s perfume and prepare for tomorrow, when Hev and Foggy arrive.

[Cornholio]

Chapter 3.

[Foggy_Goggles]

Rev: "Hey Aaron, what should I do with my poles"

Aaron: "I duno, do what ever you want"

said as Aaron drops outta sight on a 100' rope assisted down climb into Below Me, a customer first decent.

[Cornholio]

That part's coming....

[The Reverend Floater]

Rev: "Dude, I don't know if I'll make the fifth lap. My legs are cramping and I might need to evaluate after this pitch."
Natty Dread: "No, actually Foggy and I have already evaluated you."
Foggy Goggles: "Yeah, you're coming. And Cletus has some Labia Lube in his glove compartment if that's what you need."

I made the fifth lap.

[truth]

The quality, content and quantity or TR's has made quatum leaps this season. Nice!

[Woodsy]

Valentine's Day, well
I went to an Art Gallery opening of a friends in Park City followed by drinks. Then I had a lovely dinner with my lady complete with candles & champagne. followed by her putting on an outfit she definately couldn't fly fish in.....

How was your dia de amour AC?

Originally posted by Cornholio
The stench is thick and palpable: noxious gases from bodies and too-little washed capilene ally with the thick layer of cigarette smoke from the bar to combat the ever-dominant reek of aged boots curing by the heater. Late in to the night, the sounds of this battle are still evident, peppered with periodic laughs and groans because, frankly, farts never stop being funny.
.

nice work boys, can't wait to hear more

[altachic]

this is good stuff. come on cornholio, more!

[hev]

http://www.hevenor.com/adam/img/silv...aron_brill.jpg
our fearless leader

http://www.hevenor.com/adam/img/silv...ridge_line.JPG
view up the ridge

http://www.hevenor.com/adam/img/silv...erton_hev1.JPG
http://www.hevenor.com/adam/img/silv...erton_hev2.JPG
views on the way up

http://www.hevenor.com/adam/img/silverton/foggy.JPG
foggy eyeing the hike

http://www.hevenor.com/adam/img/silv...natty_hike.JPG
natty on the ridge

http://www.hevenor.com/adam/img/silverton/hev_top.JPG
me at the top

http://www.hevenor.com/adam/img/silverton/stan.JPG
stan

http://www.hevenor.com/adam/img/silverton/the_goods.JPG
scoping the goods

http://www.hevenor.com/adam/img/silv..._dread_ski.jpg
natty livin large

http://www.hevenor.com/adam/img/silverton/jon_ski.JPG
jon

http://www.hevenor.com/adam/img/silverton/skier_low.JPG

[Schmear]

http://home.cwru.edu/~asc12/mh02.jpg

I can't stop staring at this photo.

[raddam]

AWESOME!!!
Lets get some in the Elks next trip
can't wait to rip with you all some day!

still want more

[slippy]

Originally posted by Cornholio
Chapter 1.

We dug a pit and found the most rotten looking snowpack we’d ever seen. After counting 22 layers above a foot of pure sugar, we scored a 1 on the Rutschblock and saw the first layer go with only two wrist taps on the shovel test. Yikes.

Honestly, is there any place in North America that has worse snowpack than that mountain range? It freaked the fuck out me when I was there, too.

[truth]

Originally posted by Schmear
http://home.cwru.edu/~asc12/mh02.jpg

I can't stop staring at this photo.

The San Juans are truly one of NA's gems. Awesome in the winter, but fucking unreal in the summer.

[ak_powder_monkey]

Originally posted by hev

http://www.hevenor.com/adam/img/silverton/skier_low.JPG

Whats with the strait line

[up an down]

Originally posted by ak_powder_monkey
Whats with the strait line

it's the shortest distance between 2 points

[P4TRi5H4]

shweeeeet pics hev

[Cornholio]

bump for chapter 2!

[Tippster]

Originally posted by hev http://www.hevenor.com/adam/img/silv...erton_hev1.JPG

Is that the new Giro Furry?

[Yossarian]

LOL, very funny Cornhole, very funny.

The band's name was Badly Bent, or something similar sounding.

-gramps

[Pinner]

Hooray for Chapter 2!!!

[natty dread]

Awesome reports cornhole, keep em coming!
Natty's take on silverton coming soon...

[Crinkle]

That's some good shit right there. Can't wait for the final instalment.

Pinner, how was Galactic? those guys rock, saw 'em at the Fillmore last fall

and Hev, you and Funkendrenchmen should start a hair club.

[13]

Haven't been lurking much lately but thanks for the read.

Bump

[Pinner]

Galactic was FUN.

...but mine's a whole other TR to come.