Your Most Epic Trip Thread

[rushbikes]

Finally, 80 degrees and sunny here in the Northeast, and already doing my dirtiest snowdance for next season. Skiing's on the mind and want to start planning an epic trip for 2014. So, tell me about your most epic ski trip. Need some ideas!

Here are a few of my most epic ones (in order of epicness):
1) Las Lenas
2) AK
3) Niseko

[Pow4Brains]

*NSFW*

http://www.tetongravity.com/forums/s...FW*?highlight=

[JTrue]

http://www.tetongravity.com/forums/s...ight=haines+ak

[Buster Highmen]

Silver Mountain/Montana Snow Bowl/Lost Trail/Montana Snow Bowl/Discovery Basin/Bridger Bowl/Big Sky/Jackson Hole/Sun Valley in the late 80s/early 90s (Sublette quad changed us away from JH)

49 Degrees North/Red Mountain/Whitewater/Retallack/Whitewater. 1992?

Monashee Powder Adventures/Silver Star/Big White 1994?

La Grave/Serre Chevalier/Puy St. Vincent/Vars-Risoul/Alagna-Zermatt-Champoluc-Gressoney-Alagna(all in 1 day)/La Thuile-LaRosiere over 4 weeks in 1996

La Grave/Montgenevre-Claviere-San Sicario/Val Frejus/Mont Cenis/Val Thorens/Serre Chevalier over 4 weeks in 1997.

Andermatt/secret farmers lift/Disentis/Engleberg in 9 days in 2012.

Snow Basin/Silverton-Kendall Mountain Center/Wolf Creek/Taos/Ski Santa Fe/Silverton/Telluride/Silverton/Solitude/Snowbasin (20 days and 1 night over 23 days of driving) in 2013.

[XXX-er]

What does epic mean to you?

[XXX-er]

nope never been to any of them ... guess I the suck eh?


But the reason I ask is because epic could mean epic nasty conditions, epic good conditions, epic suffering ... epic what have you?

[icelanticskier]

DETROIT. the destination is only a fraction of what makes for an epic trip

rog

[sillybunt2]

Grizzly coming down uptrack!

[rushbikes]

But the reason I ask is because epic could mean epic nasty conditions, epic good conditions, epic suffering ... epic what have you?

Not so much interested in the semantics of epic as whatever anyone feels was epic to them. Epic to me encompasses the totality of the experience. Las Lenas reigned supreme for me because of the uniqueness of it being pretty far off the grid (albeit at a resort), killer terrain hikeable as far as the eye can see, the sheer rugged beauty of the Andes, great snow (at least when I was there) and the raging nightlife with a great community vibe since most people stay a full week at only a handful of hotels so you're bound to run into the same groups on the mountain that you partied with the night before. Plus a ton of pros showed up the week I was there, some of whom I practically worshiped growing up. All in all, an absolutely epic experience (for me).

[icelanticskier]

Not so much interested in the semantics of epic as whatever anyone feels was epic to them. Epic to me encompasses the totality of the experience. Las Lenas reigned supreme for me because of the uniqueness of it being pretty far off the grid (albeit at a resort), killer terrain hikeable as far as the eye can see, the sheer rugged beauty of the Andes, great snow (at least when I was there) and the raging nightlife with a great community vibe since most people stay a full week at only a handful of hotels so you're bound to run into the same groups on the mountain that you partied with the night before. Plus a ton of pros showed up the week I was there, some of whom I practically worshiped growing up. All in all, an absolutely epic experience (for me).

sounds like whistler is your place. much easier travel, no acclimatization, and zero language barrier.

rog

[Scotsman50]

My most "epic" trips have always been defined by the people I was with and met rather the places I went.
The Spearhead traverse with my son.
My first Valle Blanche with my good friend PNWBrit.
The first time my wife skied the Crystal sidecountry with me.
Meeting and being adopted by a group of BC bros in Shames mountain for a month.

[hatchgreenchile]

First trip to the West as a young buck. Hit the 'Bird during a 3 day 40" storm . Blew my fucking mind.

Had better days since then, but you always remember the first time you choked on powder

[Blizzard7763]

DETROIT. the destination is only a fraction of what makes for an epic trip

rog

Seconded...I've had my share of epic Detroit moments.

Ski trip? 17 days in Cham/verb. I've skied better conditions in the states, but getting out of the country alone is unbeatable. The terrain is mind blowing.

[baron]

Personally; a trip to Taos was one of the most EPIC memories. Ride there from southern New Mexico was quite remote and real trippy.Saw the biggest elk ever crossing the highway(was so big it hid a whole herd behind it/up in tall SUV & this thing was lookin down on us) Snow was shitty...but the atmosphere around the area is way cool...unless you're a uptight yuppy,though even they have a nitch there.. Way big mountain to explore and the steeps live up to their reputation.P>S> lookout 4 spider bites,I almost died 2 weeks after the trip....black widow bite on scalp! Can't wait to hit it again ,with some POW.

[Meadow Skipper]

Emigrant Basin Wilderness CA, 1973 - can't count the ways I almost died.
Mt. Moran, WY 2009.
The next one.

[MTT]

I have had many, many great Ski days Ski trips.
Not to get all corny but some of the maggot gatherings have been my favorite in the past Decade

Mammoth Mini 2006? All Maggot Line up


Gordy Camp year 1? Standing among TGR rock stars


My First Summer Tour on Gear I learned about HERE on TGR


Another Mammoth Mini Shot Watching people take some serious Terrain


Portillo I caught a perfect week ski pow in the Sun 4 of 6 days

[XXX-er]

sounds like whistler is your place. much easier travel, no acclimatization, and zero language barrier.

rog

Yes but understanding the brits and auzzies is always challenging, personally the place drives me crazy, of course YMMV

[Crystal_Mt_Dreamin]

Paging Schralph Macchio to the courtesy thread....

[icelanticskier]

Yes but understanding the brits and auzzies is always challenging, personally the place drives me crazy, of course YMMV

i hear ya there, but i'm always so fucking distracted by all the babes when i've been there (usually early mid april for pow in the alpine, or sun, and still t2b skiing, and reduced rates") that i'm usually just smiling and or skiing. love the in and out of bounds terrain and big vert. closest thing to yurp (but hardly close, but more dependable snow) without having to go across the pond.

nice to see folks sharing some fond memories from good times past. for me it's all bout the turns. could be anywhere, but when turns are good at home there's no where else i'd rather be.

i often think back to these turns on the east snowfields of mt washington on june 1st 1995. drove up expecting the worst weather. but after gaining 4800 vert from great glen (in my jeep) i found a completely clean canvas and blue sky appearing above the valley murk. hadn't made a tele turn in years, but the snow was so good i just couldn't help myself

can still feel these turns: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L6korU8FgnM

rog

[garyfromterrace]

Now to be clear, I used to always think of an "epic" as an unplanned near death retreat. However the term now seems to mean a potentially pleasurable experience. This was pretty pleasurable (even if it's pretty long-winded)

http://www.tetongravity.com/forums/s...eed-beta/page2

But, there's been scads of others:
- Summer rd trip with my kid (and some cool activities and mag meets)
- touring w my kid (pretty much any time)
- 1st winter at Tod mtn (it was a trip man)
- climbing Dunn Peak w Robbo
- Burnie Hut trips (pretty much any time)
- Whitefish, Fernie trips with fubsie
- Louise trips with Edmonton crew
.... so many... and many more to come!

[baron]

correction....MOST ePIC TrIp ,was Exodus mosh pit ,in '93 ,on three hits of AciD

[detrusor]

Drove to targhee in 1990 for opening day. Rolled the car, taped in the windows and continued. Slept incar in lot, woke up to huge day. Buddy spilled his breakfast in to some racer kids boot, proceeded to poor it back onto his plate and eat it.

[XXX-er]

ski for 24 hrs straight

[Buster Highmen]

Going out of Glendive MT, a rusted Detroit boat veered over to the shoulder, a gargantuan behemoth of a station wagon. It sat low on it's springs and blew blue. Jon and I jogged up and looked in. In the passenger seat sat a grizzled lank guy about 45 or fifty. At the helm sat an old hooker with spackled kohl and maplike eyepaint.

"We're going to Williston, then North she said. Jon and I ran back, grabbed
the stash cans, duffles and skis and loaded in andcarved off into the early night.

Ka-keeeek/chunk...ka-kreeeeeek/kachunk closed the doors. Metallic stale
cigarette smoke, faint waft of pot and piles of beer cans. Lucky lager.
Ripped vinyl seats, foam stuffing flecks, candy wrappers old newspapers.

The tank crawled back onto the freeway, wheezing and rattlings in vague
threats of failure. Masses of rusted plates clanked and the paintchips
strained at holding the car together.

Jon sat behind the driver and I sat behind the passenger.

"Thanks for the ride" said Jon in an uncharacteristically loquacious
mien. "Yeah, thanks" I echoed.

All that day, the drivers who had picked us up had mentioned how dangerous
hitchhiking had become, a few seasoning us with tales of murders, rape
and robbery. While we knew that these things were a remote possibility,
I always dismissed them to the back of my mind. Denial is such a powerful
coping mechanism.

The woman asked us where we were going. Again Jon spoke up.

"Madison" he said and then offered the driver and passenger some of our
crummy weed. I thought this was really weird for Jon, but I suspected that
he was a little uneasy, as was I. The guy in the passenger slumped and
mumbled and appreciative response, so Jon twisted up a quick reefer.

We passed the joint around, our benefactors greedily sucking on the joint.

Then for some reason, Jon again began to thank them for the ride.

"Yeah" he continues, "we got a lot of flack about how dangerous this is
and stuff...so thanks for picking us up. We're not any trouble..."

At those words, the passenger whipped around and pointed a .45 handgun
about and inch from my face.

"Trouble?" he uttered, "we're ready for trouble..."

Never in my entire life had my cerebellum and my cerebrum been at such odds. The smooth muscles of my sphincter and the gorge of my
throat clenched in a frenzied effort to expel all matter from their respective caches.

Meanwhile, what little shred of presence of my mind remained desperately
clung to the old fashioned notion that soiling the car with shit and vomit
would not be well received.

Then the guy gave me a toothy smile and put the gun down chuckling.

I looked at Jon who now had a goggle eyed look of abject terror. I mouthed
"Shut the fuck up" at him. Of course, I was at a complete loss for what to do.

The old guy handed me the joint. I told him my name. He told me his name was Mike. Then he offered us beers.

My hands were shaking uncontrollably. I still thought I was going to puke.
I took the beer as calmly as I could fake, ripped it open and chugged down
as much as I could. I have never been a beer drinker, but I thought if I
could make my throat consume something, it would lose the notion of purging.

And so began a long sling into the night. I figured honesty was the best
policy, so I told the old whore and Mike that we were headed to Madison to
try to score some good hash.

In reciprocity, Mike told us that he had killed a guy in Michigan and had
been hiding out in Wyoming for a couple of years and was nearly arrested,
but shot the officer trying to cuff him. They were now on the run to North
Dakota where they could hide out for a while.

My attempt at honesty made me feel a little better for a while. I couldn't
figure out if they were just pulling my leg or if they were really telling
the truth.

In any case, for hours in that backseat I would be randomly seized with an
overwhelming panic that at any moment, we were going down some side road and someone would find our bleached bones years from this night of stupidity.
Fatigue and fear kept me awake as the four of us shared pot, beer and
cigarettes into the American night.
It was a long ride that night, both literally and
figuratively. Looking down the wrong end of a large
handgun has had a lasting effect. Since that night,
playing honestly, looking directly into the moment
became a maxim and a goal.

Mike and the old hooker, who never did tell us her
name, dropped us off in Williston and motored off. I
can't say if I'd ever been more relieved.

Sticking to I-94 was part of the strategy, but figured
we could find a place to crash somewhere at the UND
Williston campus since we did get a decent ride.
Little did we realize how different a world this was.

We dragged our duffles and the skis a couple of miles
over to the campus. To our surprise, the place was
locked up tight. Every student we saw, when
approached, ran off and hid, pulling curtains and
closing doors in their wake.

Exhausted isn't a sufficient word for the way I felt:
hung with weight, depressed, confused and leaden.
Exasperated, Jon and I wandered into a field near the
dorms and collapsed. We each pulled out the blankets
Doc had given to us and rolled up in it
out in the field. I passed out.

Then something woke me up. I didn't really understand
it at the time and I was so dog tired, I just wanted
to sleep some more, but something wasn't right. I
listened. Nothing. I couldn't see anything unusual and
my mind bounced back and forth between
going back to sleep and trying to figure out what the
matter was. I thought that maybe I had to piss or
something, so I sat up.

Then I fell over.

I sat up again and again toppled over, scraping my
face on the brush and rocks. I began to realize what
was going on. My arms were useless, limp and numb. My
legs were numb.

At that moment, I knew that I had to get up or I was
going to freeze to death. I felt warm and tired and
just ached to lay back down and forget about it. But I
knew if I did, I'd die.

So I began to flop. I thrashed. I raked my face
several times across the scrub and stones in the
field. I flapped my arms for aeons and finally they
came back with that wretched electric tingling. Then I
could at least sit up
and use my arms to steady myself while I kicked the
blood back into my legs. That also took an eternity,
but finally I was able to stand up and stagger over to
where Jon lay.

I toed Jon several times, eliciting a stream of dopey
verbal abuse. "Get up" I said "get up, Jon, we're
freezing to death".

Jon sat up about to give me the what for and promptly
fell over. The next time I saw his face, I could see
the terror on it. I watched him thrash and buck the
blood back into his system until he could get up.

We didn't talk much, but with the temperatures in the
teens, we knew we had to get inside. So dragging our
stuff, we sluffed into the town looking for a place to
get warm.

[Anospa]

I fell down a flight of stairs once back in school after rolling my ankle on the top step. Happened in front of the campus center, a hundred people must've seen me eat shit.