Editor's Note: This is an excerpt from Jeremy Jones' No Words For The Way Down, the book, now available in the TGR Shop.
FEBRUARY 23, 2011
It was a memorable day in the mountains. We ascended under the stars with the aid of our headlamps, too anxious to check out the west end of the valley to wait for the sun to rise. The climb to the top freaked me out. The internal dialogue began: “Why am I still doing this? This will be my last movie. There are too many X-factors. Business is taking too much of my time and brain power. It is irresponsible to take such risks.”
The snow was deep and the terrain very steep. Surrounded by rock ribs on all sides, the run was made up of technical spines with multiple rollovers and tricky exits. I took extra time to scope the line, got my bearings and rode down clean. Four hours later, I went on a solo climb up the face that had slid on Mitch and Bibi yesterday. It looked like a crime scene. My memory replayed the events. We were worked up to the upper pocket sliding. We knew it would be small if it went. We felt OK about the consequences. Then it slid. The ride was fast and violent. Mitch and Bibi were not buried and were fine. They could have been hurt for sure, but it would not have been fatal. Still, it was a lesson learned—we got ahead of ourselves and took an unnecessary risk.
Today, I passed the high point, avoided the hang fire, and enjoyed a knife-edge ridge walk. Then I chilled on the peak for 30 minutes. The views were amazing: a rich blue sky rolling down to the hut 1,500 feet below. With yesterday’s slide on my left and another one on my right, I rode a spine with many outs if it did move. Edmands’ camera failed him. Such is life—it was still an amazing run done for love of the sport. An hour later, Mitch drilled the line of the trip across the valley. Edmands nailed it. All is good.
This is an excerpt from Jeremy Jones' No Words For The Way Down, a book that goes deep into Jeremy's mind-set throughout the six years of filming the Deeper, Further, Higher trilogy. Read excerpts from Jeremy's personal journal entries, see stunning, never before seen photographs, and access exclusive footage. Books are on sale now in the TGR Shop.
Thanks to our partners—Swatch, O'Neill and Clif Bar—for making this project possible!
Paradise cabin in the ghost town of Gothic, CO. Morgan Tilton photo. We skied into a Dalmatian coat of scattered wood-frame buildings cushioned by a white blanket of deep snow. To my left, a small cabin with dulled evergreen frames and upside-down antlers nailed above the front door was righteously called, , denoted by its sign and dated back to 1935. The half-buried doorway and snowdrift, which inched up by the minute, made me chuckle for the shack’s name: This valley was already chalking
During Sego Ski Co.'s relatively short history, Ron Murray has become sort of a local legend. His 20-plus years of ski repair experience, combined with his time working in manufacturing and his wholesome philosophy on skiing (and snowboarding) has made Ron an integral part of the Sego team and brand. Ron is pretty much everything you look for in a ski tech. His gentle demeanor breathes wisdom and humility, and it shows in his craft. After all, aren't our skis just an extension of our feet?
Greg Von Doersten (or GVD) has been photographing with TGR since the beginning. He met founders Todd and Steve Jones back in the early 90's when they were still skiing for Marmot and filming by themselves with local Jackson Hole crushers. "They were getting it done," Von Doersten told me. "They wanted to see more line skiing and airs in films so they started to develop their own signature thing. I was like 'dang these guys are legit and they are kind of my style.'" Von Doersten