A few weeks ago, I got on a bike for the first time in a long time. To keep with my single-mindedness, it was solely to approach the Fellowship on Ross Peak.
I had just fallen asleep when I was thrown awake from the house violently moving. It felt as if I was the inside of the present for a kid on Christmas morning — getting tossed violently in every direction.
It is no longer the case, as John Muir once said, that the mountains are calling. The recent teenagers of the mountains of old have, for once and for good, become hip again.
While planning large trips, either for a week of climbing in the desert or a hut-to-hut ski trip, one of the first considerations is gear.
To Whom It May Concern:
Your skis aren’t the problem, bro. It’s not their fault you didn’t stick that landing, that you went tomahawking down Flippers the other day.