What am I?

OK, I've been thinking about this "backcountry" term and how painful it is becoming. I remember back when I first decided to dedicate my life to skiing, in the early nineties, the word du jour was "extreme." For a few years you could say extreme and skier in the same sentence and still have some dignity. Eventually the word devolved into a marketing term that could only really be used to describe caffeinated beverages. I fear a similar fate for backcountry if something isn't done soon. As a lover of the language, it saddens me to see such a useful word become useless. The problem is that the term backcountry is very concise and efficient and I can't think of a word to use in its stead. Maybe wildslide is the answer. I could consider myself a wildslider I guess. Anyway I got to this point because in my last post I described myself as a backcountry skier and ever since I have been cringing. I know that backcountry really means more than what it is typically used for these days. I'm rationalizing it in my own defense because I have at certain times actually skied in the backcountry. But what I do on a daily basis, here in VT, cannot accurately be described as backcountry skiing. Or extreme skiing for that matter. No, perhaps unconventional skiing would be better. Given that most people think of skiing as an activity that takes place at a specific ski area, serviced by ski lifts, eschewing these things would be considered unconventional, would it not? Or how about traditional skiing. In the early days of skiing as a sport (not as mode of transportation) the practitioners must surely have skied much as I choose to ski now, away from the crowds and accouterments of modern ski areas. You can say earning your turns, which has a nice ring to it but is somewhat cumbersome. You could describe yourself as a turnearner maybe. There are other popular terms floating around these days such as sidecountry and slackcountry both of which are used to denote skiing that is done from a ski resort but outside of the resort boundary. I do this a lot but I've not heard of anyone claiming to be primarily a sidecountry skier and until I do I will not claim to be one either. I suppose there is a certain romance in being a backcountry skier and I am certainly the type to fall for that sort of nonsense. But to truly be a backcountry skier I think requires actually getting into the backcountry, and I take that to mean wild places without motorized or mechanized access. Not the easiest thing to do here in populous New England, but certainly possible. what is a backcountry skier to do when the very sound of the word he most identifies with sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard? Perhaps the thing to do is go skiing.

Route 4 Couloir

A few weeks back Ben and I skied a line that we have since named "the route 4 couloir." It had all the makings of a mediocre run; south exposure, low elevation, too easy approach. But it was an aesthetic looking line that I had been eyeing for a few years. My summer job as a carpenter had placed me across the street from the line frequently and I would often look at it while I was eating my lunch. A lack of anything better to ski finally caused me to get around to it, and Ben was easy to convince

We did a little reconnaissance by driving up to the end of a road that services an adjacent housing development. We decided that the best access would be from Route 4, essentially ascending the same way we planned to descend. I parked my car in a parking area that accesses a beaver pond and summer fishing spot. As we put our skins on we chatted about the best way to get to our proposed shot and I was surprised to look at the pond and notice a skin track skirting around in the direction that we needed to go. "I guess we could just follow that skin track," I said, silently cursing whoever beat us to our objective. Maybe it was just cross country skiers.

Once we got onto the track it was obvious that it was indeed a skin track. How could this obscure area, miles from a ski area, be tracked? Fortunately whomever had set the track had more common sense than we did and turned around early.

Getting to the top of thing proved to be harder than we thought. We skinned until the going got too steep and then we post holed for few hundred more vertical feet. We ended up in a hand over hand struggle to break out on the summit. At least it was steep. In fact it was so steep that it wasn't holding any snow. We had to take turns skiing first because the second person was reduced to skiing on leaves and moss and rocks. The descent ended up being utterly forgettable with the exception of some antics by Ben like jumping off of a waterfall and falling off of a giant downed tree that he had climbed up on to try and get a view. But that's the thing about earning your turns around here. I'll remember that day for a long time because it was an adventure with good company and a worthy objective. We got some exercise and had an authentic experience that you just can't have riding the wire at a ski resort. And that's why I call myself a backcountry skier, even though the term is over used these days. Even though I live in Vermont where there is no backcountry. Or is there?

Eat More Fiber

I've been an outspoken proponent of dietary fiber for years and people keep asking why. Very simply, I've never heard any member of the medical or dietary community say anything negative about fiber. Think about it, have you ever heard anyone say "make sure you don't over do the fiber." Every other nutritional component that I can think of has been alternately idolized and demonized by the medical community, the press, or some best selling diet book. Does fat makes you fat or help you lose weight? Does protein make you lean or destroy your kidneys? Should I eat carbs and live forever or will carbs cause me to die of a fat ass? Should I megadose vitamin C or should I just flush dollar bills down the toilet? What the hell should I eat? That's simple too. Eat everything, but make sure you get enough fiber. I just had a giant serving of burlap for breakfast and I've never felt better.