AAS Coupe

During the Tenth Anniversary AAS Annual Adventure Summit Roll Call, El Presidente was conspicuously absent. The standing members voted to dissolve the AAS Government and as a result the El Presidente was demoted to Porter for Life.

ASS Summit 2013

AAS Summit 2011

Finally - after two years of waiting... the 2011 video is IN!  Enjoy.

SLC Summit 2010 - No Bone in the AAS

Alta-nate plans made!

Wednesday: Park City
Thursday: Alta - Boneless
Friday: Alta - Boneless / Brighton to Alta BC
Saturday: Solitude
Sunday: Fly out
 
Kitchen Duty
All screwed up because Bone biffed it.

Beer Mules: Anyone driving in from out of state

Wahatoya: Scree of Vengeance

On West Spanish Peak, no one can hear you scree....

In December 2007, the AAS made a fateful decision to go to Plan B when a raging snowstorm blanketed our favorite ski resort in nearly seven feet of powder. What was Plan A? An ascent of one or both of the Spanish Peaks, sensuously shaped twin peaks towering nearly 7,000 feet above the plains of Colorado half way between Pueblo and the New Mexico border. Wahatoya is the Ute name, roughly translated to mean "breasts of the world" for their shape and the frequent summer thunderstorms that gather at their peaks, bringing rain to the plains that fed the tribes. We vowed we would return, and on November 21, 2008, Paul, Dan, Kirk, and Brian did.

This is what we wished they looked like. West Spanish Peak is on the right.

Usually by November, the taller peaks on the Front Range have a frosting of snow, enough to fill in the nooks and crannies, making climbing a little easier on a carefully-chosen route. From a distance and from the thin route descriptions we could find for West Spanish Peak, we didn't expect much of a challenge in terms of terrain, though snow cover was unseasonably thin. The AAS AAS-embeled at the Wahatoya Trail trailhead after some sleuthing to find it. We began our climb to AAS Base Camp well after sunset, traveling by headlamp under a moonless sky. On the climb, in thin patches of snow that hugged the daytime shadows, we spotted fresh bear tracks, and passed numerous piles of fresh scat -- something we didn't expect to see in late November, but the unseasonably warm weather had probably kept this one from hibernating.

We chose a ready-made campsite at the pass between East and West Spanish Peaks, with ample snow and a pile of dry wood thoughtfully placed by some previous benefactors. The next morning dawned cold but clear, and having gone to bed late after melting snow to refill our water containers, we took our time getting on the trail.

We soon found our way to a ridgeline that we decided we would follow for four steadily climbing miles to the summit, and set ourselves to the task. Below treeline we walked on thin snow cover and forest loam...but as we passed from Spruce forest to open Bristlecone Pine groves at treeline, we emerged into a scree field as far as the eye could see. Hope remained, however, as we simply assumed we'd find a use trail as we climbed higher, or we'd see firm, windpacked snow that we could walk on. It was not to be.

Hopping from ankle-twisting rock to knee-wrenching rock, ranging in size from softballs to small appliances, is hard work. One step is solid, but the next step could have you flailing to stay upright as a hundred pounds of rock slides tinkling from under your weighted boot. We left ABC shortly after 9am, and by noon, we estimated we'd climbed only half way to the summit -- there were nearly 1,500 feet and about 2 miles left. A brief sighting of a small flock of hearty Colorado Bighorn Sheep led by a giant full-curl ram gave us another boost, watching them fairly glide over the loose slopes, but we began to suspect our summit hopes had been dashed. We hiked another mile or so in two hours, and being out of water, searched for a patch of snow to refill from. Here's a collection of videos from Paul taken as we hiked, and after. Walking uphill on scree is hard enough...none of us wanted to walk downhill in the dark, so with a quote on Ed Viesturs' climbing philosophy in our heads, we began our retreat...but not before allowing Eric to partake in a taste of high-altitude camraderie via cell phone.

We finished our trip enjoying a roaring campfire, mountain meals, and spirits while we pondered a return, with skis and snowboards, in spring conditions when firm snow underfoot and longer days above would give us ample time to summit and enjoy the descent as only the AAS can.

Meet Sierra Kolb!

Baylor Peak - Mountain of Flurry

Extreme Pool Party in Las CrucAAS

The Zahnle's treked down to Las Cruces for some mild family fun, but the day quickly turned in to an official AAS event. Things started out at a friends swimming pool with BBQ'd chicken and ribs and cream cheese stuffed, bacon wrapped, Jalapeños. Oh yeah, there was also booze and bravado. Once we got in to pool, things turned extreme quickly!!



Everyone got in on the pool basket ball slam dunk contest. The result was a tie between Paul and Eric - though the photographer deserved all the credit for capturing such fleeting grace.



While there was plenty of danger involved, no major injuries were sustained. Eric scrapped his toe knuckles on the bottom of the pool (there was blood) and one pool chair was destroyed while being used as a diving board.

Next up: Extreme sand sledding!

AAS Plan - D

Yes Folks........ Plan-D. "What's Plan-D" you say? Well it's a long and complex story starting out with me (Paul) doing the usual spring-time whining to the other members that we HAVE to get cracking and climb/ski a 14er! Well after the first plan of 5 members climbing Mt. Sneffels in Colorado fell through because Brian is getting married soon, Eric is getting married soon, Dan having to travel for 5 weeks in a row, etc, etc.. that plan fell through.

So on to Plan-B, 4 members would still do Mt. Sneffels a few weeks later because the snow was sooooo good. Then more "I don't think I can make it, I have to work" and similar lame excuses, Plan-B was canceled.

A few weeks later after I send even more increasingly annoying emails hounding the remaining contestants, Dan, Kirk and I settle on the closer trip and decide to bag the north Face of Lake Fork Peak in Taos! (I've had my eye on it for 2 years since Eric and I saw it from the Gold Hill climb)

Great! 3 AAS members and were all set......... except the week before (after I had a cold ALL WEEK thanks to my kids) Kirk emails Dan and I to tell us some genus at his company pushed out a bad patch to his systems and he's "Knee deep in a Sh*t Storm" and has to rebuild 20, 64 bit servers! So, now he's out... that's it for Plan-C

Time for yes, Plan-D. Dan is still so swamped at work he and I can't even leave Friday AM like I wanted to so we opt for a late Friday night arrival in Taos and spend it drinking in Dan's condo gearing up for the ascent!





The climb in went great and it was good to be back in the woods on skis again. We both needed it but missed our AAS bretheren... After arriving at AABC (AAS Advanced Base Camp) We took an hour to eat and gear up for the ascent and as the barometer dropped we found ourselves in a nice little storm! (who says ski season is over in May!) I was taking bearings back to camp in case it didn't let up, but in typical AAS style, we pushed onward and upward...





The climbing was difficult with my weakness form my cold and rotten patches of slippery dangerous snow we encountered along the way. We plowed on up and finally made the summit!





I was stumbling like a drunk on the last bit so Danny-Boy took the lead and stormed to the summit! Ahhhhhhh now for the reward...





The ski down was AWSOME! Except for me over-cooking it a bit and crashing in the crud-snow and injuring my shoulders, again... Here it is for your sadistic viewing pleasure.






The snow-gods smiled on us as the AAS completed one last ski mountaineering trip for this season! The angry ski demons in my head are quieted for now and the AAS turns it's attention to Mountain Biking! Anyone up for a little trip ? ;-)

Fin'

Bone-Voyage

AAS Members Eric, Dan and Jeffe joined Bone buds Tony, Rich, Blake, Steve and Chris for a Bachelor Party weekend in Beckenridge Colorado. Blake brought the R/C helo entertainment, Rich brought the crazy chick(s) stories entertainment, Chris brought the live entertainment, Tony took care of the car bombs, Steve ensured all were loaded with ones, and the AAS boys brought the extreme downhill skills.


The result was a highly successful weekend with plenty of danger involved -- heavy drinking, extreme skiing, skiing while severely hung over, skiing while hung over is freezing and windy fuckin weather... And then there was Jessica and Lisa. Ah yes - those girls sure do know how to make a waning bachelor rethink his life. No pictures but we all know -- yes, we all know.

Bon Voyage Brian, Bone voyage.

High Speed Quads? We got those.

Well, after a disappointing early-season effort at Wolf Creek back in December akin to a junior-prom date gone bad, the AAS put together a stellar comeback performance at none other than the steepest patrolled ski area in the lower 48, Silverton Mountain over its first weekend of the season offering guided trips. Together we made up fully ten percent of the total number of guests on the mountain last Saturday.

The weekend started for Paul, Dan, Matt, Eric, Jeff, and Kirk on Friday with a warm-up at Wolf Creek and a few turns down Horseshoe Bowl in practically untouched 10-day old powder. Yours Truly had a day shift at the salt mine, but when the whistle blew it was balls to the wall with my buddy Sean for the six-hour drive to Silverton and the first night at the "rustic" Triangle Motel. Some quick introductions for Sean, and everybody hit the rack in anticipation of the unknown that awaited us the next day. Dreams of sparkling pow, alluring snow nymphs, and miles upon miles of fresh turns danced in our heads, with the occasional oh-my-God-I'm-falling-into-the-abyss nightmare lurking in the shadows.

Saturday dawned early as SherPaul bounced from his evening's rest and set to work cooking madly, a veritable one-man beehive of activity. The other members awoke with varying degrees of sluggishness, bum-scratching, and flatulence, milling about collecting gear, eating hastily-assembled breakfast burritos, and dressing for the day. Our pace picked up as departure time neared...we had guaranteed reservations, but the rest of the Triangle Motel apparently was on a mission to get to the mountain and on the waitlist for any remaining at-large slots. There was shouting, boot stomping, doors opening and closing, and engines lugubriously cranking in the negative-20 degree air.

Soon enough we were on our way, one car at a time. A few minutes out of town up a county road brought us to the only chair, an antique obtained from Mammoth Mountain in California. Next to it was a large canvas tent...the combination check-in counter, rental counter, swag shop, and apres-ski bar. A few customary waivers that no one read, and an announcement was made to assemble in groups of eight at the entrance to the lift line.

We drew Jeremy, a wiry, bewhiskered young fellow as our guide. He quickly assessed our competence, made us prove our mandatory avalanche beacons worked, and gave us a quick run-down of all the ways we could die at Silverton Mountain. Undeterred, we paired up and waited our turn in the longest lift line this mountain would see that day. A few short minutes later and we were hoisted above the deep valley shadows into the sun at the top of a saddle overlooking the quintessential San Juan winter view...another deep, sharp valley hemmed by a sheer-walled cirque to our right and twisting out of view to our left beneath jagged peaks softened by well over seven feet of smooth powder, interrupted only by small blast craters and the occasional avalanche track. Thunder rippled off the peaks and couloirs across the valley as more controlled detonations from ski patrol worked to break up dangerous snow conditions out of sight.

All together, we headed off on a short hike up a rise on the left shoulder of the saddle to a nice bowl above a long, wide chute, over 2,100 feet of vertical drop at a fairly constant 38 degree slope. Some more instructions from Jeremy, and we were off one at a time.

A few wind-blown tracks on top, but otherwise soft turns through week-old consolidated powder...not "champagne" powder, but good nonetheless -- anything fluffier would have probably required SCUBA gear and a personal airbag to live through. About twenty more turns through a chute at the bottom and we were down. A quick hike to a catwalk a coast down to the road, and we boarded the "Powder Coyote" -- a hoopty bread van -- for the ride back to the Promised Land to work for more turns.

The second run took us just to skier's left of the saddle into the same backside valley, this time with the hopes of poaching a little powder stash next to a slide slope just before the runout. Seven of the eight made it there...Sean decided to imitate the Silverton logo and slide headfirst past the point of no return, earning him a long wait at the bottom of a chowdery chute as the seven AAS members made turns in knee-deep powder on a 40-degree slope for the remaining 400 feet of the 1,700-foot run. Back to the Powder Coyote. Matt, unfortunately, was utterly blown from working hard for his turns and decided to sit out a run at the bottom.

Nearing lunch time, we decided to hike to the top of our next run, then break for lunch. This hike took us from the top of the lift line on our high-speed quadriceps up about 500 feet to a small flat spot where we enjoyed a calm, comfortable lunch perched high above the valley at about 12,600 feet.

We suited back up and made one small push around a pinnacle, and there it was...the most amazing 10-foot thick cornice hanging over a mandatory 20-foot drop into a chute of the most dizzying steepness...above the most tantalizing expanse of untouched snow. Good thing there was a cut into the cornice a little farther down. The drawback? Jeremy informed us, "under no circumstances should you go straight in. You need to make two quick turns, and it's all gravy. Totally reasonable."

Yes, totally reasonable. Paul, practically bouncing up and down in anticipation, was straining to be the first one in. I was resigned to give it a shot...the first turn would have been heel-side for me, sort of blind, but I figured I could whip it around and plow a bit in the hard snow at the top if I needed to before turn number two beneath the behemoth looming over the edge above, then I would be home-free.

Just a moment's hesitation from Dan...then a squeak from Kirk, and it was all over. Jeremy herded us back down to the lunch spot for a more sensible entry. The disappointment was practically dripping from Paul, slightly less so from me, but we were good sports about it and ended up with a quite splended set of turns in the best snow that day. Unfortunately, an injury in another party nearby requiring Jeremy's assistance meant we weren't getting another shot at the chute...but we would get one more run.

The final run of the day, and Jeremy turned us loose on the front side at the top of another beautiful chute. The snow was a little harder once we dropped in, but it was fun anyway, carving up and down the steep sides of the pipe. The fatigue was evident in everyone but our guide, of course...even for Matt who had been checking his watch for the better part of two hours since we left him at the bottom of the lift. A quick ride in the Coyote and we were back at our cars, dumped our gear, and clomped up the steps cut into the snow for some brewskis and camraderie in the tent. A couple beers turned into several, the party moved to the snowy, wild-west streets of Silverton, and a few blurry hours later the AAS was snoring away drunkenly in our well-appointed accomodations at the Bent Elbow Inn, with local beta on some backcountry routes on top of Red Mountain Pass churning away in our brains.

After a leisurely, slightly hung-over but delicious breakfast accompanied by disgusting coffee and flat, watery OJ, Dan, Paul, Kirk, Sean, and I were the only remaining hard-chargers determined to get a couple powder turns in before the AAS parted for the weekend. Twisting our way to the top of the pass, we gawked at miles and miles of neck-straining terrain shooting skyward from the flat valley floors. At the top of the pass we were greeted by sparkling, pillowy lines rising at safe angles to our left, and a few minutes later we were skinning our way up. One fun, fresh run deserved another, especially after a comical biff from Paul trying to launch a small rock drop onto a steep slope. Unfortunately, the group split trying to find a better run, and neither ended up with anything worth discussing, so we called it a day., and brought to an end a superb 2008 AAS Wolf Cr...er, Silverton Summit.

We'll be back...oh, yes...we'll be back.

Let it be so recorded, this twenty-ninth day of January, in the two thousand and eighth year of the Common Era.

Happy Holidays

Happy Holidays from your local AAS:


Check this out!

Plan E

Wolf Creek DisAASter '07
"I need some pain and suffering. Life's just been too [good] lately." - Eric, November 8, 2007

The plan was grand from the start, as all AAS weekend plans are, yet we kept it simple. After approximately 63 emails shortly following a brief discussion at the Taos Mountain Film Festival, it was finally decided that the AAS would kick off the ’07-’08 winter season with an ascent of one or both of the Spanish Peaks, two towering granite stocks soaring over 6,000 feet above the plains in south-central Colorado on the fringe of the Sangre de Cristos. Conditions permitting, we planned to arrive at the Wahatoya trailhead south of La Veta late on Friday, hike/snowshoe/skin to the 10,300ft saddle between the mountains, probably in the dark, and climb 13,625ft West Spanish Peak on Saturday, followed either with some powder turns or an ascent of 12,683ft East Spanish Peak and the hike/snowshoe/downhill glissé back to the cars on Sunday.

That was Plan A.

Plan B was a more traditional ski trip to either Wolf Creek or Crested Butte should winter conditions preclude a safe ascent of the Spanish Peaks. Simple. A win-win weekend, really.

In hindsight, we knew there was really nothing wrong with Plan A. The weather didn’t look that bad for the Spanish Peaks…but there was just so much powder to be had at Wolf Creek. Epic powder. Seven feet of pillowy cold smoke that really belonged in Alaska, especially considering it was the second week of December, and just two weeks prior there had been nary enough to gather a snowball between Wolf Creek and Winter Park. Seven Feet of free Warren Miller Pow jetting in a great white snowgasm from beneath our feet as we carved up to our chests on the Powerline, or perhaps with a nominal fee, beneath Alberta Peak. You see where I’m going with this. Plan B it was.

…Except Plan B wasn’t really good enough. You see, Eric really needed some pain and suffering. Nobody really likes winter camping. Even fewer like winter camping in a 4-person, freestanding 3-season tent in blizzard accumulations measuring around two inches per hour. So, Plan B was enhanced to include a snowshoe/skin in from the traditional Powerline parking area near Wolf Creek Pass and establishing ABC near the top of the Powerline run. After all, powder turns in SEVEN FEET of heaven might be free, but should never come cheap.

We should have known when a) I managed to be almost two hours late meeting Paul and Eric prior to departure due to a funeral service, b) under withering verbal abuse from Paul (albeit in ignorance at the cause of my lateness), I managed to leave my snowboard boots in my back seat and neglect to bring my bivy to cover my non-waterproof down sleeping bag in the transfer of equipment to Paul’s rented seXTerra, c) Dan and Kirk reported that the Powerline parking lot wasn’t just snowy, it was in fact under that same Seven Feet of Creamy Pow-tang. But of course, we pressed on. There was always Plan C.

Plan C was in essence a modified Plan B. After all, no plan survives its first contact with the enemy. There are fog and friction, and these necessitate changes to the plan. So, Dan and Kirk scoured tiny South Fork, Colorado for a hotel room that looked nice, wasn’t the cheapest in town, and had the worst-smelling sulfur-infused tap water they could find. They were successful in their quest, and obtained a room at the Lonesome Dove Inn. Eric, Paul, and I joined them just shy of 10pm after a stop in Alamosa for some delicious Kentucky Previously Fried And Then Microwaved Chicken. There were leftovers.

Saturday dawned a slushy gray muck in South Fork, promising better things for the pass a few miles up the road. I of course needed to acquire some snowboard boots…so it was off to the ski area to see what I could come up with. I was on track for a rental pair when I let slip that we were hiking the Powerline all day as well as camping up there, and the guy behind the counter promptly withdrew the boots behind the counter and pointed me to the ski shop across the sidewalk. After re-engaging the mental train on its tracks, I trudged over to see what they had. $200.44 and fifteen minutes later I had a new pair of Burtons on my feet and was back in Paul’s rental on the way to the parking lot on top of Wolf Creek Pass. A quick Rochambeau earned Kirk the privilege of parking his gently-used FJ Cruiser at the Powerline outlet three miles down 160 from Wolf Creek Pass for the shuttle back. Under snowy skies, Dan, Paul, and I shouldered our packs and broke trail while Eric and Kirk staged the cars. An avalanche blocking 160 to the west was keeping the hordes away, so we were in no hurry.

Arriving at a good spot near the top of the Powerline access road, the three of us began the tasks of setting up winter camp. Tamping down the snow, setting up tents – one a Rainier-worthy North Face for Kirk and Dan, and one 4-person, freestanding 3-season tent for Eric, Paul and I. About an hour later, Eric and Kirk arrived and shortly we were ready for our first Powerline lap. At the drop-in, as the others stripped skins and locked down heels in preparation, I knelt in the snow, steaming at a misfortunate binding failure…a critical screw came loose on the hike up and was lost forever. Ever the cool one, Paul advised some MacGuyvering and in a few minutes I was back in business.

Executing Plan C was to this point almost as good as we imagined it to be. This was, however, Plan C’s first contact with the enemy. The fluff was indeed criminally-untouched, flawless, grade-A ski dope. Words don’t do it justice. Dan led us to a section we hadn’t hit in previous trips looking for a nice open glade with a steep pitch – just what the doctor ordered. We missed it, but only just – traversing below it, we vowed to hit it on the next lap.

Plan C was working great! We popped out onto Hwy 160, greeted some salt-o-the-earth electric company line engineers looking for the source of an outage on the circuit, glanced up and down the road, and saw no silver FJ Cruiser. Eric assured us it was just around the corner because the road was a little wider up there. Hanging our thumbs out was getting us no love, so Eric approached the electric co guys and bummed a ride. They were happy to oblige after we had informed them of the location of some downed poles we saw on our run, and Eric was off….

...Only to return about 15 minutes later, still in the passenger seat of the work truck and sans FJ. Hm. Maybe he parked it farther down the road? The electric co guy said he’d drive down the road to the next tunnel, and if he didn’t come back in 15 more minutes, assume the car isn’t there. He returned 15 minutes later, but gave us the thumbs down. Now fearing the obvious…Eric bummed another ride back to the pass to retrieve the seXTerra and info on where cars get towed to from all the way up there. It was having problems starting anyway, I guess. Turns out the State Trooper who had it towed was up at the pass directing snow removal efforts and gave Eric the info. We bungeed our gear to the top, piled in, and headed down the road to get a cell phone signal and call the tow company.

Turns out it was towed thirty miles down the road to Monte Vista, and apparently not long after Eric had parked it…the bill turned out to be a whopping $381. Scraping together what we had and emptying an ATM for the rest, we split the bill and commenced discussing courses of action (COAs) for Plan D.

Plan D consisted of two COAs. One, we go back to South Fork, eat a non-freeze-dried meal cooked by a professional, then proceed back up to the pass (conditions permitting), and hike back in to camp. A sub-plan of this was break camp and return to the Lonesome Dove (or perhaps cheaper accommodations with more palatable water). The second COA was to return to South Fork, eat a non-freeze-dried meal cooked by a professional, then obtain comfortable, heated accommodations (preferably with palatable water) and hike in Sunday morning to break camp and do a final lap on the Powerline before heading home. After some discussion, it was decided that the benefits of a humorous, self-deprecating blog entry (except for Dan – he only deprecates on porcelain, or something) outweighed the pain and suffering that would be endured by returning to camp. Plan D was set.

We checked into Mike and Rita’s (now actually known as A-Different-Mike and Somebody-Else’s) and proceeded to dry our gear by an anemic gas wall heater. Kirk produced a six pack of AAS-approved beer, and we sat down to cheer on Different-Mike as he attempted to knock ice off the DirecTV dish with which we needed to watch Ninja Challenge.

Sunday dawned the day we wished we’d had on Saturday. A cold bluebird morning atop Wolf Creek Pass, and the traffic was already rolling into the parking lot at the area at 7:45am. The powder sparkled, and tiny flakes lifted from the surface by a breath of a breeze hung suspended like in a snow globe. Plan D was shaping up nicely. Another MacGuyver fix to my binding, and we were ready to hike in and break camp. But Plan D was, like Plans B and C, doomed. Eric snapped his binding just as he set off, and it was irreparable. The rest of us headed off, bummed that we’d have to leave one of our own behind at the cars. The camp was something of a surprise when we arrived. Paul’s Family Values tent had buckled under the blizzard and was half-erect under a smooth, foot-deep blanket of snow, which had managed to collect on it despite being hidden under several towering spruces that had provided some protection. Kirk’s North Face was also covered, but taut as when we’d left it. Thirty minutes later, we shouldered our packs again and set off back down the approach to the cars. We passed skiers headed up, clearly eyeing our large packs. “Stay warm?” one guy asked. “Yep! Sure did,” was my reply. Returning to the cars, Paul and I revealed our intent to scrap Powerline Run #2 in favor of Plan E, a tactical retreat in light of the Jurassic-Park-style cascading events of the weekend and in solidarity with Eric. Dan and Kirk intended to attempt to regain some value in the weekend by enjoying a few lift-assisted runs at the ski area, but were ultimately thwarted by two full parking lots (it was after 10am, after all) and dwindling desire. Dan and Kirk implemented Plan E as well, and the weekend drew to a close as we headed back home.

Here's the Vid El Presidente put together!

New AAS Induction

Welcome our newest AAS....Kirk. We still need to divine an office for Kirk to hold. Some suggestions I have heard to date include Executive Chauffeur or Secretary of Transportation.

AAS Does Crestone Needle & Humbolt Peak!

When the tough want to take it easy, they climb a 14'er. When your AAS wants to kick it, they drive one of the worst (allegedly) 4X4 roads in Colorado, climb two 14'ers, and catch and cook their own food over fire coaxed from soaking wet wood while engaging in mildly self-destructive behavior as others whimper in the shadows, begging for scraps.

Yes, your very own AAS proved that once again, it is and forever will be the most powerful of all squads dedicated to endeavors of a certain magnitude, by which I mean those things not so difficult that one can't enjoy high-class fermented beverages, rare (legal or otherwise decriminalized) tobacco products, and various other small distractions in a relaxed post-endeavor atmosphere. And then do it all again the next day.

On Friday the 27th of July, your AAS decided to head north for a bit of Colorado flavor, settling into AAS-vanced Base Camp (ABC) in the Crestone Group of 14'ers. I had the honor of being the advance team, making an admirable (if I do say so) charge at the South Colony 4X4 road on Friday, making it about half way up before parking my Subie lest it become a permanent fixture of the landscape. 1,700 vertical feet and about 3.5 miles later, I established ABC in a prime spot at the outlet of Lower South Colony Lake at about 11,600 feet, with Crestone Needle and Humboldt Peak towering overhead on either side, and went off for a bit of relaxing fly-casting for what may be Colorado's native Cutthroat Trout. About a half-hour of that went by before Eric, Dan, Paul, and Kirk arrived fresh from some quality truck rodeo on the back of Kirk's spankin'-new stock FJ Cruiser, which apparently had little difficulty in making it to the end of the road, in respectable company with rock-crawlers, lifted jeeps, and other such Earth-stomping beasts. Not being ones to waste any time, we immediately engaged in a half-AAS'd round of Hackey whilst alternately Paul and Eric fiddled with Paul's pipe in a vain attempt to make it smoke. In a fit of frustration, Paul called on his AAS-honed ingenuity to fashion a pipe from some deliciously zucchini bread-encrusted aluminum foil (thanks, Courtney! And Eric, of course, for sharing).

On Saturday morning we were on the trail a little after six, behind several other groups of hikers, moving fast. We achieved Broken Hand Pass at about 12,800 feet in short order, and by 8am we were well past 13,000 feet on the southwest side of the Needle. Some careful scrambling, expert route finding, and superior conditioning propelled us past several other hikers, and we achieved the summit of 14,197ft Crestone Needle with little difficulty under threatening skies and drizzle. Paul achieved new heights, literally, as this was his first 14'er. A somewhat slippery descent had us back to ABC at 11:15, just five short hours after starting, surprising even we elite AAS members. (Side note: Did anyone notice that we passed the infamous Aaron Ralston on our descent? My buddy Sean and his hiking partner stopped and chatted with him after leaving Broken Hand Pass on the descent a few minutes after we did). Eric was drooling over the possibility of catching dinner from a small pond below Lower South Colony Lake, so with an afternoon to pass, we headed down to try our -- officially, my -- hand at the Champagne of Fishing, or the Cadillac of Fishing, or whatever the nickname for fly-fishing is. Three fish landed before our luck ran out at the pool, so we headed up to the lower lake and continued our pursuits there, but after a minor controversy over the adequacy of certain AAS members' knot-tying skills that may or may not have resulted in the loss of what was probably a forty-pound, three-foot Cutthroat trout (if my estimates are correct), we ultimately decided three moderately-sized Trout would be a fine addition to (rather than replacement for) our customary freeze-dried fare.

On-and-off drizzle and glowering clouds told us we were probably going to be in for a soaking...and sure enough, just before dinner we were chased into our tents by the rain. Undaunted, we enjoyed premium tobacco products, our dinners sans trout, and a fine red table wine from the makers of Clif Bar (a blend appropriately called "Climber" -- highly recommended, though they need to get the bottle weight down if it's going to become one of our Ten Essentials).

Around sunset the rain let up and our attentions turned next to cooking our hard-won trout, which had been seasoning in fresh mountain stream runoff for several hours. Paul used a secret AAS technique to produce fire from soaked wood, and soon a roaring fire was the envy of all lesser groups camped in the area. The trout was, of course, delish.

Sunday dawned clear, with stunning alpenglow on Crestone Needle followed by a brilliant sunrise. After some discussion, it was decided that Humboldt Peak was indeed worthy of a morning AAS-sault, Bravado in ample supply as we were at least an hour late getting on the trail despite gray clouds quickly building. Dan, displaying superior hubris and clear disdain for the conditions, threw aside early bonking and summited triumphantly with the rest of your AAS -- let it never be said that a piece of AAS is better than the whole. Er, that is to say, an AAS parted is...well, we stuck together, and that's the main point I'm trying to get across here.

A few hours later found us back at camp and packing up wet gear for the short 1.5 mile hike back to the AAS-mobile, followed by some brief truck rodeo on the way down and a customary apres-hike grease-bomb-n-beer AAS luncheon in Westcliffe prior to adjournment.

Here's the video Paul put together:

Welcome Our Newest Member: Major Bone

We the, AAS Executives, hereby decree Major Brian Bone a member in good standing of the Albuquerque Adventure Squad. He has shown valor, team commitment, and inexplicable bravado on AAS events (he also brought a good bottle of wine on the last trip). The initiation ceremony is yet to be decided (see law 22) and will be administered at the next event in which the Major Bone is in attendance.

Lake Fork Peak

Hey Folks !


We did it, last weekend Dan, Paul & Eric headed up to Taos for a little ski mountaineering! We hit the trailhead around lunch Friday. After a nice 3 hour schlog we reached the northwest end of Wheeler Basin and made camp. The snow was plentifull and rock hard. Avalanche danger was pretty much non-existant but we spent the afternoon doing beacon practice and self-arrest drills just to get in the proper frame of mind ;-)


Saturday morning dawned clear and cold. We hit the bottom slopes. After about an hour we started the real climbing with skiis on packs and kick-stepping up the couliors. It stayed cold and semi-cloudy so the Avy danger remained nill. After dropping our skiis on the shoulder we made the summit proper, 12,881 feet! Sweeeeet. We all skiied the steeps through the no-fall zones and had a blast. After a nice lunch we hit more slopes nearer to base camp.


The snow moved in and we retired to the tent. We underestimated our fuel consumption so Paul stepped up, made a fire and cooked dinner for all in the snow under a big overhang. Eric set a new record for staying in the tent with an impressive 18 hour stretch! We woke the next morning to 4 to 6 inches of fresh power for the ski out to the Taos Diner!


Here's a little clip Eric the viking put together:

Another AAS Production!

Keystone CO. - UnOfficial Event!

Just got back from a few days of AWSOME skiing at Kerstone resort in Colorado. We went up with the entire family for the week but of course Paul found time to hike above the area and hit Bergmans Bowl! Here's a shot above treeline taken by a snow-boarder I asked to shoot some video (as I passed them on the climb, and they were young anough to be my sons ;-) Old dudes ROCK again!





I made the 700 ft. climb in about 45 minutes. I wasn't sure where I wanted to ski down, even after checking in with the ski patrol about where it would be safe without a partner. I was called back from a ridge by the snow-cat driver who was worried I was going off on my own over a cliff ;-) Silly snow-cat dude, he didn't know that AAS members never ski dangerous stuff without a partner and proper equipment! Here's my summit clip:





I skiied a perfect bowl down into the woods on some of the best snow of the year according to the ski patrol dudes I spoke to. Here's a final shot of me in the woods, It was soooooo awsome I really wished I had company ;-)





All in all I am VERY impressed with Keystone resort. Great loooong family ski runs and awsome extreme skiing for Papa......... WE'LL BE BACK !

Sweet Mexican Water

Not AAS sanctioned, but an adventure non the less.

http://www.advrider.com/forums/showthread.php?t=217619

J

Fools & Gold in Taos !

Hey AAS Fans,

Last weekend Eric and Paul hit Taos for a little BC action and winter camping. We were destined for Wheeler Basin at the foot of the states highest mountain, Wheeler Peak. However as we geared up at Dan's house the on-off switch on Dan's beacon BROKE! Rendering Eric beacon-less... Soooooooo, being the responsible mountain explorers we are (another AAS requirement) we changed plans and decided to head up to Bull of the Woods meadow and climb Gold Hill.


We hit the trail in Taos at about 10:30 PM in a snowstorm ;-) We climbed for about an hour and a half and made camp in a smaller meadow just short of Bull of the Woods. Here's home sweeeeet home.





Paul was a bit sick for the big day, so after lots of high-octane tea and asprin we made breakfeast of now mandatory AAS pre-cooked bacon and other treats, we hit the climb. Here's Eric trying to figure out how to eat bacon with mittens on.





During the climb up past Bull O' the Woods, Paul met a woman snow shoe'er and said she and her 40+ year old girlfriends were in a yert just up the trail and to stop by later for tea, we gladly accepted.


Here's Eric on the climb:



As we approached the summit we came across a fantastic cornice. Here's Paul on the way down it:





We bagged the peak in the company of some Rockey Mt. Sheep and high winds:





On the way down we had hard and variable snow that wasn't the best stuff to ski in, so we hiked through the steepest parts of the woods and made it back to the yert for tea after a 6 or 7 hour schlog! After about 10 hours recovering in the tent, we were ready to pack-out for home.





All in all a great little weekend adveture. Next up........ an AAS assult of Lake Fork Peak ! Here' the AAS reconnaissance photo with a possible route selection in red:

Another AAS Production...... NEXT !

Check out Eric's trip report here..

Fool's Gold