End of Autumn

Thanksgiving here on the Eastside always seems to signify, to me, the last days of fall. Even if we have been skiing for a month, the waning leaves still cling to the landscape like patches of autumn light. This fall was noteworthy here in the Sierra due to it’s intensity and length.

It seems that sometime in late September, or early October of any given year, we are struck by the onset of vibrant color, and every year we wonder if it isn’t somehow more showy than the year before. But this year really did seem different with the colors spreading in a time laps across the range in a sequence lasting well over a month.

It was a fine fall to be home, shooting in the Range of Light.

Journey to center of Sierra Nevada Wilderness

I recently came across a USGS map showing DNR or “distance to nearest road”. As populous as California is, we place 4th behind Wyoming, Montana and Utah (Alaska never counts in superlatives!).  Though only thirteen air miles from a road, the California location is a three day walk from our home in the eastern Sierra.

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Sierra Columbine

Great wildflower year here in the Sierra. Recently I’ve been working Eastside canyons in particular to hunt down sierra Columbines. The Sierra Nevada have two prominent Columbines; the Crimson columbine (Aquilegia formosa) and the Alpine or Sierra Columbine (Aquilegia pubescens). The Crimson is the common red columbine seen at lower elevations. The latter has larger, all cream to yellow flowers with longer, more delicate spurs. Flowers are erect, not nodding, and the form is similar to the Colorado columbine (Aquilegia coerulea). The Sierra Columbine is native to the central Sierra Nevada, at middle to high elevations. When the Sierra and Crimson grow in close proximity, the result can show in a rainbow of color morphs.

Bristlecone Pine

I have always been fascinated with the Bristlecone Pine, as much for it’s native habitat as that of it’s “oldest tree” status. For me, the high ranges of the Great Basin are an aesthetic and austere blend of desert and alpine. Combined with a geologic landscape of limestone, these mountains are apparently ideal for trees, specificly Bristlecone, to last a long time.

The oldest living tree known is a bristlecone pine nicknamed Methuselah.  However, this patriarchic status was not always the case. The age of Methuselah was measured by core samples in 1957 to be 4,789 years old, but shortly there after another tree was found to be much older.

In 1964, in the Snake Range of eastern Nevada, a student of the University of North Carolina was taking core samples of bristlecones. He discovered that a tree known as “Prometheus” in a cirque below Wheeler Peak was over 4,000 years old. When his coring tool broke trying to get an accurate age,  the U.S. Forest service granted permission to cut down “Prometheus”. 4,844 rings were counted on a cross-section of the tree, making “Prometheus” at least 4,844 years old, the oldest non-clonal living thing known to man.

Snake Range

Spring travels

We had a good spring shoot this year, following wildflower blooms from our home in the eastern Sierra to Carrizo Plain, northern Arizona and the Mojave. Blooms were outstanding, but late due to the wests cold spring.

Walk the Sky receives IPPY Gold

Our book, Walk the Sky: Following the John Muir Trail has received the prestigious IPPY Gold medal for West-Pacific – Best Regional Non-Fiction. We are very proud and would like to thank Jane Freeburg at Companion Press as well as writer Mark Schlenz.

Spring Wildflowers

While we have had an abundance of precip here in the last several months, flowers have been slow to respond.  Last week, Death Valley was very green, but not really all that much in bloom. This week Scalebud or Desert Dandelion (I’m not sure which) are blooming profusely along sections of the Owens Valley. Perhaps in a week or two things will really be happening.

In the meantime I would like to share a collection of desert wildflower images of past years.

Dangers of Backcountry Skiing

Avalanche debris, Convict Canyon

I was recently asked the following questions on facebook regarding backcountry skiing:

“So is it just rolling the dice everytime you drop in? Is there really anyway to mitigate some of the risk, short of staying home? Yeah, I’ve had avy 1, can evaluate terrain and select relatively safer routes, and hopefully find a buried beacon. But digging test pits is awfully time consuming and just seems like trying to assuage your fears with a bunch of numbers. Besides, I’ve been here all winter, I know the snow pack history.”

“You ski alone frequently, no? Do you feel as safe alone, or safer?”

Thirty-five years ago when I first started wandering in the winter landscape, it was all about avoiding avalanche paths.  It was all about just being in the mountains, not skiing them.  As times and ability have changed, it’s now about both.  Many of us now seek out “exciting” ski runs which are actually avalanche paths.

So is it “rolling the dice” every time you drop into an avy path? Yes.

The more experience one has regarding terrain, snow pack, weather etc. the more one can stack the odds in their favor. Conversely the more you know, the more you can rationalize the risk (for better or worse).  Every time we venture into the mountains we need to evaluate the risks, whether it be climbing, skiing, etc. We then must weigh those risks, make decisions and proceed one way or another. The harsh reality is that when we go in the mountains, there is no guarantee we are going to come back alive.  Skiing avalanche paths, especially in winter, is a crap shoot. You can limit your liability through education and experience, but in the end there are no guarantees.

I ski alone for several reasons; I’m unorganized and rarely plan ahead and I like, at times, being alone in the mountains. The main reason I rarely ask other people to ski with me is that I found several years ago a burden of responsibility; people (some partners but mostly spouses) thought that they or their loved ones, would be “safe” if they went skiing with me.  This is a responsibility I am unwilling to accept.

When I’m alone, I am responsible for my own actions, when I ski with others I would like them to be responsible for theirs. This is in no way to suggest I don’t accept group input, on the contrary, group input and communication is vital and I will be the first to “back off” something if someone voices concern.  But on the same note, if everyone agrees to a decision, and something happens, I don’t want the burden of responsibility because I’m the guy with the most experience.

Do I feel “safe or safer” when I ski alone?  Most of my judgments are based on being alone. For the most part I’m not going to take additional risk because someone else is there (I can think of some exceptions).  If something catastrophic happens, it of course doesn’t matter one way or another. But, if you get hurt, you’ll be wishing you had a partner or good cell phone coverage.

California Desert

Last spring I had the opportunity to shoot an assignment for a consortium of conservation organizations. We traveled to many very remote, yet unprotected areas of the California desert. These images were used to create awareness of these areas that are now included in Senate Bill S 2921 (California Desert Protection Act of 2010). For more info and a slide show of images go to http://www.californiadesert.org/

South Salt Spring Hills and the Avawatz Mountains, Avawatz Mountains Wilderness Study Area, Mojave Desert, CA

Return to Mt Tom

Last weekend Stuart Wilkinson, Janine Patitucci and I did a long ski up (and down!) the eastside of Mt Tom here in the eastern Sierra. It Was the first time I had been back to that mountain on skis since my friend Will Crljenko died there in an avalanche back in ‘o5.

It was a beautiful day, great snow and good friends. Here is a little home movie tribute to Will and a celebration of Mt Tom and the Eastside.