Please to join me as I recap last weekend's terrifying adventure in the Northernmost Frosty Fjords of the Keweenaw Penninsula of Michigan's grim and frostbitten UP. Saturday I planned on skiing the EXTREME slpoes of Mt. Bohemia while Sunday I would blaspheme Jehova by skiing the horrifying Chute That Should Not Be on the north face of the Mountain of Madness. The forecast for Sat. didn't look so grim - upper 20's and sunny.In tribute to the Necrowizard I blasted Northernmost Antarctic Freezer and 6rim 6oat 6angbang all the way to the hill. My strategy worked and the Necrowizard summoned some grim and frostbitten clouds to obscure the gay Sun. As I neared Mt. Bohemia, I saw something which I hadn't seen since December - the road!
The Gaperhoards of Nebula had scraped the shit out of the Crackcountry, but the gloomy and spooky Haunted Valley and Outer Limits were still relatively untouched. Pooping Werewolf in the Haunted Valley:
Uranus in the Outer Limits:
Some shot way down in the Outer Limits:
Jer's secret chute in the Haunted Valley:
For some reason all the Gaperhoards of Blashyrk gravitate to the Crackcountry. I could hear thier mating calls from the lift - "WOOO-HOOOO!!" followed by "Sa-LAAAP!!!" followed by "Fuck!" followed by the answering calls of "Yeah, dude!". Here are some grim Gaperhoards on the chair in front of me.
"You got your pack full of family-sized sub sandwiches and adult diapers?"
"You know it, bro! You gonna get in a dogfight with The Red Baron later?"
"Hells yeah!":
I figured I should try to get some action shots so you guys wouldn't be stuck looking at the tips of my skis, so I waited by the bottom of a small cliff to completely flat landing in the Crackcountry for some extreme skiers to do a twister-spread or something. They must have all been in the yurts eating thier gigantic sub sandwiches, drinking thier Gaperade and changing thier adult diapers. After fifteen minutes of waiting for a victim, I gave up and went back to the blood-drenched Haunted Valley. Still nobody back there. But with runs named "Thirsty Vampire", would you dare ski there? I didn't think so!:
This next photo was taken in the Outer Limits, near the grim cave of the Morbid Necromoose of Mt. Bohemia:
Later in the afternoon the Gaperhoards discovered the Haunted Valley and Outer Limits. The basterd sun came out, too. Very un-grim. So I headed back to Motel Hell. I needed to save my strength for my assault on the Mountain of Madness tomorrow. This next photo is of icy and sorrowful Lake Superior - the same lake that claimed the Edmund Fitzgerald and all aboard. She may have broke up or she may have capsized - she may have broke deep and took water. Or she may have been eaten by the evil and mighty LEVIATHAN!! FEARLESS WRETCH! INSANITY! HE WATCHES - LURKING BENEATH THE SEA!!Hail grim Lake of Death!:
Sunday I woke up late with a massive headache. After a quick breakfast of Frostbitten Flakes, I loaded up my shit and drove to the trailhead to the Mountain of Madness. I cranked Bjork all the way. "But Jer," you may say, "Bjork isn't grim or even frostbitten!" How wrong you would be! Bjork is from Iceland, which is even farther north than Norwegia. Plus - remember when she beat the hell out of that Japanese reporter? Besides, for some reason "Army of Me" gets me fired up to pound up a skin track.
The following is a pic of Necrobeaver Meadow, halfway up the skintrack to the summit of the Mountain of Madness:
Nearing the evil, frostbitten summit of TMOM.
Finally I was at my goal: the horrifying Chute That Should Not Be on the north side of TMOM. Men have been known to go insane from just the mere sight of The Chute That Should Not Be, so view the following photos with EXTREME caution. The entrance:
About three turns in, right after my Freerides went into insta-tele mode:
I stopped just before the rollover to clean the shit out of my pants:
The bottom was nice powder thru trees. I skied down to the sledneck trail, then continued for a bit to get some extra slapling shots.
The Chute That Should Not Be from the bottom:
After surviving The Chute That Should Not Be, I skied a few glades off to the west then headed back to the truck. I could have been a poserfag and just followed the sledneck trail back, but I decided to instead ski back down the suncrusted, undulating, slapling infested south face with my skins on. I would have taken some pictures of this grim descent, but I was too busy swearing. Bloody and with a pounding brain, I finally made it back to the truck.
Picturesque Satan's Ridge on the way home:
SATAN!!!:
![]()
Bookmarks