Hardwear Sessions

By Patricia Deavoll, Expedition Sponsorship Recipient

It's a typical late summer's afternoon in the hills above Christchurch ( that's the South Island of New Zealand) - the sky is blue, a brisk nor' easterly whisks in off the sea, the waves and distant mountains sparkle. I'm doing my typical later summer afternoon thing- cragging with friends at one of the dozens of sport climbing locations above the city.

I've just led the warm up climb (a short overhanging test-piece with good holds). I'm chatting with my belayer Nick as I thread the ring anchor for a lower-off. Eric is a few meters away on another climb belayed by Tony. Dave is somewhere round the bottom and there are other climbing pairs dotted up and down the crag. Someone is drinking from a thermos of coffee- I can smell it. People in white are playing cricket on the playing field below- their calls carry on the wind. This is groundhog afternoon- we've all been here before hundreds and hundreds of times.

"OK take me!" I call to Nick and lean back for the rope to take my weight. I hold it at my waist. It runs quickly- too quickly- through my hands! I'm falling and I hit the ground with a ker-thump! And lie there stunned... Then I realise "God! Ow! My back hurts."

Somewhere above me I hear voices saying "F*k! Oh f*k!" Then Eric says stay still, don't move. I open my eyes and see my left hand lying six inches away, the skin on the inside of the fingers completely rope-shredded. Eric asks me to move my hands and feet and head and I find I can. I think desperately "Please don't get a helicopter," and ask Eric to wrap something round my hand (it's Tony's tee-shirt) so I don't have to look at it. I stand up slowly. My back is excruciating but I grit it out because I really REALLY don't want that helicopter. I can see the others rolling their eyes at each other and breathing sighs of relief as I maintain the vertical and start to totter towards the road...

Dawn's Rock Climbing Paradise - Greek island of Kalymnos
(Look for more updates from Dawn Glanc)

By Mountain Hardwear Climber, Dawn Glanc

The Island of Kalymnos is known for amazing limestone climbing. There are multiple walls to choose from. Long slabs, slightly overhanging walls and deep caves are abundant. What intrigues most climbers are the tufas. A Tufa is like a stalactite; which is formed from the calcite and silica deposits that drip from the rock. The Tufas come in all shapes and sizes. Some are small rounded blobs, what climbers may call chicken heads. Other Tufas resemble flowstone. My favorite type of Tufa is the long icicle looking formations that hang from the rock faces and drip down from the caves. Typically the tufas are awesome positive holds, what we refer to as jugs.

Some amazing limestone climbing | Photo by James Q Martin

The Tufa climbing requires a climber to think outside the box. The climbing is three-dimensional and requires the climber not only to look up, but also all around. A giant Tufa may be hanging just behind and out of your peripheral view, providing a stem move to relieve the over hanging nature of the climb. My favorite is the Tufa hug, which allows a no hands rest as you sit, straddle or hug the formation. These crazy no hands rests allow the 35-meter overhanging cave routes to be possible. This may be the wildest rock climbing that I have ever encountered. It makes me feel like a kid on a jungle gym, and I love it.

Challenging three-dimensional climbing | Photo by James Q Martin

Dawn's Tufa hug | Photo by James Q Martin

By Mountain Hardwear Athlete, Erik Weihenmayer

In late August, my friends, Mike and Pat O'Donnell, and I arrived in Wyoming to climb the Grand Teton. The Tetons are an icon of the Rockies, rising up abruptly from the Wyoming grassland and piercing the sky with sharp granite teeth. At 13,770 feet, the Grand Teton is one of the steepest and most technical peaks in the lower 48 states and has been on my list for many years. It is the place where many mountaineering legends learned their trade to challenge peaks around the world.

Erik approaches belay guides | Photo Courtesy of Erik Weihenmayer

Not long after we arrived in Jackson, WY, we encountered two friendly faces. On a ferry across Jenny Lake en route to a practice climb, we ran into longtime friends, Kelly and her husband Craig Perkins. To add to the irony, two weeks earlier, I ran into Kelly and Craig at the base of another rock face while training near San Jacinto peak in California. Kelly, a hero of mine, was the recipient of a heart transplant in 1995 after a severe virus destroyed her own heart. They have climbed all over the world, from the infamous face of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park in California (of course, the Heart Route) to the Matterhorn in Switzerland, championing the cause of organ and tissue donation. In 2001, Kelly stunned her doctors by climbing 19,340-foot Mt. Kilimanjaro, the Roof of Africa.

On this most recent trip, Kelly and Craig set out to complete the Grand Traverse, a classic route that reaches ten summits along the Teton Range. Kelly enlisted seven cardiac nurses from the Eastern Idaho Regional Medical Center to join her on a portion of the climb. The project, aptly named "Stand on the Grand for Organ and Tissue Donation, " taught the nurses about the excertional demands of climbing on the heart, and served as an inspiration for heart patients as well. Most importantly, the climb helped to promote Craig and Kelly's campaign for organ donations.The New York Times published an outstanding article on Kelly's climb, NYTimes.com

Pat Odonnell and Erik Weihenmayer Belay | Photo Courtesy of Erik Weihenmayer

After the chance meeting in Wyoming, our teams climbed accordion style to a spectacular finish on the Guide's Wall. We all rappelled down just in time to avoid being drenched by the usual afternoon thunderstorms. Then, our two teams parted ways as Mike, Pat and I prepared for our attempt of the Petzl Ridge on the Grand.

Erik Weihenmayer and Pat Odonnell ascending. | Photo Courtesy of Erik Weihenmayer

When we awoke the following day, five inches of snow had fallen on the Grand Teton, adding to a foot of snow which had fallen the previous week. We decided to push ahead to the Moraine bivy site in Garnet Canyon, the staging area for an assault on the upper flanks. The weather was chilly as we ascended the lower section of the mountain, crossing scree fields of frozen and slippery rock. As we reached the technical climbing on the Petzl Ridge, we encountered ferocious winds. We climbed with down jackets, fleece hats, and gloves, not at-all typical for August. Although the weather improved marginally with the sun beginning to peek from the clouds, the wind was still painfully cold but we pushed ahead on ice-covered rock. Pat remarked sarcastically that it was "great weather for rock shoes!" As we gained altitude, the elements became more challenging as we struggled up frozen rock with minimal gear. Spirits dampened some as a climber above us fell ten feet and landed on his back, narrowly avoiding a fatal accident, we simul-climbed the last 1,500 feet (a technique by which rope teams ascend together while placing rock protection between them). At 2:30 PM, our team of three reached the now snow-covered summit block. Accompanied by Mike and Pat, I became the first blind person to stand atop the Grand Teton. Sixteen hours after beginning, we fell into our sleeping bags exhausted, but satisfied from a marvelous adventure.

Kelly Perkins has recently released her book, The Climb of My Life, Scaling Mountains with a Borrowed Heart. View more information at: www.craigandkelly.com/ordercandkbook.htm

Summit of Grand Teton! | Photo Courtesy of Erik Weihenmayer

MHW Fan Becomes the First Turkish Woman to Summit Aconcagua
By Gulnur Tumbat, Assistant Professor at SFSU

Gulnur Tumbat at the top of Aconcagua | Photo Courtesy of Gulnur Tumbat

I am an academic and I love my job. One problem however is that during the Falls and Springs of every year, or in other words, during the climbing seasons in the Himalayas, I have to be at school teaching my undergrad and MBA students. There are always sabbaticals to go back to Himalayas, but only every 7 years. It can be challenging. That leaves winters and summers for my research and travels. It was one of those "I can't breath" moments when I started to plan my last winter. I needed to take a break from writing. The choice was easy: it was climbing season in South America. So, I contacted a few friends whom I like to hang out and who are good climbing partners. Job issues and other commitments was a problem so no one was going to be able to make it. After reading many legitimate climbing reports and after talking to my guide friends, I got a feeling that I may be able to climb Aconcagua solo. I put together my itinerary, went over my gear, upgraded some and I was ready. It may sound like a 10-minute preparation but it stretched out over months. Oh, I have been climbing for 15+ years, train outdoors pretty intense, and more importantly I consider myself having the right attitude and understanding of what it takes to climb big mountains. This is not a place for a climbing resume (well mine is way too short to mention on a website like this one anyway) and you don't know me as a person, so this is all I can tell you about my background if you are wondering who I am. I find myself lucky that I also get to combine what I love to do with my job, that is my climbing and my research on risk marketing and risk consumption. I use high-altitude climbing expeditions as my context - not just by reading about them but by being part of the actual experience (the best way of learning!). There is still not enough experience, not enough knowledge, and not enough skills, but one has to go out, climb, and play more to improve and learn more, right?

October 11, 2009
Expedition Complete.

Now in Kathmandu sorting, cleaning and repairing equipment before finding a flight back to Australia and the 'real world'.

Neil and I are still pretty tired and the stairs at the hotel are a challenge in themselves but its good to be eating real food and getting the odd hot shower.

Thankyou to all who've sent Neil and I congratulatory messages. I didn't realise there were so many following our progress and my apologies for not responding directly to everyone, yet. It means a lot though, so thanks.

I've received a few requests for specifics about the route we climbed -whether it was the '80s Austrian route or the '00s Inaki route. I think it might have been a combination of both. I think the Austrians traversed the north face above a large serac band whilst Inaki went below. We also went below. From there I'm not too sure which line the various parties took. We went to the left of the 3 fingers of rock that rise from around 7700 metres to 7800 metres, and from there went straight up to the summit ridge. Then along/up the ridge to the top. Those who care can fight over the 'name' of the route. We just enjoyed the climb.

Climbing Shisha was more than just reaching the top of an 8000er for me. It was the final peak in my quest to climb all fourteen of the 8000ers and it was also the first Austalian ascent of that mountain's true summit. So it was a lot of reward for a tough climb and the experience is all the richer for having worked hard for it. I think the bivy on the way down was Shisha's way of letting us know that we'd been 'allowed' the summit but shouldn't get too cocky about it.

Of course, whilst it was Neil and I doing the physical work on this climb, there was a lot of support in the background. Many thanks to Robin Boustead, Judy Smith and Jamie McGuiness for very valuable weather information, and the following organisations for high quality equipment and sponsorship, without which the climb would have been much more difficult and dangerous:
Mountain Hardwear
Gore-tex
Outdoor Life Group - Sydney
Trek and Travel - Sydney
Fisherman's Friend
Spelean (Sydney) & Petzl
Australian Geographic
Millet
World Expeditions

Sooooo, have I finished with 8000 metre climbing? No. I have at least one more climb I'd like to do next year in the pre-monsoon season. Details to be announced later. So stay tuned and thankyou all again for your support and good wishes.

Andrew

For full coverage on 2009 Shisha Pangma Everest Expedition visit: www.humanedgetech.com/expedition/lock/ or www.Andrew-Lock.com

September 28,2009
By Mountain Hardwear Athlete, Erik Weihenmayer

Standing guard over one of the world's most populated cities, the volcanoes overlooking Mexico City are shrouded in the mystery and allure of the legends of their ancient past. This November, Erik will lead a team of blind and sighted students on an expedition to these infamous peaks.

As the legend goes, the volcanoes of Iztaccíhuatl and Popocatépetl were created from the tragic love of the Aztec princess Iztaccíhuatl and the warrior Popocatépetl. These magnificent peaks were formed by Popo's fiery emotion and immortalized in Itza's womanly shape. From a distance, Itza forms the outline of a woman lying on her back. Although few have explored their broad talus and snow slopes up close, they have a beauty, a history and a palpable presence which transcend their stunning visual prominence. Combining an unlikely team of blind and sighted young adults from Mexico and the United States, it will be an extraordinary journey of leadership, discovery and adventure. For this expedition, Global Explorers has partnered their nationally recognized Leading the Way program with the Mexican nonprofit Ojos que Sienten. Their goal: to reach the higher limits of 17,159-foot Iztaccíhuatl and, in the process, to break down barriers and misperceptions about disabilities. This trip is made possible through the support of numerous sponsors, including Unilever. Thanks to the generosity of Fundación Televisa and Fundación Cinépolis, an eye operation will be donated for every participant who reaches the summit.

Students Alysha Jeans and Andrew Johnson check out the ruins of Machu Picchu on Erik's 2006 trip with Global Explorers to the Super Inca Trail. | Photo Courtesy of Erik Weihenmayer

By Patricia Bamert, Office of Ueli Steck

Makalu | Photo Courtesy of Ueli Steck

Yesterday, Thursday September 24, 2009, Ueli Steck summited 8463 meter high Makalu over the normal route. The Makalu is the fifth highest mountain in the world. It lies easterly of Mount Everest at the border between Nepal and China.

Together with Robert Bösch he started on September 24 at 3 o'clock in the morning from camp 3 at 7350 meters. A lot of snow was lying. Robert Bösch returned at an altitude of approximately 7900 meters.

At about 3 o'clock in the afternoon of the same day Ueli Steck reached the summit. He descended the same day to camp 3 at 7350 meters.

Today, September 25, 2009 they were back at base camp of Makalu.

Royce Hughes | Photo Courtesy of YES

Click here to watch the 10th Annicersary Video.

Contact YES:
2811 Macdonald Ave.
Richmond, CA 94804
(510) 232-3032
info@yesfamilies.org
Join the mailing list here.

Mountain Hardwear Gives Back to YES
Thanks to daily website visits and clicks, supporters helped raise $3,500 through Mountain Hardwear's Gives Back Program this past spring. Along with contributions from other foundations and donors, YES sent 270 low-income youth to summer camp in 2009. Click here to read more about how YES and Mountain Hardwear are partnering to make a difference in the community.

By Sean McDevitt Mountain Hardwear Design

Sean McDevitt lined up amongst the top riders at start of the Tahoe Sierra 100 | Photo by Annie Larkin

Bike racing is my vehicle for self exploration. In the spirit of this, I lined up at the start line of the Tahoe Sierra 100. 7 a.m. at Ice Lakes Lodge in Soda Springs, CA, I was queued up behind Tinker Juarez and regional pro strong men Dez Wilder and Kevin Smallman. Amidst whistle blows, camera flashes and much clapping, about 200 of us hurtled down the rocky and technical Soda Springs fire-road. While riding in the top 30 going into the descent, I wound my way through the pack as I warmed up to my Cannondale Scalpel. About 2 miles into a ripping descent, I flatted, pulled off and quickly fixed the flat as countless racers whizzed past me on a loamy switch back. Back on my bike I quickly spun my way through the red platted 50 milers until I flatted again and my heart sank. I hailed down a 50 miler to borrow a pump. I quickly patched a tube, pumped it up but it wouldn't hold. Thankfully, I told the racer to go on. I realized my day was done and sadly started walking back up the hill to the start and finish. This was not the day I hoped for. After a few minutes I ran into Sean Allan, running sweep on his Cannondale Rizer bike. He had tubes, CO2 and a pump. My day was saved. Even though I was an hour behind everyone, I was determined to have at least a bit of fun. After pumping my rear tire up to 50 psi I rode off.

My game was on, doing 2 wheel drifts through every corner. After maybe 20 minutes of ripping through the Sierras my rear tire washed out in left hander. Back up in seconds I pedaled furiously, determined to do something. Eventually, I found riders and passed them on a good grunt of a climb and then descended into sweet single-track of Red Star Ridge. I got a little full of myself on the descent until my front wheel ego check about ½ way down. I counted at least 3 times I said out loud "Jesus Christ Jim" as I slid past downed tree stumps at high speed.

Soon I shot onto a paved road and then to a gruesome fire-road climb but was rewarded with amazing swoopy water-barred single track of the Western States Trail. I was surprised how much technical single track there was. It was super fast, super fun but technical enough that you felt things could go terribly wrong if you weren't on your game. It is an interesting head game when you are 50ish miles out, you've flatted 3 times, wrecked twice, killed one squirrel and you know you are only half way through your day. The remainder of the ride was a blur of technical single-track, endless fire-road climbing, great views, aid stations filled with cool people, and great food. Although I finished well behind of what I wanted, I had a great day and wouldn't take it back for anything.

Tinker Juarez crushing it! | Photo by Annie Larkin

Dez Wilder comes in 7th. | Photo by Annie Larkin

Sean McDevitt survives the day. | Photo by Annie Larkin

Photo Courtesy of Scott Harrison

Carlos Toste, a member of the Mountain Hardwear Warranty family, is in Tibet for two weeks to help rebuild an elementary school. As you can see, the kids can't wait for Carlos! They are all very excited about their new school.

Pat Deavoll writes, from her perspective, an account of her Karim Sar(6189m) ascent.

On June 5th 2009 Paul Hersey and I arrived in Islamabad to discover security in the city at an all time high. Soldiers with AK47's, roadblocks and a wary population had emptied the streets and our anxious guide Baig (Nazir Sabir Expeditions) saw us as a potential target for every kidnapper, suicide bomber and insurgent in Central Asia. He wouldn't let us out of his sight.

We drove north up the Karakoram Highway against an endless tide of refugees fleeing the Swat Valley, Baig breathing a nervous sigh of relief when we reach the relative safety of Gilgit. Three days later we were ensconced at basecamp beside the Shilinbar Glacier, under the south face of Karim Sar. The face was a confusing mass of steep snow slopes, hanging glaciers and granite rock bands culminating in the summit ice cap. With an elevation of 2600m, it's was a daunting sight...

Read her personal account here: www.patdeavoll.co.nz

By Mountain Hardwear Athlete, Jon BowerMaster

WATCH THE TRAILER

We're just wrapping up the editing of a beautiful, provocative film about Southern Louisiana - "SoLa, Louisiana Water Stories" - about man's relationship with water in a part of the world where everywhere you look you're surrounded by bayou, swamp or wetlands, the Mississippi River or Gulf of Mexico. Home to the most unique and vital culture in America, every Cajun has a story - or two, three or more - about ... water.

Today too many of those stories are negative. SoLa's waterways are home to some serious environmental problems, including oil and gas spills, petrochemical waste, fertilizer run-off from its neighbors and coastal erosion that is disappearing twenty-five square miles of Southern Louisiana each year.

Today between 8 and 9 a.m. EST - August 27 - "ABC's Good Morning America" and Sam Champion are excerpting from our film, taking their own look at one of the most serious and mysterious of problems, a growing Dead Zone in the Gulf of Mexico.

KEEP UP WITH JON AT HIS BLOG NOTES FROM SEA LEVEL AND AT JONBOWERMASTER.COM

Email Jon at: jonbowermaster@yahoo.com

By Mountain Hardwear Athlete, Erik Weihenmayer

As Erik's friend Steve Ackerman puts it, "The most profound and effective leadership is inspiring others to do great things by your own example of doing great things."

This past June, Kevin Cherilla, the Base Camp manager for Erik's historic Mt. Everest expedition, engaged in another remarkable project: guiding eight blind students from the Foundation for Blind Children in Phoenix on a climb of Kilimanjaro, the highest peak in Africa.

The FBC team stands on the summit of Kilimanjaro. | Photo Courtesy of Erik Weihenmayer

This recent expedition was reminiscent of the 2005 Kilimanjaro expedition that Erik organized with blind adults, when five blind people from four different continents stood on the Roof of Africa. Erik was joined by Douglas Sidialo, who lost his sight in the 1998 US Embassy bombing in Nairobi and who became the first blind African to reach Kilimanjaro's summit. So inspired by the climb and his life goal to promote peace and forgiveness, Douglas decided to bike the length of Africa, 7500 miles, from Cairo, Egypt to Cape Town, South Africa, and was sponsored by Erik.

Before and after the 2005 expedition, several visits were made to schools serving blind children in the Arusha region of East Africa. The experiences provided first-hand insight into the pressing need for better educational resources for blind children. As a result, Erik and others, including Unilever CEO Paul Polman, founded the Kilimanjaro Blind Trust.

The Trust, which works in conjunction with the Perkins School for the Blind in Boston, gives children in East Africa access to the technologies that help them to lead more fulfilling lives and become more integral parts of their communities. Some of these projects include the distribution of Perkins Braillers, repair of the machines, Braille literacy training and teachers to work with blind students. Both the Kilimanjaro Blind Trust and the Perkins School strongly believe that empowering blind and visually impaired individuals worldwide is dependent upon education and literacy, giving blind children the life skills they need to succeed.

Photo Courtesy of Erik Weihenmayer

A blind student at the Mwereni Integrated School for the Blind in Moshi, Tanzania reads a letter in Braille. The 2009 expedition raised funds to donate Braille typewriters, canes and magnifiers to the school.

Although both the 2005 and 2009 expeditions of blind and sighted climbers are tremendous accomplishments, the reach goes far beyond the physical achievement. The Foundation for Blind Children team raised tens of thousands of dollars and in turn visited the same schools, attesting to how the Kilimanjaro Blind Trust is profoundly impacting the blind children of East Africa.

Photo Courtesy of Erik Weihenmayer

At the Mwerini Integrated School for the Blind, a student types on a donated braille typewriter. The school is only one of a few for the blind in Tanzania and serves 47 blind students.

August 6, 2009
By Patricia Bamert, Office of Ueli Steck

Expedition Gasherbrum II | Photo Courtesy of Ueli Steck

A little bit earlier than scheduled my wife and I returned back to Switzerland. So I have enough time to pack the rest for the upcoming Makalu expedition and to get some rest, before I will definitively leave for Nepal on August 20, 2009.

I am very happy about the Gasherbrum expedition. Though Gasherbrum II is a an easy peak to climb and the weather was very unstable, with high winds and a lot of precipitations, I could celebrate my first ascent on a peak over 8000 meters. Celebrate is not really the right word to use: with 5 minutes peak stop and the upcoming descent back to camp 2, my euphoria was quite modest. A lot of snow shaped the season. I left camp 2 at 6500 meters on July 9 towards summit. I struggled through deep snow, which was either knee or hip deep. 12 hours I dug myself through the snow. On the summit pyramid I was about to give up. "What is this all about," I told myself after hours of tracking through the deep snow. I can't be so far anymore to the summit, I thought, and mountaineering is just a matter of will. "Move on," was my device.

The Rosie's Girls will be visiting Mountain Hardwear tomorrow 9am & 12!

During a three-week summer camp, 6th - 8th grade girls learn about and apply skills in carpentry, welding, fire fighting, horticulture and other technical trades. The curriculum includes creative expression such as mask making and journaling. Participants engage in a ropes course, self-defense and other fun physical challenges. "A Girl's World" activities allow the girls to explore issues such as gender roles, body image and social pressure. Because Richmond is the site of the Rosie the Riveter/World War II Home Front National Historical Park, the girls learn about that legacy first- hand by meeting with local heroes, and working in historic settings. All the girls work together on a community service project for a local organization.

Click here to view the East Bay Rosie's Girls Flyer or visit www.Rosiesgirls.org
Contact Don Lau for more information at DLau@ymcaeastbay.org

Watch this inspiring video from the Vermont session.

Jason Miller reviews the all new Mountain Hardwear Fluid 10 on Feedthehabit.com

With all the hydration packs currently on the market, there are only a handful that I can totally recommend (Deuter comes to mind). But, the new Mountain Hardwear Fluid 10/18/26 hydration pack lineup looks like a great foray into the market. The best feature is the frame sheet, dubbed HardWave, which looks like an accordion going top-to-bottom for a back-conforming fit, but still providing torsional rigidity. Another bonus of this design is its ability to conform to the contours of your back while providing excellent breathability.

An additional innovation on this pack is the OTF (On-the-Fly) Compression system that allows you to cinch down the entire pack from the hip. This ingenious design has long been needed in the market. I always complain when packs don't have compression straps to cinch the load, but this one takes simple compression straps to the next level by allowing you to cinch the entire load down from the waistbelt. Capacity is 600 cu. in. and weight is 1 lb. 4 oz. with an MSRP of $80

View Mountain Hardwear Fluid 10 photos here: Feedthehabit.com
Visit MountainHardwear.com to view Backpacks.

Erik Weihenmayer, Blind Adventurer and Team Lumber
Click here to visit Erik's Website

The race kicked off with a brisk swim across the mighty Colorado River to a raft waiting on the other side. Teams then piled into the raft, flipped it and climbed back in. The clock stopped when each team successfully beached their boat back on the near shore. The fastest teams were not necessarily the strongest swimmers or paddlers, but rather those with the best strategy in navigating the current, and using the eddy along the shore to their advantage.

Race organizer, Ian Adamson, began his introductory remarks with a reminder, "Teamwork is the hallmark of adventure racing. As individuals, no team is faster than its slowest member, but as a team, you are much stronger."

Erik and his teammates paddle hard to the finish of the prologue on Day 1. | Photo Courtesy of Erik

The following two days took athletes by mountain bike, raft, and by foot deep into the Colorado wilderness as they navigated through a series of checkpoints. The level of teamwork was apparent as paraplegic athletes gave directions to blind athletes, who in return, helped push their special one-off hand cycles up steep hills. Teams used specially modified bungee cords to tow one-offs and even runners; this is a technique often used in adventure racing which enables a tired team member to rest while the other keeps up the pace.

By Sam Magro, Photographer/Guide

Of the routes that went up over the past few months the first winter ascent of Ravens Crack was the highlight. Stephen Koch and I skied in at 4am in January climbed 600' of ice (Prospector Falls WI4) and steep snow to the base of the Ravens Crack. There we embarked on 1,200' of spectacular sustained mixed climbing topping out at WI5 M7. We didn't complete the climb the first go and returned 2 weeks later to complete the route in a 22 hour round trip day. The route has some history so if you want to put it on the blog I would like to include that as well

I came back to Bozeman this year on Thanksgiving Day after 2 months of cragging in Kentucky and Tennesee. It was a drastic change from my standard West Coast rock n road trip. Primarily the rock is all cragging with no multi-pitch or marathon days. I was missing the long days and longed to be back in MT among the mountains.

While I was climbing on steep sand stone pockets and the infamous cracks of the T-wall, my Montana Brethren was starting to scrape around on alpine ice. I was back in town for less than a week when Aaron Thrasher and myself decided to try a new mixed line on the north face of?????? The idea was hatched and a date was planned to head deep in to the Beartooth Mountains. The weekend came and along with it a brutal cold snap of -10 in town which would be around -20 on the north face of ???? Having the luxury of being locals we simply opted to wait for prime conditions.

It came one week later just before the Bozeman Ice Festival. This round we invited my brother Whit to join. We got to the trailhead by 8pm and went straight to bed. The temps were quite pleasant and the amount of snow fall was minimal enough to merit using shoes on the initial approach.

We awoke pre-dawn and by 5 am were hiking up East Rose Bud canyon in the fading light of the massive moon.

Sam Magro climbing frozen moss and thin ice on FA of Moon Burn (WI4, M5, 300m) Beartooth Mountains, MT | Photo by Aaron Thrasher

Sam Magro entering the crux roof pitch on first known winter ascent of Raven Crack on Prospector Mountain of Death Canyon, Tetons, Wyoming | Photo by Stephen Koch

Sam Magro nearing the end of a long day on first winter ascent of Raven Crack in Death Canyon, Tetons, Wyoming | Photo by Stephen Koch

Whit Magro on FA of Golden Throat, Beartooth Mountains, WY | Photo by Sam Magro

Justin Griffin on pitch 2 of the Golden Graham Wall, Beartooth Mountains, WY | Photo by Sam Magro

Erik Weihenmayer and the No Barriers team recently concluded the No Barriers Festival 2009, held at Shake-A-Leg Miami, which showcased some of the most cutting-edge ideas, approaches, techniques and technologies enabling people with challenges to push through their own personal barriers to live more full and adventurous lives. No Barriers shared its mission with participants from as far away as Hawaii and Alaska, Venezuela and Columbia, and Switzerland and Israel. It brought together pioneers, many with disabilities themselves, who are pushing the envelope in a variety of fields, from technology and science, to art and athletics, to adventure and humanitarian causes.

The festival included numerous adaptive clinics, which demonstrated innovative techniques for open water swimming, paddling and scuba diving for amputees and paraplegics. Adaptive yoga classes helped those with severe mobility issues to increase flexibility and reduce pain. A scientist from MIT demonstrated his own pair of prosthetic legs, with computerized ankle joints, controlled by his cell phone. A blind sailor led tours for other blind participants using a talking GPS to navigate. A paraplegic athlete showed off his hand cycle which morphs into a wheelchair, enabling him to instantly rise to the height of a standing person and fit through narrow doorways. Capping the festival off was Molly the Pony, who lost her leg during Katrina and became one of the first ponies to be fitted with a prosthetic leg.

A participant tries out a morphing hand cycle at No Barriers / Andrea Kennedy

In addition to highlighting adaptive technology, No Barriers places a high importance on the human spirit. The goal is to spark in people an attitude which leads them to confront their formidable obstacles head-on, to believe they can solve their own challenges, to become their own advocates, and ultimately to determine their own futures. No Barriers is a universal message, for all of us who, despite our backgrounds, circumstances, or abilities, wish to shatter barriers and pursue our dreams.

Click here to read this outstanding front-page article in the Miami Herald on No Barriers called, Technology has redefined what it means to be `disabled'

One of summer's quiet pleasures is the chance to escape with a good book for some relaxed reading. Most book stores stock to the brim with paperback romance novels and fantasy fiction for the beach-going crowd - but what's on the shelves for the would-be adventurer, facing the daunting challenge of a placid vacation with the family instead? There are plenty of new best-seller titles to choose from, but recently I've been getting the most pleasure by re-discovering old classics. Visit Fredrick Wilkinson's Blog to view three of his all-time favorites.

By Jon Bowermaster, Mountain Hardwear Athlete

We screened our new, big, fun, informative, high-def film - TERRA ANTARCTICA, Rediscovering the Seventh Continent - this past weekend for the very first time, at the Blue Ocean Film Festival in Savannah, Georgia, and came away with some great review. Out of more than 200 films entered TERRA ANTARCTICA - about our 2008 exploration of the Antarctic Peninsula by sea kayak, foot and small plane - was one of six chosen to compete for the "Best of Festival" prize and was ultimately named the best "Ocean Issues" film.

Given my interest in and commitment to exploring the world's ocean and bringing back stories from it we couldn't ask for a better honor than to be regarded as the film "that most effectively raises awareness and increases understanding about environmental and sustainability issues facing the oceans and its inhabitants." That is exactly our goal. WATCH TRAILER.

KEEP UP WITH JON AT HIS BLOG, NOTES FROM SEA LEVEL AND AT JONBOWERMASTER.COM

F*** I hate this s***. I know a lot of you have lost close friends and relatives in your lives as have I and I'm sure you can attest to this. It never gets any easier and it shouldn't. Friendship and love are some of the hardest things to find but when we do it's everything and when it disappears it hurts like fucking nothing else.

After finding out that they called off the search, I didn't know what to think. I was sad to hear that they had and I also knew that conditions were dangerous enough as to put others at great risk. I can't imagine how hard that decision must have been.

People like Micah and Jonny don't come around that often. I've actually never met Wade but from what I've heard and read, he fit right in. All three had already accomplished so much with their lives with much more waiting in the wings. They were forces behind a community and helped to guide it by envisioning its future, being creative and moving it forward in a positive direction, and growing it by inviting others to experience it through their creations and relentless positive attitude.

Micah was as passionate as they come and his enthusiasm drove you to be as motivated and focused on whatever you were passionate about. It didn't matter what it was: climbing, surfing, work, film, art...whatever. He was genuinely interested in your stoke and would often follow your thoughts with "Wow, that's cool Man!"

I started to get to know Micah only after we began working together a little over two years ago. I didn't know much about him before but it didn't take too long to realize how lucky all of us here at Mountain Hardwear were to be a part of his life. He filled our heads with ideas, crazy schemes, and new ways of looking at things and he filled our hearts with laughter and well....heart.

Walking that line of being a manager and being a friend has always been difficult for me. I don't think there is a line really. It's just a vast blurry something or other. But after numerous phone calls, emails, tradeshows and other outings and events, I'm honored to have been a friend of Micah Dash. He had a huge heart, a great perspective on things and like many of you have said, he was able to make light of some of the most serious situations.

I sometimes wished I'd had a tape recorder around when Micah was in the room. I don't know how many one-liners, crazy stories, impersonations, or jokes I've heard come from Micah, but I think I spent most of my time around him laughing my ass off and just being drawn into his world. This was a touch he had with everyone whether he was guiding, presenting to an audience, talking on the phone or at the bar, or through his writings. I will truly miss him.

Fredrick Wilkinson's blog

In Memory of Wade, Micah, and Jonny

Friends, family, and climbers around the world are mourning the loss of Micah Dash, Wade Johnson, and Jonny Copp. The trio were last seen alive when they left their basecamp in the Gongga (Minya Konka) Range of the Eastern Himalaya in Seuchuan Province, China, on May 20th. Jonny and Wade's bodies have been positively identified by search parties. It is likely all three perished in an avalanche.

In their home city of Boulder, Colorado, friends mobilized as soon as it was discovered they had missed their flight home. Some immediately flew to China, while others stayed awake for days on end to coordinate information, procure travel visas, collect donations, write press-releases, and provide comfort within the close-nit adventuring community. The outpouring of love and support on their blog has been staggering.

I never had the opportunity to meet Wade. But I can imagine the excitement he must have felt to be going into the mountains with Micah and Jonny, who I knew through years of haphazard encounters while traveling and climbing. I would bump into Jonny in Alaska or Micah in Yosemite Valley, share an evening of revelry, and then not see them for another nine months or a year. I am grateful for the few chances I had to tie into a rope with them at the crags, and saddened I never shared a true mountain adventure with either of them.

2003: Some friends and I were slumming it at Kahiltna International Airport when Kelly Cordes and Jonny arrived. Most of the West Buttress expeditions had been keeping a dignified distance from our slushy hovel, but Jonny and Kelly came right over to say hello and socialize. We watched them blaze up to the third-ice band on Depravation on Mount Hunter, then they headed to the East Fork of the Kahiltna for something a little more remote. That was so Jonny: he seemed like he'd rather go see what was around the next corner, instead of wasting all his time on the obvious, popular objectives like Hunter. I remember watching as they skied back into BC several days later in swirling grey clouds. They'd found adventure, all right. After FA-ing a 4,000 mixed route, Kelly had gone into a crevasse while skiing down in a white out. After hauling his partner out, Jonny found their tiny bivy tent. They crawled inside to brew up, and, though they were out of food, Jonny reached into a stuff sack to present Kelly with... a can of beer. That was also Jonny. You knew he was capable not only of leading the crux pitch or haulling your arse out a crevasse but he also had the class to produce a malted beverage in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness.

The first time I met Micah was in Indian Creek, back in the early 2000-s... Somebody had fallen near the top of a hard, tricky to protect finger crack, and they asked Micah if he wanted to go up to finish the lead...

By Dougald MacDonald, Mountain World

Swiss climber Ueli Steck free-climbed Golden Gate (5.13b, 41 pitches) and fell on only a single pitch, onsighting the rest of the climb. And the one pitch that spoiled his onsight? It was the 5.11c crack off the top of El Cap Spire, just before Golden Gate heads right from the Salathé Wall. Steck slipped on wet rock on this relatively easy pitch, but onsighted the route's five 5.12 and three 5.13 pitches. Read more on Climbing.com.

Also check out SuperTopo Climber's Forum.

Erik Weihenmayer 's memoir, Touch the Top of the World, was made into a feature film and recently released on DVD. For an indepth look at the film go to A&ETV.

Blindsight follows six Tibetan teenagers who set out to climb the 23,000 foot Lhakpa Ri on the north side of Mount Everest. A dangerous journey soon becomes a seemingly impossible challenge made all the more remarkable by the fact that the teenagers are blind.

"Just because you lose your sight, doesn't mean you lose your vision."
- Blind climber Erik Weihenmayer

Read Erik Weihenmayer 's Athlete bio on MountainHardwear.com

By Jon Bowermaster, Mountain Hardwear Adventure Journalist

The last time I was in the island nation of the Maldives - nearly 400,000 people scattered among 1,200 tiny islands running south for a thousand miles off the tips of Sri Lanka and India - the place was on edge. It was early in 2005 and the tsunami waves had rushed over the islands just a few weeks before. Fortunately for the Maldives a combination of deep channels running between islands and the sizable coral reefs that surround many of them prevented the giant wave from sweeping its entire population into the sea. Only about 100 people were killed, far fewer than drowned on the coast of Somalia hundreds of miles further west.

Photo Credit: Jon Bowermaster

I came to report on the post-tsunami impacts for the New York Times and as I wandered among the homes badly cracked by the wave and saw decades-old garbage dumps swept into the sea by waters that rushed over the islands - which rise less than six feet above sea level - everyone was talking about the possibility of another such incident. "What can we do to prevent the next wave from taking us all," was the collective concern. "What if there is a second wave coming?"

Photo Credit: Jon Bowermaster

Today I'm back for a couple weeks of scouting - we'll shoot a documentary film here later in the year - and the subject has changed. No one is talking about tsunami waves, but everyone is talking about rising sea levels. Both are obviously legitimate concerns in a place where all of life lives just a couple feet above the sea. Talk is heightened by a variety of recent reports that sea level rise around the globe is now anticipated to come faster, reach higher ... and the fact that the Maldives new president, Mohamed Nasheen, is talking louder than any elected official in the world about the need to do anything we can to slow the seas from rising. He obviously has a vested interest.

CNN.com follows climber Ben Clark, a Mountain Hardwear Athlete, and friends on their adventure across the globe to ski down the Himalayas. CNN interviews will be posted to the blog at www.skithehimalayas.com.

By Marc Hoffmeister, Team Leader, Operation Denali

Sponsorship through Mountain Hardwear's Expedition Sponsorship Program is a dream come true for a group of guys who didn't think climbing Denali was even possible a few years ago. The mission of Operation Denali is to enable four warriors wounded in the Global War on Terror to overcome our devastating combat injuries and successfully summit 20,320 ft Denali, the highest mountain in North America. The climb symbolizes the strength of our Nation and those who defend it. Specific details about the climb are online at VeteransCoalition.org.

I've always loved the outdoors. I used to spend all of my free time climbing in the back country or dreaming about climbing the big peaks. I stopped dreaming the day the enemy got lucky and I earned a purple heart. In 2007, while conducting combat operations in Iraq, a roadside bomb ripped through my HMMWV. The explosively formed penetrator tore through all of us in the truck. We survived because the rest of my men did everything right, but I lost effective use of my left arm and hand to my injuries. Despite our survival, life has changed for us all, in both mind and body. We became casualties of war. I bear this title proudly. I have no regrets and I have no anger at the enemy or frustration with the war. I know we've made a difference and I accept my sacrifices.

Marc Hoffmeister earned a Purple Heart.
Photo Courtesy of Marc Hoffmeister

By Cynthia Houng Visit Cynthia's website.

Those who know John Muir largely through his writings on the Sierras and on Yosemite will be surprised to learn that Muir spent the final years of his life in a 3-story Victorian mansion in Martinez, California.

Northwestern View, c. 1914, John Muir National Historic Site
The 3-story Victorian mansion, showing the rose bushes and small ornamental trees that surrounded the house. The canary palms that flank the front door were much smaller in Muir's day. They are almost as tall as the house now.

A small town on the edge of the Carquinez Strait, Martinez provides easy access, via the Sacramento River Delta, to both the Central Valley and the San Francisco Bay. During the Gold Rush, Martinez became a center for shipping and for agriculture. Though the first settlers planted wheat on the fertile floodplains, by the late 19th century, most of the land around Martinez had been given over to fruits, nuts, and vineyards. The area supplied San Francisco with fresh produce, and later, with the advent of refrigerated boxcars, it supplied the East as well.

Muir's father-in-law, Dr. John T. Strenzel, held a large and prosperous orchard just outside of the city limits. Strenzel grew apples, cherries, pears, olives, and other fruits. From 1880 until Strentzel's death in 1890, Muir and his wife, Louise (known as "Louie" to her husband and family) lived about a mile from the Strentzel House and helped manage the ranch. After Strentzel's death, Muir moved into the main house, a classic Victorian mansion with gabled roofs and a working bell tower. Muir would occupy this house until his death in 1914.

At the Strentzel ranch, Muir's interest in botany paid off. Under Muir's watch, the ranch flourished, and he became a wealthy man. Muir and his father-in-law both experimented widely with new cultivars. To one side of the house stands a small grove of Santa Rosa plums, the groundbreaking cultivar introduced by Luther Burbank in 1906.

By Pat Deavoll

I had the first inkling something was wrong about seven years ago.

My knees and ankles started to hurt walking down the hard ice of the Hooker glacier, and I didn't want to jump crevasses, preferring to sit on my backside and slide. But this is what happens when you hit middle age, I convinced myself. Everyone's like this. Don't be a wimp!

Limping in the Garwhal, India

I continued climbing- two seasons in Alaska (2002 and 2003), a hard expedition in India in 2004 and expeditions to China/Tibet in 2005 and 2006. All with the aid of double doses of codeine. I realised the pain wasn't going to go away, but at least I could cover it up.

Then in the summer of '06/'07 I was walking out down the Hooker Glacier (I like the Hooker Glacier) on a hot day. My knees had me wincing and I knew something was going on with my right ankle. By the time I got home, the ankle was thick and swollen and I could hardly walk.

By Will Meinen

After the third winter of efforts, it's finally done. The Jimmy Skid Rig has been climbed. I still can't believe it as I sit here and try to figure out how to sum it up for a 'blog'.

What is the Jimmy Skid Rig?

The name was born from the Hilti drill used on the route. With a fiberglass patch job holding the body together and a hundred foot extension cord running from the drill to the three motorcycle batteries duct taped together in the bottom of a haul bag, it was a sketchy setup at best, but it was all we could afford. After inspecting the setup, a friend laughed out loud and called Brandon and I a 'Jimmy Skid Rig' outfit, and with very little confidence he wished us luck on the mission. And with that the name stuck. We definitely weren't conventional mixed climbers, and our plan wasn't very polished. We were just a couple guys with a get 'er done sort of attitude.

The Jimmy Skid Rig was born early December two winters ago when Brandon Pullan and I negotiated the 'adventure-race course' that guards the base of the route. As we stood at the base of the route and looked up at the ice, we became obsessed with an idea. Our idea was to find a way to climb the overhanging mixed terrain to the daggers of frozen water that had dripped down the exposed ice-curtain that loomed above us.

The Jimmy Skid Rig

At the time, I didn't know how we would do it, or how long it would take, but we knew that, somehow, we were going to get 'er done. When you have an idea, or a dream that you believe in, it's important that you follow it through because dreams are the stuff that the good life is made of. We quickly returned with enough gear to climb the Trango Tower. Tents, stoves, static ropes, dynamic ropes, bolts, pins, beaks, power drill, ice tools, hammers, ascenders, cams, nuts, and a bottle of whiskey. After the first season of effort we reached a high point about half way up.

The Natural Capital Project believes that we can -- and should -- put a price on nature.

Read Quest's accompanying Reporter's Notes

By Will Meinen

"I think I'm getting heat stroke. Does anyone have anymore water?"

I looked at my thermometer again to confirm my half delusional state of mind; twenty-three degrees Celsius. As messed up as it was, I wasn't going to fight it. Rather, I was going to soak up the good rays of vitamin D and appreciated the once in a life time experience. I was half way up Forbidden Corner on Mt. Yamnuska, enjoying the warm sun, a stellar view, and the fine company of Brandon Pullan and Julia Niles.

Julia Niles enjoying some winter sun on Forbidden Corner

By Mike Libecki

"With full rage and fury the tent exploded and ripped in two, tent poles flailed like slashing swords, our tent had transformed into a savage monster. We dove out of the tent-beast and watched it thrashing and swinging its broken aluminum poles and nylon limbs."

I have a love-hate relationship with gravity, mostly love, of course. Gravity is my friend as well as my foe, mostly friend, of course. Without both the good and bad, negative and positive, a beautiful, healthy relationship is just not possible. Without the possibility of being blown off a huge rock-wall by hurricane-force winds and falling thousands of feet playing off the goal of standing on a distant virgin summit (and celebrating with a nude dance wearing the current year's Chinese Zodiac mask), the challenges of big-wall climbing would not lure me like a dog in heat.

This yin-yang relationship has gone on for fifteen years now, this pairing of man and stone, this obsession for big-wall first ascents, this romance enriched by gravity. On five different expeditions to East Greenland in the last 10 years, my relationship with gravity has grown like a high school crush that turns into marriage.

Greenland reminds me of a fantasyland right out of my five-year-old daughter's princess-and-dragon books. There are the wonders of whales, polar bears, foxes, and seals, endless wild flowers every color of the rainbow (many edible), traditional hunting and fishing with the local Inuit people, and magical boat rides in harsh, ice-laden seas, with the glorious bonus of 24-hour sunlight reflecting off glassy, bluish-white icebergs of every shape and size.

When not on a solo expedition, I invite only my best friends and partners. We share in the mystery, live in the "now," and create memories together that will never leave the warehouses of our minds. My closest and most trustworthy climbing partner is Josh Helling. From early training days on El Cap through suffering ascents on Baffin Island and in Antarctica, our partnership has grown into a bond as solid as the granite we hang from. We have an unspoken, shared focus on safety, respect, experience, and the conviction that success means coming home alive; standing on the summit is icing on the cake. A climbing partnership is one of the most important relationships in life. It is handing over your heart and breath, your fate and future, the chance you will get see your family and friends again.

Utah-New York-Iceland-Tasiilaq, East Greenland. Before we left I arranged for a 22-foot arctic fishing boat--wrapped with an extra 30 millimeters of fiberglass for unexpected sea-ice collisions--to take us 230 miles through a psychedelic sea maze of giant electric blue icebergs and white geometric plates of frozen ocean. As we sailed south down the coast of the ice-capped continent, icebergs bobbing slowly up and down in the rolling sea swells punctuated the aqua-blue-bleeding-into-copper horizon. Time, water, and sun carve these ice masterpieces into beautiful abstract sculptures, some the size of cars, other as big as cruise ships. At times we disappeared into thick fog and, surrounded by tingling mist, we would find ourselves looking up at giant, striped arching ribbons across the sky, mixed with silver, gray, and white-metallic that formed ghost-rainbows.

Ghost rainbow and sea ice

Skiing or Ice Climbing?

By Will Meinen

Here in the Rockies it's an awfully long winter, and it's a good idea to have more than one type of arrow in your quiver.

I use to exclusively ice climb in the winter. I was young and I loved being scared shitless. I thought it gave me character. Post holing through waste deep snow on the approaches, screaming barfies at the belays, brittle ice with no protection, and always wondering if or when the loaded snow-bowl would cut loose and come avalanching down. It's a masochistic practice at best.

Just as time will smooth out the roughest Scotch whiskey, time has had its maturing effects on me too. Sometime last year while I was slogging through the snow on my way to another lonely ice climb that never sees the sunlight all I could think about was how much fun my skier friends were having shredding their way down the same snow that I was having a horrible time trudging up.

By Cynthia Houng

A mountain is a vertical world. As we move upwards, we travel through layered ecosystems. Here in the Sierras, we pass through open sagebrush desert (on the dry East side) or rolling grasslands, then chaparral, then forest (pine, occasionally mixed with oak), high montane meadows (often wet with mountain streams), until finally we break through the timberline and enter a strange but beautiful land.

Washed by intense sunlight and scoured by strong winds, these high alpine landscapes are a study in contrasts. Delicate, jewel-like plants blossom beneath an endless sky. Miniature columbines and gentians grow amidst massive stone peaks.

I fell in love with these alpine landscapes while still in graduate school. Those long summer breaks seemed designed for long trips to the mountains, and I spent as much time as I could outside, above timberline. This became our summer pattern -- to alternate days of hiking or climbing in the high Sierra with lazy days lounging with my papers and notebooks. On one of these rest days, I picked up a copy of Anne Zwinger and Beatrice Willard's classic Land Above the Trees: A Guide to American Alpine Tundra. First published in 1972, Zwinger's book remains a classic in the field, presenting a lucid overview of North American alpine ecosystems.

By Freddie Wilkinson

One month ago, I wrote "Heros in Fine-print", which highlighted the actions of two Sherpas who were involved in rescuing several survivors of the K2 tragedy. In subsequent interviews with them, some new information has come to light that should be reported as part of the ongoing effort to find out precisely what happened. The information concerns a radio transmission that occurred on August 2nd between Pemba Gyalje and the rescue party of Pasang Bhote and Tsering Bhote. It occurred sometime after 3 PM, just after Pemba had found Marco Confortola lying passed out on a pile of fresh avalanche debris at roughly 8,000 meters.

As Pemba was reviving Confortola with bottled oxygen, he received a radio call from Pasang Bhote and Tsering Bhote, who reported that they had rendezvoused with Jumic Bhote and two of the Koreans (most likely Hwang Dong-Jin and Park Kyeong-Hyo) at the top of the Bottleneck. They said that aside from some frostbite, Jumic Bhote was basically alright, and that everyone was coming down. Pemba told them to hurry down, as the serac was very unstable.

The rescue team went on to say that they had witnessed a climber in a red suit with patches fall from the middle of the Traverse, the section of the route which connects the top of the Bottleneck couloir to the summit slopes. It was unclear whether the man fell, or was swept off by an avalanche, but he evidently was 15 - 30 minutes behind Jumic Bhote and the two Koreans. Moments after this radio communication, Pemba heard a large avalanche and witnessed the bodies of two Sherpas and two Koreans tumble by him.

I learned months ago in email correspondence with Pemba that the rescue team had succeeded in reaching Jumic Bhote and two of the Koreans. But it wasn't until I met with him in Kathmandu and we had the chance to speak extensively about K2 that I heard about the man in the red suit behind Jumic and the Koreans. Though both Gerard McDonnell and Pakistani guide Karim Meherban both wore red suits, only McDonnell's had patches on the front, matching the description given in the radio transmission. Accordingly, Pemba believes that this man was his friend and teammate McDonnell.

By Ben Clark

High in the desert southwest tucked away like a forgotten postcard is a place few travelers wander. Off Highway 141 southeast of Naturita, Colorado, is a remote and untrodden valley. Only a few dirt roads split from the asphalt that darts through the valley floor. In the dead heat of mid day tarantulas crawl across this road. Only one mountain is visible from here, Lone Cone---the westernmost peak in the Colorado Rockies.

The northwest rim of this valley is unassuming to the naked eye--barren undeveloped acreage. Over the last three years climbers from the surrounding regions have slowly laid footprints into sandy washouts leading to adventure. These explorers have discovered caves in slickrock flatirons and climbed on the boulders that calve from the ridgelines. It is a unique experience, unassuming from the road and reinforced by it's blankness on maps yet contradicted by the nomenclature that deters many travelers from entering at all; Disappointment Valley.

Ben Clark working for the 1st ascent of "The Beast Within," V5, Disappointment Valley, Colorado
Photographer Damon Johnston, spotter Joel Coniglio

The tactics and strategies of the climbers in this area are simple; go, find and do. There are few established lines, there are fewer names for climbs and there are rarely more than a handful of attempts at moving over the stone before a classic boulder problem is sent and soon forgotten. With a team of a few people a problem be cleaned and pushed higher hold by hold until it is sent. The FA is a culmination of everyone's efforts. This is an area unlike many others in the lower 48 states today. There is no parking, there are no toilets or trail signs, yet the access is easy. Just pick a direction and head there, adventure will guide you. This is why we climb here, this is why continue to climb here, it feeds and fuels the passion for climbing with the unknown as a constant driving force.

By Freddie Wilkinson

"On the mountain there were no heroes," K2 survivor Cas van de Gevel was recently quoted as saying in Outside Magazine, " just an unspoken agreement that you help as much as you can."

Outside and Men's Journal recently published feature length pieces on the K2 disaster. Both stories lead with the tale of three European men, Wilco van Rooijen, Gerard McDonnell, and Marco Confortola, who bivouaced at nearly 28,000 feet after the catastrophic serac avalanche stripped the Bottleneck Couloir of its fixed ropes on the evening of August 1st. The next day, they were forced to down climb the Bottleneck un-roped. Along the way they passed a party of distressed Korean climbers; the three abandoned them to continue their own descents to safety. Two of them made it, but McDonnell was swept to his death in an avalanche.

While Confortola and van Rooijen can hardly be faulted for not doing more, it does seem like their teammate Cas van de Gevel is right - the tragedy was a grim game of Russian roulette. It was every man for himself.

Yet some extraordinary acts of bravery and selflessness did occur on K2 - you just might have to read the fine print to hear about it.

On a recent trip to Nepal, I tracked down two Sherpas, Chhiring Dorje and Pemba Gyalje, who were among those who summited on that fateful day. I had corresponded with them both via email for my own article in Rock and Ice, and I felt drawn to meet them in the flesh.

By Cynthia Houng

The first rains are falling, and that means it's time to plant native bulbs. Native plants perform the best when planted out before the rainy season moves into full swing. This allows them to establish a strong, healthy root system before the summer drought returns.

Before you rush to your local nursery to select your new treasures, survey your garden environment. Native bulbs are not difficult, but unlike cultivated "garden variety" bulbs, which are bred to enjoy a range of typical garden environments, native bulbs do have strict habitat preferences.

Here in the Bay Area, once-common native bulbs and bulb-like plants (those with rhizomes, tubers, or corms) include: mariposa lilies (Calochortus species), Blue-Eyed Grass (Sisyrinchium bellum), Wild Onions (Allium species), Fritillaries, Camas Lilies(Camassia species), and native Tiger and Turk's Cap lilies (Lilium species).

Dichlostemmas growing with goldfields, California foothills. May 2008.

Pay attention to your bulbs' cultural needs before you plant them. Certain plant associations may sound beautiful in theory, but cannot be achieved. For example: Some bulbs, such as the mariposa lilies, require a period of dry summer dormancy, and should not be watered during the summer drought period. Other bulbs are indigenous to wet, riparian areas and require supplemental watering. Mariposa lilies must rest during the summer drought, and should not be planted with Turk's Cap or Tiger lilies, which are native to moist, woodlands and enjoy a year-around watering regime.

If you have a Mediterranean garden, consider planting Brodiaeas, Triteleias, and Dichlostemmas in your borders. Plant them with Mediterranean plants, such as lavender and sage, or mix them into a native meadow. Also try them with conventional bulbs that do not mind a dry summer climate, such as miniature narcissus, or species tulips. Keep in mind that most California native bulbs are smaller in scale, and more delicate, than garden-variety tulips. They work well in rock gardens and perennial borders.

Carleton Watkins, Yosemite Falls (River View), 1861, Albumen print from wet-collodion negative, Private Collection, Montecito, California

By Cynthia Houng

Editor's Note: This October, the Getty Center presents a retrospective of Carleton Watkins's photographs. The exhibition includes a rare glimpse of Watkins's immense camera. For those who love Yosemite Valley, the exhibition offers visitors a glimpse of the Valley in the late nineteenth century.

Carleton Watkins arrived in California in 1851, following on the tail of the original 49ers. In 1853 or 54, Watkins found employment in Robert Vance's photography studio in San Francisco.

Watkins found himself drawn to the art and soon began creating photographs of his own. By the 1860s, Watkins had mastered his craft. In 1868, he exhibited his photographs of the American West at the Paris International Exposition. Widely praised by his peers -- including the painters Alfred Bierstadt and William Keith -- Watkins enjoyed a period of fame of prosperity.

Watkins's images created a lasting impact upon our perception of the American West. He began working as a photographer at a time when the American public hungered for images of the newfound West, and his photographs were distributed widely throughout the U.S. and Europe.

By Will Meinen

As much as I love the mountains, and the thrill of exposure and the excitement of adventure, sometimes it's all too much and my nerves get a little frail. When that happens, it's time to go on vacation and relax.

Some say my life is already a big ol' vacation already. I'd like to argue though. Cornices, seracs, rockfall, unplanned open bivies, scary descents, constantly dehydrated, and never well rested. Climbing mountains is no cakewalk. So where do I go here do I go to get away from it all?

I go sailing.

By Will Meinen

It's 11:14 on Wednesday June 25th, 2008. I check my Gmail. Nothing new. I check the Alpinist website for some newswires. I check the Mountain Hardwear blog for any updates. Ooo, an Alaska report. I read the story and look at the photos. Then I stare at the pile of papers on my desk that I'm suppose to process for my boss.

Click, Click, Clacker, Clack, Click. All I hear are mice clicking and keyboards typing at a rapid pace. Everyone around me is busy doing something. Busy little worker bees ensuring the shareholders a healthy profit margin. Filing, calculating, and double checking their work, in hopes of getting a good annual review.

It's 11:24 now. My life is wasting away in front of my eyes. And for what? A crummy paycheck that barely covers my rent and groceries in the over-priced city. I need to get back to the climbing life. This job sucks.

I open Microsoft Outlook and type up an email.

"Urban farming" is the hip new thing.

Maybe it's the economy. Or maybe Americans are just going through a "green" phase. Suddenly, urban farming is everywhere--it's in the news, in magazines, on television. Artists are getting on the bandwagon, too. Urban farming is so trendy that the New York Times even ran an article about hip young urbanites who replaced their lawns with home orchards. Composting is sexy now.

The urban farming concept is simple: grow good food close to home. Advocates of urban farming argue that the practice eliminates unnecessary fuel consumption, reduces our carbon footprints, and encourages good eating habits. For some families, a successful kitchen garden helps stretch the paycheck. Some families even manage to supplement their paychecks by selling extra produce at local farmers' markets.

In these hands, gardening becomes more than a leisure activity, rejoining the household economy. Before the 19th century, only the very wealthy could afford to keep decorative gardens. You and I would have spent our time digging around in our kitchen gardens, growing herbs, fruit, and other edibles to supplement our diet. Certain garden forms--such as the English cottage garden or the Italian courtyard garden--once existed not for pleasure, but for sustenance.

Today, advocates of "urban farming" hope to take us back to gardening's utilitarian roots. Whether we call them "urban farms," "kitchen gardens," "Victory gardens," or some hybrid of these terms, these spaces are supposed to produce useful things, like food.

By Janet Bergman

The owls woke me as they called loudly to each other, just a few feet outside of our loft window in New Hampshire. The sound of their cooing is eerie, but comforting.

Sitting up to look out the window, I think of my previous night's sleep, on the SFO-Boston redeye. After I climb a big wall I often have odd, unsettling dreams, usually having to do with sleeping in a portaledge or being umbilicalled to a hunk of granite for days on end. In this case, every time the plane jarred, I'd woken with an intense urge to put my carry-on backpack, which I'd stowed about four seats behind me, into a haul system and haul it up to me.

The loud nocturnal hunters, whom I had heard so many nights before, were so much more pleasant of a wake up in comparison. As I listened sleepily, the call of one of the owls, and then the other, fades. I picture one landing on a branch and hooting, and the other flying toward it in this all night game of tag.

Then I think of Freddie and I just a day before, climbing the 3000 foot Nose of El Capitan.

View Janet's photographs from the Nose

Jon holds up a photograph of Thor Heyerdahl.

By Jon Bowermaster

Tenerife, The Canary Islands -- A collection of seven islands 100 miles west of Morocco, the Canaries were named not for a species of yellow bird but rather a wild dog. The Latin Insularia Canaria means "Island of the Dogs." Romans gave them the name, due to an endemic breed of fierce dog said to live on the rocky, wind-swept isles. Some years later known as the Fortunate Isles (maybe the dogs had fled?), thanks to a reputation for an oft-pleasant climate. (The same year-round sunshine that today attracts more than 2 million tourists, most from the UK and Europe, to the commune of Spain.)

Until the 15th century the islands were otherwise occupied only by the cave-dwelling Guanches, who claimed the islands until slavers began arriving, capturing them and selling them on the continent. Other than some Stone Age tools, geometric cave etchings and a handful of ruins, it remains an essentially lost culture. They appeared only as small specs on the edge of navigation charts until conquistadors took possession of them, one at a time. The tiny island of La Gomera, for example, is where Columbus stayed on his voyages, and is still unspoiled today.

The islands are the tips of hundreds of volcanoes that first erupted from the seabed 14 million years ago. Teneguia on La Palma is the last volcano to erupt here, in 1971. Tenerife, the largest of the islands, is triangular -- 50 miles by 30 miles, rising sharply on all sides towards a 4,500-foot summit -- lushly vegetated in the north, sunny and arid in the south. Its biggest town, Santa Cruz, is lined with vacation condos and permanent home to 215,000.

It was to the outskirts of Santa Cruz that Thor Heyerdahl escaped in 1991, to escape the glare of fame that had built in his wake after nearly a century of innovative world exploration. Known worldwide for his exploration of the Pacific by wooden raft -- the Kon Tiki -- and early excavations on Easter Island elsewhere, he came to the Canaries to write and relax during his final days.

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Original German text by Edi Estermann, first published in the "Schweizer Illustrierte", Issue No. 23, June 2, 2008.

Translated by Patricia Bamert, with assistance from Cynthia Houng

Big stories begin with small coincidences. A coincidence that Ueli Steck switches on his phone once again on that evening, just before he gets into his sleeping bag.

Base camp, Annapurna South, Nepal, 4200m above sea level: It's Monday, May 19, 7pm. It is snowing slightly at the foot of this 3000 meter tall wall of granite. Ueli Steck, 31, from Ringgenberg (Canton of Bern) and Simon Anthamatten, 24, from Zermatt, (Canton of Valais), came to climb this wall. In the following days the climbing will start. Both are very fit and highly motivated. Dry meat and cheese for dinner - perfect. The chocolate cake is ready. But today there will be no dessert.

"One missed call," reads Ueli's Handy display. Horia Colibasanu, a 31 year old dentist from Rumania, tried to call him. At that moment Horia is up at Camp 4 on the ridge of the Annapurna at 7400 m. On Friday Horia, Inaki Ochoa de Olza, 40 (Spain), and Alexey Bolotov, 45 (Russia), climb over the east ridge towards the Annapurna Summit (8091m).

By Ueli Steck

Ringgenberg, Monday, June 2, 2008

Simon and I are back in Switzerland and we will try in the next days and weeks to get some rest and we hope that we will work up the happenings of the past weeks.

When we received the distress call form the Romanian [climber] Horia Colibasanu, it was clear for us that we would go up and help them. For us it was just obvious. We didn't hesitate one second. At the same time we knew that afterwards the expedition would be over.

Annapurna will be watching over the valley of the Modi Khola forever. We as human beings, we will have only one life to live for. I have been at the Annapurna twice. But I can go there another 20 times, if I wish to do so. But both of us, Simon and I, we would have never been able to live with the fact, that we didn't go up and help our friends in need.

We did our best. Unfortunately our help came too late.

But Inaki was never alone. Horia was near him all the time, helping him until he had to go down himself. When I reached Camp 4 I hoped Inaki would make it. But all the Dexamethason I gave him, all my efforts to keep him alive, failed. Inaki didn't have to die alone. This gives me consolation.

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By Pat Deavoll

Pakistan - Islamic republic, hotchpotch of federally administered states and tribal areas, land of vast physical contrast. Its an intriguing place to visit post 9/11.

My friend Lydia and I discovered this on a trip in July 2007, the original focus of which was to be the first to climb a 7000m peak in the northern region of Hunza as a team of two of New Zealand's best female mountaineers. We had strong financial backing and having generated some unexpected media interest, were driven singlemindedly towards our task. So it was with some surprise we found on arrival our interests piqued by the implications of being in a Muslim country in 2007.

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By Freddie Wilkinson

"There they are! She's almost to the second ice band.... wow! Is today their fifth or sixth day on the climb?"

If being an alpine paparazzi is your thing, it's hard to beat hanging out at basecamp on the Southeast fork of the Kahiltna glacier in Alaska. The SE fork is the starting point for virtually all ascents of the Alaska Range's big three: Denali, Mount Foraker, and Mount Hunter. On a busy evening in mid-May, one finds plane loads of guided West Buttress expeditions with their matching tents, private groups of gumbies trying to figure out how to light their stoves, and brooding alpinists sulking around "waiting for the forecast to improve". Basecamp is to Alaskan climbing what Ellis Island was to American immigrants: a snowbound customs house where the journey ends and the climbing begins. It all makes for excellent people watching.

And nobody gets more scrutiny then those attempting the North Buttress of Mount Hunter, a gleaming turret of ice and rock only two miles from basecamp.Through the National Park Service's high-powered spotting scope, you can sit back and watch a team's every move.

When Ben Gilmore, Max Turgeon and I arrived there two weeks ago, I immediately noticed a group of folks lurking around the scope and knew: somebody was up on the Moonflower.

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By Will Meinen

Growing up on a farm meant every spring the entire family would spend a day getting the garden ready for fruits and vegetables that would be ready to eat throughout the summer months. Back in those days we never talked about organic or sustainable. I guess it was just understood to be the smart thing to do.

When I moved to the city I was astounded at the poor quality and high prices I found at the grocery store, so I continue the family tradition and plant my own urban garden. It's not quite a big as the one on the farm, and it's been tricky dealing with the short growing season here in Calgary, but it still yields a great little crop and saves me a bunch of money.

If anyone else has ever thought of planting their own fruit and vegetable garden, I encourage you to try. It's quite easy to be honest. Here is my advice to anyone who wants to grow their own food.

Nature finds you in unexpected places. I often hike in Wildcat Canyon, a park close to Mountain Hardwear's offices. On Sunday, I went on a solitary hike and chose an unfamiliar shortcut. The path, a deer path that arched down into a drainage basin that sometimes holds vernal pools, was overgrown. Weeds and thistles obscured the horizon. A snake crossed the path, and then, later, small brown voles scurried for cover.

In that overgrown jungle, I came across a set of deer tracks. Here and there, the grasses had been tamped down, the weeds' thick stems broken by some large creature.

I heard a rustling by the path, and the tall grass started to quake. Coyotes live in Wildcat Canyon, and I hoped it wasn't a coyote.

By Cynthia Houng

In 1958, three English housewives went on a drive. Anne Davies, Eve Sims, and Antonia Deacock bought a Land Rover, and drove it all the way from London to Zanskar, then a part of Tibet.

The women drove 16,000 miles, and then traveled another 300 miles on foot. The entire expedition took 5 months. Along the way, the women met Jawaharlal Nehru, then the Prime Minister of India, climbed a virgin peak (now known as Wives' Peak), and crossed Afghanistan without an escort.

Ovaltine helped sponsor the trip. The company gave the women a small film camera, so they could capture footage for an Ovaltine television commercial. However, the women's footage was deemed "unusable," and Ovaltine filmed a substitute commercial in the studio. Fifty years after the expedition, Ovaltine has released film footage from the 1958 expedition, newly edited by filmmaker Martin Salter:

Ethan Pringle joined the Mountain Hardwear team in February. Rather than put words in his mouth, I'll just let Ethan introduce himself.

By Ethan Pringle

Born and raised in the Mission district of San Francisco, I was introduced to the wonders of nature before I could walk. My parents -- semi professional windsurfers and outdoor enthusiasts -- brought me everywhere. As an infant, I was in a backpack on hikes and on the back of my mom's bicycle on coastal rides. They took me on their adventure trips in the Sierras, on the wild California coast, and abroad. By the time I was five I'd been to Canada, Mexico, Australia and several Caribbean islands, places that most people don't get to visit in their entire lives. As a toddler, I scrambled over crags at Donner Pass and over rocky shores accessible only at low tide. I loved watching wildlife and enjoying the beauty of undeveloped land. My parents taught me to ski at age three. At six, I taught myself to snowboard on an oversize board and Sorrels - back then the sport was so new that child-sized equipment was unavailable. I became fond of being high off the ground, flying through the air over table-top jumps in Tahoe freestyle parks and even entered competitions - grommet division. At seven, I fell in love with Roller hockey. I played center on a championship team and was a complete 'rink' rat, spending every minute I could on my skates.

Then I discovered climbing. I first set foot in Mission Cliffs at age eight. Mission cliffs was and still is one of the premier climbing gyms in the country and happens to be only Four blocks from my home. We stopped in there out of curiosity on my way home from hockey practice. I was instantly hooked. To me climbing made perfect sense. I got my first pair of climbing shoes (5.10 Diamonds -- woman's shoes), and harness (Petzl Hirundos, pink). Soon afterward, climbing eclipsed everything else and Mission Cliffs became my second home. I still snowboarded, but my hockey skates got dusty and were forgotten.

By Nathan Friedman

I tiptoe my skis to the edge of the cornice, peering down to get a glimpse of what I'm about to drop in. As I look over the edge, our guide comes flying past with a quick "I'll see you down a ways" and launches the drop off the cornice. Three turns later and he flies around the corner and out of view hundreds of feet below us. I back up, gather some speed from the short approach, and drop off the cornice into a field full of snow with only a single track snaking down it.

By William Meinen

Classic Ice Climbs of the Rockies: Hydrophobia

It's usually around Thursday that I start to get squirrelly around the office and start making phone calls to find a partner to climb with for the weekend. My buddy Andy Gallant must have felt the same way because he called me before I had a chance to start my search through the Rolodex.

"Wanna try Hydro?"

"Let's do it!"

Hydrophobia is an ultra classic ice climb tucked in the Front Range mountains. The climb in and of itself is sheer and magnificent. A true marvel. The difficult access to the climb steps it up to a whole new level. 4x4 mandatory. Don't even bother trying it with anything less than 12" of clearance. A winch and tire chains are very helpful with the multiple river crossings and steep hill grades. With the climb and the access combined together it really becomes a unique adventure, hard to compare against anything else.

By Will Meinen

Last year while gearing up in the Yamnuska parking lot with Brandon Pullan, I noticed two older gentlemen who had just arrived in a sweet vintage Mercedes Benz sports coupe. As they got out and removed their alpine-coiled the ropes and circa '70 backpacks, I knew these gents had been around the block. Brandon was quick to inform me that it was none other then Andy Generoux and Urs Kallen. These were true legends in the Canadian Rockies, both with a huge list of significant first ascents.

Half a year later Brandon and I attended an Urs Kallen slideshow hosted by the Calgary chapter of the Alpine Club of Canada. Urs presented "The Bold and Cold 25"; his selection of his 'approved' alpine routes of the Canadian Rockies. Many of the routes were on my tick list. I talked with him after the show and soon he invited Brandon and me over for beers.

Several weeks ago Brandon and I headed over to his house with a case of cold brews. When Urs opened the door, he told us we could save our beers because he had a fridge full of fine imports already waiting for us. As soon as we stepped inside we each received two beers and headed into his 'climbers-only lounge'. As we headed up the stairs, he informed us he had not let many people in this section of his house. As the door opened it revealed a small room in his attic filled with archaic climbing gear, black and white photos of his climbing adventures and book shelves filled with enough climbing publications to fill a small library. Three chairs and a small round table sat at the end of the room. We all sat down and Urs Kallen told it like it was, over the course of our beers.

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By Cynthia Houng

How many times have I driven down 108 towards Yosemite, and passed straight through the Sierra foothills? Focused on the mountains, we've seldom stopped along the way. When we have stopped, we've stopped to climb. I don't know the foothills the way that I know the high country. Until recently, I've largely known the landscape as a series of picturesque vignettes, glimpsed through a moving car.

This year, we picked up a book on wildflower walks in the Sierra foothills, and decided to start exploring. One sunny afternoon, we stopped at Knights Ferry, to walk along the banks of the Stanislaus River. We picnicked near the visitor's center, and walked the historic covered bridge, before venturing into a wonderland of wildflowers.

Blue lupines covered the hills. There were bush lupines, four or five feet tall, and there were spider lupines, a small, delicate type with spider-like leaves. A pair of golden eagles circled the water before returning to roost on the cliff. Here and there, we found patches of baby-blue-eyes, California poppies, brodaia (a lily-like bulb with small blue flowers), wild geraniums, purple vetches, and yellow buttercups. In the far distance, dark rainclouds hovered over the Sierras--a late winter storm, gathering over Yosemite Valley.

By Cynthia Houng

From a distance, the trees appear draped with lace. White lace, spun by expert fingers, then looped over the almonds' grey branches in exuberant swags. Up close, it's not lace, but thousands of tiny, delicate white flowers. The almond trees are in full bloom, and the bees are here.

Look carefully, and you will see stacks of small white boxes, no larger than a banker's box. White, rectangular, they house the honeybees responsible for pollinating acres upon acres of almond trees. If the bees do their job, the almond farmers can look forward--provided that the weather cooperates--to a nice, healthy crop. If the bees fail, then hard times are in order.

Almonds are a major cash crop in California, and 120, the road to Yosemite, is lined with almond orchards. Around Oakdale, the landscape changes, and almond trees and processing plants begin to appear by the side of the road. A full 100% of San Joaquin Valley's almond crop relies upon honeybee pollination. In early spring, local hotels fill up with beekeepers, some traveling thousands of miles, coming from as far away as Florida. Some 2,200 tractor-trailer loads of bees arrive in the San Joaquin Valley during the almonds' bloom period. Anxious growers survey the bees--and reject those that they deem too weak to perform their task.

Bees are expensive. The Almond Board estimates that "bee rentals" comprise some 20% of a grower's annual expenses.

Most years, the pollination business is fraught with anxiety. Almond trees bloom early, towards the end of February and beginning of March. Spring rains and uncertain temperatures mean that the bees may or may not have enough time to complete their task before the almonds finish their bloom. Too much rain, too much cold, and the bees sit idle in their boxes.

This year, however, colony collapse disorder has thrown a new wrench into the delicate process.

Will hobbles around in PT

See More Pix of Will and his Injuries on Flickr.

By William Meinen

I sat down the other day and reflected on the past year. I was trying to come up with a 2008 resolution. I looked back and felt it wasn't as productive as it should have been. A broken metacarpal at the start of January kept me out of the winter mix for 2 months. A broken tibia in the spring left me hobbling around on crutches and forced me to forgo most of the summer rock season. Recently during an apres ski/stunt-gone-wrong I ended up with a broken calcaneus and a cast on the other leg, putting myself back on my arse for another solid stint of reading old climbing magazines and drinking stiff cocktails. All in all I was out a total of six months this year due to injuries.

My resolution for 2008 was clear. I will be attempting to get a year in without injuries or broken bones.

It seems easy enough. We'll see how it goes.

Anyways, I thought I would take a moment and discuss the lessons I learned about getting hurt, and some things to do to help get you back in the game as fast as possible.

Have we mentioned that we love reader submissions? This week, long-time reader Matt Keebler shares his enthusiasm for Bishop. We thought you might enjoy Matt's photographs and story, and hope that you, too, will be inspired to share your story.

By Matt Keebler

Bishop in winter means different things to different people. To climbers it means bouldering season! Bishop is most popular late in January or February when the temps start to get warmer, but my favorite week is Christmas week.

From Left to Right: Field Sparrow (Howard B. Eskin), Rufous Hummingbird (Howard B. Eskin), Northern Bobwhite (Ashok Khosla), Black-Throated Sparrow (Brad Fiero), Northern Pintail (Howard B. Eskin), and Boreal Chickadee (Jeremy Yancey).

By Cynthia Houng

This June, the Audubon Society released Common Birds in Decline, an alarming study detailing the precipitous decline of once-common North American bird species.

"These are not rare or exotic birds we're talking about--these are the birds that visit our feeders and congregate at nearby lakes and seashores and yet they are disappearing day by day," said Audubon Chairperson and former EPA Administrator, Carol Browner.

View More Photographs from Read's Tower.

By William Meinen

Very early in my climbing career, as I pulled myself atop of the Devil's Tower in Wyoming, I was forever changed. Everything seemed different. The clouds were bigger. My hands had more character. I opened the summit registry to sign my name in the book with the rest of those who made it to the top. On the first page Todd Skinner had written a small paragraph before he signed his name.

It read something like this: "As climbers we have been given a key and are searching for the door. We may not know were the door is, but we know that it opens inwards. The search for meaning is not worth dying for, but is worth risking dying. Somewhere within this balancing act the door begins to open."

View Andrew's Photographs from Previous Seasons on Flickr.

The First Day of the 2007/08 backcountry ski season in the Wasatch Mountains

By Andrew McLean

There is a lot riding on the first day of a new ski season. Technically, you could call sliding over sand, rocks or grass in the middle of summer a "first day," but realistically, the first day should be your best bet on when you can start reliably skiing day after day, week after week. The first day also serves as a gauge of the of the overall ski season, with an earlier start always being better. Late starts (like this year...and last year) mean you are pinning all hopes on a strong mid winter and spring, which can be demoralizing if they don't come through.

For me, the first day of the 2007/08 ski season in the Wasatch Mountains was yesterday, Dec 1st. I could have conceivably gone out earlier, but once I start skiing, that's all I want to do and the idea of starting and then getting shut down, even for a few days, is more than I can bear.

View More Photographs from Freddie's Trip to India.

Mountain Hardwear athlete Freddie Wilkinson traveled to the Jangpar Glacier, in India's Himal Pradesh, to climb the Glacier's "crown jewel, Peak 5960." Attracted to the peak's "clean lines and elegant symmetry," Freddie set off for India with fellow climbers Pat Goodman and Dave Sharratt.

"Every alpinist knows that fate will only deal him a few special summits in his career," Freddie wrote. "I had to go."

Read more about Freddie's recent trip to India on Climbing.com's Pro Blog.

By Willie Meinen

As I load up my pack, my partner and I don't say much. The wind howls, and the snow blows. It's 3am. The weight of the climb ahead leaves us with a sentiment that isn't worth talking about. Drifts of windswept snow blow across the inhospitable landscape and cover up the glacial till beneath. My boot prints leave the only signs of life, and soon the wind and snow remove my short lived imprint. I feel very alone. I turn off my headlamp and try to adjust to the dark. The stars in the heavens above prick through the inky black canvas. I feel very alone.

By Micah Dash

My good Jewish mother always wished I had become a doctor or a lawyer. To her great regret, I became a rock climber. All of the energy that I could have put into a professional career was completely flushed down the toilet and funneled into rock climbing. She of course blames it on my father. Needless to say, when I go home to visit I feel a bit socially retarded. It's as if my professional life has been severely underdeveloped.

This summer after an all-free ascent of El Capitan's 3,300 foot Freerider, VI 5.12d, 33 pitches, I found myself on the road headed to my mom's house for a few days of R&R and maybe even some homemade chicken soup. But first I stoped for a shower, shave and to do some laundry. Showing up at mom's house completely "disheveled," as she would say, is unacceptable especially at 30 years old. It's one thing to live out of my truck but it's another to look like it.