Here's a video of the avalanche yesterday taken from the site www.gulmargsnowsafety.com
check out that website for more in depth detail about the snow conditions
Sunday, January 31, 2010
An avalanche is nothing i want to be a part of
1/31/10
Gulmarg
Matt and I took a day trip to Srinagar the other day before the forecasted storm rolled in. According to Matt, this was the smoothest Srinagar trip he’s ever had. We shared a taxi down with James, who was on his way home. We wanted to find a certain houseboat we heard did a great job. These houseboats are more like floating motels. They are permanently moored and have no means of propulsion. Rows upon rows of these houseboats stretch for miles all floating on black, oil-slick water.
In order to get to the houseboats, we had to take a water taxi. This is basically a large canoe with a bed full of comfy pillows, positioned under a decorated roof.
It was apparent after a few minutes of rowing through the maze of floating houses that our taxi guy didn’t know where the houseboat we were looking for was. This was fine anyway because it was nice just being out on the still water, and the sun was beginning to poke through the clouds. 
We ended up talking to a different houseboat guy who invited us into his house. His living room was completely lined with intricate carpet and comfortable pillows. No furniture. We sat on the floor and drank some tea. I’m pretty sure this room was primarily used as an opium den. We talked about setting up a houseboat stay for sometime in the next month. 
After we left the lake, Matt and I picked up some alcohol and food at a westernized market. I found a whole wheel of fresh Kashmiri Gouda cheese and decided to splurge for the five dollars. I also bought red apples, apricot preserves, and toast to finish off the snack.
Driving in Srinagar is unbelievably risky. There are no rules. I’ve seen bad traffic in many places like China, Thailand, or the Philippines, but this place takes the cake. I would’ve felt better sitting in the front seat of this tiny, rice-burner if my seatbelt hadn’t been disconnected.
Right as we got back to Gulmarg, the snow started falling. Hard. This is the first snowfall Gulmarg has seen in three weeks, and it is much needed. The snow continued to fall that entire afternoon and into the night.
We awoke the next day to a blanket of white covering everything. It is amazing how quickly fresh snow can make a dirty place clean. The muddy road was now completely white. Our metal roof sheds large amounts of snow periodically and makes a deafening sound.
Since they were not going to open the upper gondola today, we decided to go up to the mid station and skin up into some trees for a few turns. As we skinned across safe, mostly flat terrain, it soon became apparent the type of danger that lie ahead. Every few steps on the fresh snow and we would collapse s weak layer of old snow underneath and loud cracks and groans would propagate sometimes 100-feet away from us. This is called “Whoomphing” and is very indicative of avalanche formation.
Then we heard the first avalanche. I didn’t seem to notice it at first because I just figured it was some jet airplane, but everyone around me froze when the loud rumble pounded the air. I couldn’t believe the immense power of this thing. It is frightening to think about what it takes to emit that loud of a noise through snow-choked air for almost a mile.
That was avalanche one of ten we heard that afternoon.
Skiing was out of the picture for today so we decided to do some snow safety exercises. First we dig a snow pit all the way down to bare ground (about 4 feet). We smoothed out one side vertically so we could see the entire snowpack. We prodded and probed the snow from top to bottom feeling for any changes in snow density. We soon found out we had the worst-case scenario. The old snow was full of facets (basically small, round ball bearing of ice) that precariously supported a sizeable amount of new, sticky snow on top. Matt very gently cut behind and on the side of the vertical wall and isolated a column of snow 1 x 3 ft on the surface. Then he very lightly rested the flat side of his shovel on the surface and placed his other hand right above the shovel. He bent his wrist and lifted his hand a couple inches up and let it drop. This was enough force to completely collapse the entire column of snow at the weak layer.
This is not good news.
The ski patrol (two American guys) says this is the worst avalanche conditions they have ever seen here, and possibly even ever. The danger is real.
The next day we got up early and waited to be first in line for the upper stage of the gondola to open after ski patrol was finished bombing for avalanches. Since we are so close to Pakistan, the ski patrol here at Gulmarg isn’t allowed to store any explosives, or set up cannons to launch explosives. So whenever there is a need to bomb the slopes, ski patrol must order some plastic explosives fro the army base and then the military must oversee the entire process. Things move slowly. It’s India, get used to it.
The weather was incredible. Clear blue sky surrounded the completely white mountain. We waited up at the mid station while ski patrol went up to check the stability of the snow and set off some avalanches. The scene at the mid station looked something like spring break at whistler. Some people were taking their shirts off and tanning in the sun, snowball fights erupted here and there, I enjoyed sitting down in a chair and letting the sun hit my face for the first time in a few weeks. After a few hours we started to get bored and antsy to carve 2,500 vertical foot lines down fresh powder. We were sticking in bounds today, trying to ski anything that wasn’t bombed would be incredibly foolish, and would most likely result in a death.
A thick cloud had obscured the view of the top of the mountain.
BOOM! Finally, we heard a bomb go off. Out of the bottom of the cloud emerged a sight I will never forget. A pulsing cloud accelerating out of control emerged below the cloud line. It was easily 100 feet tall and growing bigger. It looked like a dam had burst and white water was shooting out at an unbelievable rate. A low rumble filled the air, but it was nowhere near as loud as the ones we heard yesterday. The avalanche continued to rage down the gully of the in-bounds terrain, ripping out other smaller avalanches from either side as it approached the man made avalanche dam below. Just a few days earlier I had been in the depths of this dam, which is basically a earth wall thirty-feet tall and a few hundred feet long, running down slope and curving to the left. It is meant to divert an avalanche away from the gondola station a few hundred yards away. I remember thinking this thing could hold back any avalanche.
As the avalanche disappeared below the horizon of the dam, I thought it was all over. Wrong. The avalanche had enough momentum to climb up that vertical wall and spray plumes of snow and ice fifteen-feet into the air. It was very much like a wave slamming against and overwhelming a break wall. A man standing in front of me yelped and just ran towards the rear of the gondola building. I’m not gonna lie, I considered doing the same even though other people were laughing at this guy’s cowardly move.
This was either a class 3 or 4 avalanche, which is categorized as being powerful enough to derail a train or knock a building off its foundation. There would be no survival in something like this. You wouldn’t even feel a thing.
After the cloud settled, we could see the top of the mountain again. The main avalanche was hundreds of yards wide, traveling over entire ridges, and the crown (slab thickness) was up to ten-feet in some places. The avalanche was so big it also caused other avalanches (called sympathetic avalanches) on the adjacent hillsides.
It was definitely a scary and incredible force to witness. This makes falling on a wave at Jaws seem like nothing. At least you’d have a chance of surviving that.
Full Moon and snowscape right outside our hotel
Gulmarg
Matt and I took a day trip to Srinagar the other day before the forecasted storm rolled in. According to Matt, this was the smoothest Srinagar trip he’s ever had. We shared a taxi down with James, who was on his way home. We wanted to find a certain houseboat we heard did a great job. These houseboats are more like floating motels. They are permanently moored and have no means of propulsion. Rows upon rows of these houseboats stretch for miles all floating on black, oil-slick water.
In order to get to the houseboats, we had to take a water taxi. This is basically a large canoe with a bed full of comfy pillows, positioned under a decorated roof.
It was apparent after a few minutes of rowing through the maze of floating houses that our taxi guy didn’t know where the houseboat we were looking for was. This was fine anyway because it was nice just being out on the still water, and the sun was beginning to poke through the clouds. 
We ended up talking to a different houseboat guy who invited us into his house. His living room was completely lined with intricate carpet and comfortable pillows. No furniture. We sat on the floor and drank some tea. I’m pretty sure this room was primarily used as an opium den. We talked about setting up a houseboat stay for sometime in the next month. 
After we left the lake, Matt and I picked up some alcohol and food at a westernized market. I found a whole wheel of fresh Kashmiri Gouda cheese and decided to splurge for the five dollars. I also bought red apples, apricot preserves, and toast to finish off the snack.
Driving in Srinagar is unbelievably risky. There are no rules. I’ve seen bad traffic in many places like China, Thailand, or the Philippines, but this place takes the cake. I would’ve felt better sitting in the front seat of this tiny, rice-burner if my seatbelt hadn’t been disconnected.
Right as we got back to Gulmarg, the snow started falling. Hard. This is the first snowfall Gulmarg has seen in three weeks, and it is much needed. The snow continued to fall that entire afternoon and into the night.
We awoke the next day to a blanket of white covering everything. It is amazing how quickly fresh snow can make a dirty place clean. The muddy road was now completely white. Our metal roof sheds large amounts of snow periodically and makes a deafening sound.
Since they were not going to open the upper gondola today, we decided to go up to the mid station and skin up into some trees for a few turns. As we skinned across safe, mostly flat terrain, it soon became apparent the type of danger that lie ahead. Every few steps on the fresh snow and we would collapse s weak layer of old snow underneath and loud cracks and groans would propagate sometimes 100-feet away from us. This is called “Whoomphing” and is very indicative of avalanche formation.
Then we heard the first avalanche. I didn’t seem to notice it at first because I just figured it was some jet airplane, but everyone around me froze when the loud rumble pounded the air. I couldn’t believe the immense power of this thing. It is frightening to think about what it takes to emit that loud of a noise through snow-choked air for almost a mile.
That was avalanche one of ten we heard that afternoon.
Skiing was out of the picture for today so we decided to do some snow safety exercises. First we dig a snow pit all the way down to bare ground (about 4 feet). We smoothed out one side vertically so we could see the entire snowpack. We prodded and probed the snow from top to bottom feeling for any changes in snow density. We soon found out we had the worst-case scenario. The old snow was full of facets (basically small, round ball bearing of ice) that precariously supported a sizeable amount of new, sticky snow on top. Matt very gently cut behind and on the side of the vertical wall and isolated a column of snow 1 x 3 ft on the surface. Then he very lightly rested the flat side of his shovel on the surface and placed his other hand right above the shovel. He bent his wrist and lifted his hand a couple inches up and let it drop. This was enough force to completely collapse the entire column of snow at the weak layer.
This is not good news.
The ski patrol (two American guys) says this is the worst avalanche conditions they have ever seen here, and possibly even ever. The danger is real.
The next day we got up early and waited to be first in line for the upper stage of the gondola to open after ski patrol was finished bombing for avalanches. Since we are so close to Pakistan, the ski patrol here at Gulmarg isn’t allowed to store any explosives, or set up cannons to launch explosives. So whenever there is a need to bomb the slopes, ski patrol must order some plastic explosives fro the army base and then the military must oversee the entire process. Things move slowly. It’s India, get used to it.
The weather was incredible. Clear blue sky surrounded the completely white mountain. We waited up at the mid station while ski patrol went up to check the stability of the snow and set off some avalanches. The scene at the mid station looked something like spring break at whistler. Some people were taking their shirts off and tanning in the sun, snowball fights erupted here and there, I enjoyed sitting down in a chair and letting the sun hit my face for the first time in a few weeks. After a few hours we started to get bored and antsy to carve 2,500 vertical foot lines down fresh powder. We were sticking in bounds today, trying to ski anything that wasn’t bombed would be incredibly foolish, and would most likely result in a death.
A thick cloud had obscured the view of the top of the mountain.
BOOM! Finally, we heard a bomb go off. Out of the bottom of the cloud emerged a sight I will never forget. A pulsing cloud accelerating out of control emerged below the cloud line. It was easily 100 feet tall and growing bigger. It looked like a dam had burst and white water was shooting out at an unbelievable rate. A low rumble filled the air, but it was nowhere near as loud as the ones we heard yesterday. The avalanche continued to rage down the gully of the in-bounds terrain, ripping out other smaller avalanches from either side as it approached the man made avalanche dam below. Just a few days earlier I had been in the depths of this dam, which is basically a earth wall thirty-feet tall and a few hundred feet long, running down slope and curving to the left. It is meant to divert an avalanche away from the gondola station a few hundred yards away. I remember thinking this thing could hold back any avalanche.
As the avalanche disappeared below the horizon of the dam, I thought it was all over. Wrong. The avalanche had enough momentum to climb up that vertical wall and spray plumes of snow and ice fifteen-feet into the air. It was very much like a wave slamming against and overwhelming a break wall. A man standing in front of me yelped and just ran towards the rear of the gondola building. I’m not gonna lie, I considered doing the same even though other people were laughing at this guy’s cowardly move.
This was either a class 3 or 4 avalanche, which is categorized as being powerful enough to derail a train or knock a building off its foundation. There would be no survival in something like this. You wouldn’t even feel a thing.
After the cloud settled, we could see the top of the mountain again. The main avalanche was hundreds of yards wide, traveling over entire ridges, and the crown (slab thickness) was up to ten-feet in some places. The avalanche was so big it also caused other avalanches (called sympathetic avalanches) on the adjacent hillsides.
It was definitely a scary and incredible force to witness. This makes falling on a wave at Jaws seem like nothing. At least you’d have a chance of surviving that.
Full Moon and snowscape right outside our hotel
Life in Gulmarg
1/29/10
Gulmarg
Many of you are probably curious about the town of Gulmarg and my living conditions. Gulmarg is a cup-shaped plateau about 1 square mile in size. It sits at the base of the mountain, which towers 4,000 feet above. As the sun rises, the mountain face catches its rays and holds direct sunlight until around 3:00 pm when the sun is obscured by the main ridge. The town below is separated into three areas. My hotel is located right near the base of the gondola. There are maybe half a dozen hotel buildings somewhat nearby. “Town” is a fifteen-minute walk down the road covered in ice and crazy, honking cars that will run you off the road.
Ok, I need to vent a little about the drivers here… I’ll be walking on the side of the road with plenty of room for the car to pass. I’ll even make a very visual move to the side, as if to say to the driver, I see you coming, but I’ll keep walking. But no, the driver always insists on laying on the horn starting from a hundred yards away and continues to blast his horn (yes, his. Women don’t drive here at all) until he has passed by be. So now, when they honk I just wave really hard and jump up and down, smiling. This seems to confuse them a little. Good.
So in town there are another half-dozen seedy hotels scattered amidst some shops and restaurants that keep very loose hours. Most hotels have a restaurant underneath, and we’ve eaten at the majority of them so far. Buying alcohol here is a very interesting process. Being a predominantly Muslim nation, Kashmir looks down on alcohol like it were a deadly sin. It is rare to find places that sell alcohol, and I’ve been told they are a hot spot for terrorists to hit first. Gulmarg has had enough western influence that they have a little more encompassing views. So some man has started selling liquor out of the side of his house. The first time I went to buy some beer, it was at night. Wes and I walked behind some restaurants. The slick mud was starting to freeze and make a crust on the surface. Then we came across a three-foot wall that we had to jump off onto the ice below. There are no streetlights back here. This seemed like a place to buy a lot more than just some beer. A small, flickering light illuminates a caged window. Behind the cage there is a man standing there surrounded by various beers and spirits. The transaction takes place through a little hole cut into the cage. He made an exception for us when we ordered an entire case of beer, and opened a small door to the right so he could fit the case out.
I am staying in a very interesting place called the Hotel Green Heights. It cost about $20 a night for a room. It’s a little more than I wanted to spend so that’s why I am rooming with Sam and Alan at the moment. The staff here is always a source of amusement. Down in the restaurant-lobby-media room there is always a minimum of five workers sitting around the wood stove, sipping tea, and warming their hands. These are the higher-ups. Indians love their promotions. One of these guys, a clean-shaven man in this thirties wearing ear muffs, always stands up when we enter in case we want to order food.
Of an estimated seven or so men who work here, really only about three actually do the work. Abzel is the main go-to guy. He’s got yellow teeth sticking about of his large gums, and is always wearing a smile. He often just walks into our room and stands there for a while. At first this was a bit strange, but now we’re just used to it. Sometimes we entertain him for a while, but sometimes if we’re just chilling he’ll eventually just leave. I’m pretty sure he’s an alcoholic. Maybe it’s because he’ll point to our small booze supply with such yearning eyes, or maybe it’s the fact that he’ll finish off any old stale beer left over from the night before in a single, satisfying gulp at 9 am. Abzel has worn the same thing since I got here: jeans, a sweatshirt that looks like it is straight fro the 80’s, and a blue vest.
Jar Jar is the other main worker. He must be one level above Abzel, because he is always yelling for Abzel and barking him orders. If the bacari is getting cold, these guys will bring up more wood and stoke the fire. If the water tank is running low in the bathroom, these guys will haul a big hose in and fill it up. That’s pretty much all we need to ask them for. Both men are in their fifties and are very interesting characters. Jar Jar is no taller than 5’4”, and wears the typical knee-length robe. He’s got a long, white-grey beard and wears a much-too-small, pointed beanie cap that makes him look a bit like a garden gnome.
The hotel itself is anything but safe. I’m quite surprised this place hasn’t burned down in its thirty years of operation. Besides having a non-insulated wood stove burning in the middle of the room, which constantly spills red-hot coals onto the carpet, the electrical wiring is enough for any fire code inspector to cringe. Lately we’ve been smelling a burning plastic small at night and we are pretty sure its something electrical being overloaded.
When the electricity is down in Gulmarg, the hotel uses a diesel generator located on the first floor. Inside. No exhaust pipe running outside. When the generator is on, it smells like someone has been running a lawn mower right in the hallway. We have tried to tell them to not use the generator, we can use candles (another huge fire hazard), but they insist on the generator.
The walls and ceiling are made of three-inch wide tongue and groove wood that have been shellacked the color of maple syrup. Smoke from the bacari has stained much of the ceiling black.
The bathrooms have no running water. You just fill up a bucket and pour it in the toilet to flush. Showers consist of a bucket bath on the bathroom floor. Today I hand-washed some clothes. It’s not uncomfortable living here and I actually enjoy it most the time, but there are some who would absolutely hate this place.
Gulmarg
Many of you are probably curious about the town of Gulmarg and my living conditions. Gulmarg is a cup-shaped plateau about 1 square mile in size. It sits at the base of the mountain, which towers 4,000 feet above. As the sun rises, the mountain face catches its rays and holds direct sunlight until around 3:00 pm when the sun is obscured by the main ridge. The town below is separated into three areas. My hotel is located right near the base of the gondola. There are maybe half a dozen hotel buildings somewhat nearby. “Town” is a fifteen-minute walk down the road covered in ice and crazy, honking cars that will run you off the road.
Ok, I need to vent a little about the drivers here… I’ll be walking on the side of the road with plenty of room for the car to pass. I’ll even make a very visual move to the side, as if to say to the driver, I see you coming, but I’ll keep walking. But no, the driver always insists on laying on the horn starting from a hundred yards away and continues to blast his horn (yes, his. Women don’t drive here at all) until he has passed by be. So now, when they honk I just wave really hard and jump up and down, smiling. This seems to confuse them a little. Good.
So in town there are another half-dozen seedy hotels scattered amidst some shops and restaurants that keep very loose hours. Most hotels have a restaurant underneath, and we’ve eaten at the majority of them so far. Buying alcohol here is a very interesting process. Being a predominantly Muslim nation, Kashmir looks down on alcohol like it were a deadly sin. It is rare to find places that sell alcohol, and I’ve been told they are a hot spot for terrorists to hit first. Gulmarg has had enough western influence that they have a little more encompassing views. So some man has started selling liquor out of the side of his house. The first time I went to buy some beer, it was at night. Wes and I walked behind some restaurants. The slick mud was starting to freeze and make a crust on the surface. Then we came across a three-foot wall that we had to jump off onto the ice below. There are no streetlights back here. This seemed like a place to buy a lot more than just some beer. A small, flickering light illuminates a caged window. Behind the cage there is a man standing there surrounded by various beers and spirits. The transaction takes place through a little hole cut into the cage. He made an exception for us when we ordered an entire case of beer, and opened a small door to the right so he could fit the case out.
I am staying in a very interesting place called the Hotel Green Heights. It cost about $20 a night for a room. It’s a little more than I wanted to spend so that’s why I am rooming with Sam and Alan at the moment. The staff here is always a source of amusement. Down in the restaurant-lobby-media room there is always a minimum of five workers sitting around the wood stove, sipping tea, and warming their hands. These are the higher-ups. Indians love their promotions. One of these guys, a clean-shaven man in this thirties wearing ear muffs, always stands up when we enter in case we want to order food.
Of an estimated seven or so men who work here, really only about three actually do the work. Abzel is the main go-to guy. He’s got yellow teeth sticking about of his large gums, and is always wearing a smile. He often just walks into our room and stands there for a while. At first this was a bit strange, but now we’re just used to it. Sometimes we entertain him for a while, but sometimes if we’re just chilling he’ll eventually just leave. I’m pretty sure he’s an alcoholic. Maybe it’s because he’ll point to our small booze supply with such yearning eyes, or maybe it’s the fact that he’ll finish off any old stale beer left over from the night before in a single, satisfying gulp at 9 am. Abzel has worn the same thing since I got here: jeans, a sweatshirt that looks like it is straight fro the 80’s, and a blue vest.
Jar Jar is the other main worker. He must be one level above Abzel, because he is always yelling for Abzel and barking him orders. If the bacari is getting cold, these guys will bring up more wood and stoke the fire. If the water tank is running low in the bathroom, these guys will haul a big hose in and fill it up. That’s pretty much all we need to ask them for. Both men are in their fifties and are very interesting characters. Jar Jar is no taller than 5’4”, and wears the typical knee-length robe. He’s got a long, white-grey beard and wears a much-too-small, pointed beanie cap that makes him look a bit like a garden gnome.
The hotel itself is anything but safe. I’m quite surprised this place hasn’t burned down in its thirty years of operation. Besides having a non-insulated wood stove burning in the middle of the room, which constantly spills red-hot coals onto the carpet, the electrical wiring is enough for any fire code inspector to cringe. Lately we’ve been smelling a burning plastic small at night and we are pretty sure its something electrical being overloaded.
When the electricity is down in Gulmarg, the hotel uses a diesel generator located on the first floor. Inside. No exhaust pipe running outside. When the generator is on, it smells like someone has been running a lawn mower right in the hallway. We have tried to tell them to not use the generator, we can use candles (another huge fire hazard), but they insist on the generator.
The walls and ceiling are made of three-inch wide tongue and groove wood that have been shellacked the color of maple syrup. Smoke from the bacari has stained much of the ceiling black.
The bathrooms have no running water. You just fill up a bucket and pour it in the toilet to flush. Showers consist of a bucket bath on the bathroom floor. Today I hand-washed some clothes. It’s not uncomfortable living here and I actually enjoy it most the time, but there are some who would absolutely hate this place.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
I came to India for a whole new experience... and I definitely got one
1/26/10
Gulmarg
Today we got an early start and were on top the mountain before 10 am. The group split up because people had different agendas.
Alan, Sam, and James decided to just make gondola runs while Matt, Wes, Amet and I took to the backside. A bit of new snow has fallen over the last couple days and actually has covered some of the smaller rocks dotting the main ridge. We soon came along a 700 vertical foot untouched run. I stayed on top to take pictures while the three skiers dropped. Matt went first, and laid down a sweet line, staying high on the ridge and carving around large rocks. Amet dropped lower and made a quicker decent. Wes, split the difference and just jumped over the rocks.
Then I hiked over and dropped in. This was the first run that made me glad I bought this board. It wasn’t perfect powder by any means. There was some serious crust underneath three to eight inches of powder, but it was all soft and uniform snow. By board is a directional board and much longer than what I am used to. My stance is far back on the board and is perfect for long, powerful carves down steep and deep snow. The thing rides more like a surfboard, with a lot of back foot control.
Six turns later, and I’m at the bottom looking back up at the steep ridge we now have to climb up. It’s called “boot packing”. I strap my snowboard to my backpack and get out my ski poles to help with the hike up. The slope is between 30-40 degrees and mostly bare ground with patches of crusty, sun-backed snow. This is hard work. Hard work doesn’t describe it. This is insane. I have to stop every few minutes to catch my breath and admire the immense mountain range rising up behind us. My backpack and snowboard weigh close to 30 lbs and is awkwardly top-heavy. A couple of times I stood up too tall and about lost my balance. That could easily turn into a deadly mistake, as it is nearly impossible to stop your momentum if you were to start falling. I try not to think about it.
We get to the top and it’s early afternoon. Matt takes us farther down the main ridge to some bowls that supposedly drop us off at a different village where we can rent a car to get back to Gulmarg. Apparently He’s done this run before and has been told that you can ski all the way down to Grang, where we could hire a taxi.
At first we drop into an incredible powder bowl. By far the best snow we have seen yet. It’s fresh powder about 18 inches thick. My board just floats effortlessly on top and takes on a mind of its own as it guides me through long, hand-dragging turns. Pure bliss. This is what I came here for.
The snow is very loose and sloughs quite easily. Slough is a type of avalanche that starts as the loose snow you release and accelerates down the mountain usually picking up more and more snow. It isn’t as dangerous as a full on slab avalanche and most likely will not bury you, but it can knock you over and make you loose your footing, which could be devastating if you are perched above a cliff or rocks. So we took our time, dropping one by one and always ending up in safe zones.
For some reason I started to feel tense and felt that something ominous was about to happen. I could see it in Matt and Wes. They started to act serious and Matt was getting on edge to any questions I would ask. The snow pack was quickly deteriorating and was forcing us off the ridges and into the middle of the drainage for the valley; somewhere you don’t want to be if an avalanche were to happen anywhere in the whole valley because it would get funneled and concentrated right down upon us. The snow was very chunky and hard packed with an increasing amount of rocks poking through as we decreased elevation. The valley also narrowed and soon it was only a few yards wide. There were no more options.
The first cliff I came to was not very big, maybe four feet tall, but right below it was about a fifteen-foot drop onto rocks and ice. I jumped off the first and immediately had to stop. I fell back on my wrist and was certain I had broken it, but adrenaline was pumping so I didn’t notice the pain. From here I slowly traversed using my hands along a super narrow rock ledge, trying not to look behind me. It wouldn’t be a deadly drop, but I could easily break bones and we were a long way from any kind of civilization. I make it to a tiny chute with a bunch of bushes sticking through. I do a jump turn and slide down the chute. Matt has gone ahead and I see he has stopped above what looks like another cliff. He turns back and yells, “This looks sketchy!” There are no options except to continue down. Steep cliffs rise on either side of us. I get closer and see a six-foot drop to a patch of snow/ice about the size of a large mattress, sitting above a fifteen-foot drop. The landing is actually slopped back towards the cliff as the underside has started to melt out some distance below the surface.
Matt has sidestepped up higher to a super narrow, near vertical chute littered with rocks and sticks. He is able to make it down. He said it would not be possible to do on a snowboard. Wes has decided to jump down the cliff sections. It’s called an acid drop and is basically extending one leg sideways over the cliff then jumping down and hopefully stopping where you land. He somehow makes it down unscathed. Amet has taken his skis off above me and traversed over to the side and is trying to climb down. This is no longer fun. A brisk wind carrying snow has all of a sudden decided to blow straight down the ravine. Is it a malicious wind mocking me; making me jealous at it’s ease to descend the danger below? Or, is it a helping wind; encouraging me to make it down this?
I need to make a move.
I am used to taking my board off and strapping it to my pack on relatively flat ground. Now, here I am perched on a steep, hard slope above a 25-foot drop of rock and ice, and I have to take off my pack, turn it over, take off my board, dig a toe-hold in the snow, strap my board to my pack, take out my ski poles and extend them, put my awkward pack back on, and start to follow Amet’s path and climb down. He has only made it maybe five feet down and things look pretty difficult. A thin snow layer is clinging to the near vertical slope; beneath it small, smooth rocks and grass- nothing incredibly encouraging to get a grip on. Snowboard boots are notoriously difficult to kick into snow and get a footing. Mine are no exception. My heart is racing as I turn towards the hill and try my hardest in that instant to make my world smaller, focusing on only what is near my hands and feet.
This is impossible. I am stuck. Any slip and I would quickly be bouncing down over rocks, probably flipping end-over-end, and possibly landing on the flat ground in a way to seriously hurt me or worse.
I decide that Amet’s way is not possible as his toeholds have been ripped out due to my much larger boot. I climb back up to the middle of the ravine above the icefall and can’t help but notice (due to immediate relief) my newfound confidence of standing on such a degree of slope that would have scarred me earlier that day.
I don’t know what to do. I am running through different scenarios, part of me just wants to throw by board down and jump over, just to get done with the inevitable. Maybe I won’t get too hurt. Then I realize it is a very long way to any form of civilization from here and I can’t afford to add an injured person to the group. We would have to spend the night somewhere. Or maybe a helicopter would come and rescue me. Hah! Yeah right.
I need to climb.
Literally holding onto grass poking through the ice, and using all my strength to shift my weight from one limb to another as I cling on to the tinniest of things, I slowly start to descend. Amet has made it down and tells me to move only one thing at a time. Digging a toehold gives me very little confidence because I don’t know if it will hold my entire weight until I completely step on it. I tried to pull back and keep calm and started to guide myself down. Right foot first- extend over and kick. Dig your toe in; give it a little weight to see if it’ll hold. Move your right hand, grab that bit of grass hanging down right there. Now move your left hand to where your right had was, dig your arm into that ice hole. Ok, now move your left foot to where your right just was.
A couple of times my footing broke loose and I somehow managed to catch myself, feet dangling in the air.
Half the way down I reminded myself that I needed to laugh. This is India; you must laugh when you are stuck in situations that are seemingly out of your control. It is a nervous laugh, and I notice a couple of tears roll out as I release a bit of emotion. If I die now, it’s better that I’m at least laughing than cursing.
After what seemed like an hour, my feet touch the flat bottom. I am so relieved. I am not hurt. A quick thanks to God.
But we are not out of trouble yet. There is now very difficult traversing along a steep, patchy rock pile directly above a running river. The snow is incredibly deep and sticky due to the warm temperatures. I am exhausted. My calves are on fire and I cannot catch my breath. Wes skis behind me to make sure nothing happens.
We eventually run out of snow. Now time to bootpack once again. We follow some footsteps made from some other unlucky group who had been in our same situation. We need to cross the river. 50-foot cliffs line the river in some places and the water is moving pretty good. We walk up and down and across for about an hour. We come to a place where that is pretty flat and covered in soft snow that gives way to holes below. It looks too flat to snowboard. Time to ski. Split my board in half, attach my bindings to the telemark pins on either plank, and strap in. this might be the hardest part of the day. After a little while the slope steepens and I am able to switch back to the snowboard. Now this is fun again. We ride along for some time in a single file line and eventually come across an army base. We get questioned lightly at the army base and they let us though. We ask them how far to Tangmarg (place to get a taxi), and they say about an hour.
We could walk all night and I wouldn’t care as much. We were on flat ground and there was no immediate danger of falling. The walk was actually very nice, taking us down the river valley with great views back up at the mountain we had just scampered down. We entered thick forest for a little while, and it was hard to imagine this was India and not somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. A couple of hours pass and we are nowhere near Tangmarg. We are now completely exhausted from walking and hiking, the sun has set and it is getting dark. Quickly.
I think I hear a car, but it cannot be. There is nothing near us. I hear it again- closer. Then around the next turn comes a little minivan. Matt moves to the side of the road but I stop right in the middle with my arms out. There is no way this car will leave without giving us a ride where we need. Everyone has a price. The good news for being a foreigner is that this price is relatively cheap. I ask the guys if they’ll give us a ride for 400 rupees (about $10). They agreed. All four of us pile into this little automobile. We were soon relieved as it was still over a mile to the town of Tangmarg. It is now pitch black. We find another taxi to take us up to Gulmarg and to the relief of Sam and Alan, arrive back at the hotel around 7pm. People were getting worried for us and were even thinking about heading a search party for the morning. There is literally nothing you can do on such a large mountain without daylight. We agree upon some safety considerations such as first aid, and search/rescue plans for possible situations.
Today was an experience all right, and a bit sobering too. Looking back we learned a few things and gained a greater respect for this mountain and how quickly it can swallow you if you don’t respect its danger. Last year a girl came to our same hotel and went up for a quick ride very close to our hotel. Her body was found the next spring.
I think I’ll take tomorrow off from snowboarding and explore the town. Snow is on the way.
Gulmarg
Today we got an early start and were on top the mountain before 10 am. The group split up because people had different agendas.
Alan, Sam, and James decided to just make gondola runs while Matt, Wes, Amet and I took to the backside. A bit of new snow has fallen over the last couple days and actually has covered some of the smaller rocks dotting the main ridge. We soon came along a 700 vertical foot untouched run. I stayed on top to take pictures while the three skiers dropped. Matt went first, and laid down a sweet line, staying high on the ridge and carving around large rocks. Amet dropped lower and made a quicker decent. Wes, split the difference and just jumped over the rocks.
Then I hiked over and dropped in. This was the first run that made me glad I bought this board. It wasn’t perfect powder by any means. There was some serious crust underneath three to eight inches of powder, but it was all soft and uniform snow. By board is a directional board and much longer than what I am used to. My stance is far back on the board and is perfect for long, powerful carves down steep and deep snow. The thing rides more like a surfboard, with a lot of back foot control.
Six turns later, and I’m at the bottom looking back up at the steep ridge we now have to climb up. It’s called “boot packing”. I strap my snowboard to my backpack and get out my ski poles to help with the hike up. The slope is between 30-40 degrees and mostly bare ground with patches of crusty, sun-backed snow. This is hard work. Hard work doesn’t describe it. This is insane. I have to stop every few minutes to catch my breath and admire the immense mountain range rising up behind us. My backpack and snowboard weigh close to 30 lbs and is awkwardly top-heavy. A couple of times I stood up too tall and about lost my balance. That could easily turn into a deadly mistake, as it is nearly impossible to stop your momentum if you were to start falling. I try not to think about it.
We get to the top and it’s early afternoon. Matt takes us farther down the main ridge to some bowls that supposedly drop us off at a different village where we can rent a car to get back to Gulmarg. Apparently He’s done this run before and has been told that you can ski all the way down to Grang, where we could hire a taxi.
At first we drop into an incredible powder bowl. By far the best snow we have seen yet. It’s fresh powder about 18 inches thick. My board just floats effortlessly on top and takes on a mind of its own as it guides me through long, hand-dragging turns. Pure bliss. This is what I came here for.
The snow is very loose and sloughs quite easily. Slough is a type of avalanche that starts as the loose snow you release and accelerates down the mountain usually picking up more and more snow. It isn’t as dangerous as a full on slab avalanche and most likely will not bury you, but it can knock you over and make you loose your footing, which could be devastating if you are perched above a cliff or rocks. So we took our time, dropping one by one and always ending up in safe zones.
For some reason I started to feel tense and felt that something ominous was about to happen. I could see it in Matt and Wes. They started to act serious and Matt was getting on edge to any questions I would ask. The snow pack was quickly deteriorating and was forcing us off the ridges and into the middle of the drainage for the valley; somewhere you don’t want to be if an avalanche were to happen anywhere in the whole valley because it would get funneled and concentrated right down upon us. The snow was very chunky and hard packed with an increasing amount of rocks poking through as we decreased elevation. The valley also narrowed and soon it was only a few yards wide. There were no more options.
The first cliff I came to was not very big, maybe four feet tall, but right below it was about a fifteen-foot drop onto rocks and ice. I jumped off the first and immediately had to stop. I fell back on my wrist and was certain I had broken it, but adrenaline was pumping so I didn’t notice the pain. From here I slowly traversed using my hands along a super narrow rock ledge, trying not to look behind me. It wouldn’t be a deadly drop, but I could easily break bones and we were a long way from any kind of civilization. I make it to a tiny chute with a bunch of bushes sticking through. I do a jump turn and slide down the chute. Matt has gone ahead and I see he has stopped above what looks like another cliff. He turns back and yells, “This looks sketchy!” There are no options except to continue down. Steep cliffs rise on either side of us. I get closer and see a six-foot drop to a patch of snow/ice about the size of a large mattress, sitting above a fifteen-foot drop. The landing is actually slopped back towards the cliff as the underside has started to melt out some distance below the surface.
Matt has sidestepped up higher to a super narrow, near vertical chute littered with rocks and sticks. He is able to make it down. He said it would not be possible to do on a snowboard. Wes has decided to jump down the cliff sections. It’s called an acid drop and is basically extending one leg sideways over the cliff then jumping down and hopefully stopping where you land. He somehow makes it down unscathed. Amet has taken his skis off above me and traversed over to the side and is trying to climb down. This is no longer fun. A brisk wind carrying snow has all of a sudden decided to blow straight down the ravine. Is it a malicious wind mocking me; making me jealous at it’s ease to descend the danger below? Or, is it a helping wind; encouraging me to make it down this?
I need to make a move.
I am used to taking my board off and strapping it to my pack on relatively flat ground. Now, here I am perched on a steep, hard slope above a 25-foot drop of rock and ice, and I have to take off my pack, turn it over, take off my board, dig a toe-hold in the snow, strap my board to my pack, take out my ski poles and extend them, put my awkward pack back on, and start to follow Amet’s path and climb down. He has only made it maybe five feet down and things look pretty difficult. A thin snow layer is clinging to the near vertical slope; beneath it small, smooth rocks and grass- nothing incredibly encouraging to get a grip on. Snowboard boots are notoriously difficult to kick into snow and get a footing. Mine are no exception. My heart is racing as I turn towards the hill and try my hardest in that instant to make my world smaller, focusing on only what is near my hands and feet.
This is impossible. I am stuck. Any slip and I would quickly be bouncing down over rocks, probably flipping end-over-end, and possibly landing on the flat ground in a way to seriously hurt me or worse.
I decide that Amet’s way is not possible as his toeholds have been ripped out due to my much larger boot. I climb back up to the middle of the ravine above the icefall and can’t help but notice (due to immediate relief) my newfound confidence of standing on such a degree of slope that would have scarred me earlier that day.
I don’t know what to do. I am running through different scenarios, part of me just wants to throw by board down and jump over, just to get done with the inevitable. Maybe I won’t get too hurt. Then I realize it is a very long way to any form of civilization from here and I can’t afford to add an injured person to the group. We would have to spend the night somewhere. Or maybe a helicopter would come and rescue me. Hah! Yeah right.
I need to climb.
Literally holding onto grass poking through the ice, and using all my strength to shift my weight from one limb to another as I cling on to the tinniest of things, I slowly start to descend. Amet has made it down and tells me to move only one thing at a time. Digging a toehold gives me very little confidence because I don’t know if it will hold my entire weight until I completely step on it. I tried to pull back and keep calm and started to guide myself down. Right foot first- extend over and kick. Dig your toe in; give it a little weight to see if it’ll hold. Move your right hand, grab that bit of grass hanging down right there. Now move your left hand to where your right had was, dig your arm into that ice hole. Ok, now move your left foot to where your right just was.
A couple of times my footing broke loose and I somehow managed to catch myself, feet dangling in the air.
Half the way down I reminded myself that I needed to laugh. This is India; you must laugh when you are stuck in situations that are seemingly out of your control. It is a nervous laugh, and I notice a couple of tears roll out as I release a bit of emotion. If I die now, it’s better that I’m at least laughing than cursing.
After what seemed like an hour, my feet touch the flat bottom. I am so relieved. I am not hurt. A quick thanks to God.
But we are not out of trouble yet. There is now very difficult traversing along a steep, patchy rock pile directly above a running river. The snow is incredibly deep and sticky due to the warm temperatures. I am exhausted. My calves are on fire and I cannot catch my breath. Wes skis behind me to make sure nothing happens.
We eventually run out of snow. Now time to bootpack once again. We follow some footsteps made from some other unlucky group who had been in our same situation. We need to cross the river. 50-foot cliffs line the river in some places and the water is moving pretty good. We walk up and down and across for about an hour. We come to a place where that is pretty flat and covered in soft snow that gives way to holes below. It looks too flat to snowboard. Time to ski. Split my board in half, attach my bindings to the telemark pins on either plank, and strap in. this might be the hardest part of the day. After a little while the slope steepens and I am able to switch back to the snowboard. Now this is fun again. We ride along for some time in a single file line and eventually come across an army base. We get questioned lightly at the army base and they let us though. We ask them how far to Tangmarg (place to get a taxi), and they say about an hour.
We could walk all night and I wouldn’t care as much. We were on flat ground and there was no immediate danger of falling. The walk was actually very nice, taking us down the river valley with great views back up at the mountain we had just scampered down. We entered thick forest for a little while, and it was hard to imagine this was India and not somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. A couple of hours pass and we are nowhere near Tangmarg. We are now completely exhausted from walking and hiking, the sun has set and it is getting dark. Quickly.
I think I hear a car, but it cannot be. There is nothing near us. I hear it again- closer. Then around the next turn comes a little minivan. Matt moves to the side of the road but I stop right in the middle with my arms out. There is no way this car will leave without giving us a ride where we need. Everyone has a price. The good news for being a foreigner is that this price is relatively cheap. I ask the guys if they’ll give us a ride for 400 rupees (about $10). They agreed. All four of us pile into this little automobile. We were soon relieved as it was still over a mile to the town of Tangmarg. It is now pitch black. We find another taxi to take us up to Gulmarg and to the relief of Sam and Alan, arrive back at the hotel around 7pm. People were getting worried for us and were even thinking about heading a search party for the morning. There is literally nothing you can do on such a large mountain without daylight. We agree upon some safety considerations such as first aid, and search/rescue plans for possible situations.
Today was an experience all right, and a bit sobering too. Looking back we learned a few things and gained a greater respect for this mountain and how quickly it can swallow you if you don’t respect its danger. Last year a girl came to our same hotel and went up for a quick ride very close to our hotel. Her body was found the next spring.
I think I’ll take tomorrow off from snowboarding and explore the town. Snow is on the way.
Backcountry
1/25/10
Gulmarg
My snowboard splits in half to make skis. this allows me to traverse long distances, and when I apply skins (an adhesive strip of fabric with short, unidirectional fibers that allows movement only in one direction in snow) I can actually go uphill. This is primarily how we get around to the backcountry bowls. Two days ago the weather was looking nice and sunny so we decided to do some filming. Since it was a very long trek to the drop in spot, I volunteered to film because it meant less of a skin. Wes also volunteered to film and show me the roped of skinning. He’s a pretty good teacher. At 14,000 feet, the air is incredibly thin. At first, I seemed to be doing fine and started off with a steady pace, but soon I was gasping for air and had to stop to catch my breath. The trick is to find a pace where you don’t have to stop and catch your breath. This means smaller steps and slower breathing. Sometimes I could only make half a dozen steps before I had to lean on my ski poles and focus my breathing.
The morning light was hitting the adjacent ridge creating distinct shadows and a approaching weather supplied a dramatic background. The surrounding mountains stretch as far as the eye can see and were constantly in and out of light with small snow flurries accenting different features of the massive mountains.
Unfortunately the lighting didn’t hold by the time the group got their stuff together to ski down. By the time Wes and I skied down, it was snowing and nearing total white out conditions.
We’ve made friends with some other foreigners. James is a Kiwi and is renting the room two doors down the hall from us. He’s quite a good telemark skier. He is only here for another week and has to go back to his job as a mineworker. He has a very mellow demeanor spotted with moments of witty humor.
Amet is from Sweden and is half Indian- half Swede. He is renting a room at a nicer hotel up the hill from us. He’s been here the longest and is staying for the whole season. He’s got long wavy black hair and a trimmed beard and mustache that surround his unusually white teeth.
The community here is quite interesting with many people coming and going and a few here for the whole season.
Gulmarg
My snowboard splits in half to make skis. this allows me to traverse long distances, and when I apply skins (an adhesive strip of fabric with short, unidirectional fibers that allows movement only in one direction in snow) I can actually go uphill. This is primarily how we get around to the backcountry bowls. Two days ago the weather was looking nice and sunny so we decided to do some filming. Since it was a very long trek to the drop in spot, I volunteered to film because it meant less of a skin. Wes also volunteered to film and show me the roped of skinning. He’s a pretty good teacher. At 14,000 feet, the air is incredibly thin. At first, I seemed to be doing fine and started off with a steady pace, but soon I was gasping for air and had to stop to catch my breath. The trick is to find a pace where you don’t have to stop and catch your breath. This means smaller steps and slower breathing. Sometimes I could only make half a dozen steps before I had to lean on my ski poles and focus my breathing.
The morning light was hitting the adjacent ridge creating distinct shadows and a approaching weather supplied a dramatic background. The surrounding mountains stretch as far as the eye can see and were constantly in and out of light with small snow flurries accenting different features of the massive mountains.
Unfortunately the lighting didn’t hold by the time the group got their stuff together to ski down. By the time Wes and I skied down, it was snowing and nearing total white out conditions.
We’ve made friends with some other foreigners. James is a Kiwi and is renting the room two doors down the hall from us. He’s quite a good telemark skier. He is only here for another week and has to go back to his job as a mineworker. He has a very mellow demeanor spotted with moments of witty humor.
Amet is from Sweden and is half Indian- half Swede. He is renting a room at a nicer hotel up the hill from us. He’s been here the longest and is staying for the whole season. He’s got long wavy black hair and a trimmed beard and mustache that surround his unusually white teeth.
The community here is quite interesting with many people coming and going and a few here for the whole season.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
First few days in Gulmarg
1/24/10
Gulmarg
After my plane touched down in Srinagar a feeling of happiness swept over me even though outside was an ugly landscape of military bunkers and barracks, dotted with soldiers holding semi-automatic weapons. This place is really affected by the war over the disputed area of Kashmir. At first glance, it’s hard to see why anyone would want this area. I met four Frenchmen also carrying ski bags and we shared a rented jeep all the way to Gulmarg, two-hours away. It cost less than thirty dollars total for all five of us and our gear. Driving through the streets of Srinagar, it was apparent these were a completely different type of person than the Indians I saw in Delhi. People in Kashmir have unbelievable pride in their heritage, and do not consider themselves an Indian. They are Kashmiri. And most are Muslim. The men have thick grey bears and large bushy eyebrows, and all wear a large, colorful outer garment that is basically a giant poncho with sleeves for their arms. These sleeves are rarely used as their arms are tucked inside, constantly crossed against their chest.
Huge, white-capped mountains soon appeared out of the hazy fog and we started to climb up switchback roads in the steep forest. On the way up, we passed by a large military caravan, which our driver honked at as he sped past them on blind corners and hairpin turns.
I arrived at Gulmarg around 5:00pm. A dark grey cloud obscured the huge mountain that was looming somewhere on the horizon. I walked up to the hotel where Matt, Wes, and their two friends are staying. No one was apparently inside. The dark corridors had no movement or sounds.
I walked up to the second level and yelled, “Roon!” The door right next to me suddenly burst open. I had arrived.
It was such a relief to finally be at the place I was going to be staying for the next 5 weeks. I bunked in with Wes’ friends, Alan and Sam, in order to save money. Matt has another friend arriving in a week, and we’ll split a room. The cost for a room is 850 rupees per night, approximately $20. The rooms were nicer than I was expecting. Large windows overlook the street below and the gondola station about 200 yards away. There is actually warm water that is heated in a 55-gallon barrel by basically running bare wires directly from the socket into the water. No running water. Electricity is on most of the time. A Wood-stove called a "bukari" heats the room. It’s a tiny cylindrical stove about two feet tall that sprouts a chimney that goes up another two feet, then takes a hard right turn and runs out of the wall. It kind of looks like the Tinman’s hat from the Wizard of Oz
After retelling my travel hang-ups to the guys, Matt points to the windows and has me turn around. I need to press my face against the window to see the entire thing. The clouds have cleared and there is Gulmarg mountain, pointing straight up and stretching either direction 180 degrees. The top ridge slices the backlit sky. Evening yellows behind the mountain contrast with the light blue shadows on the face. We are in the shadow of the mountain.
That night I can’t focus as I try to unpack. It turns out the village has changed quite a bit in the two years since Matt was here. There are a few stores now where you can buy some basic supplies like toothpaste, clothes, and a bit of ski gear.
That night we walk up to a nicer hotel for dinner. The food is incredible. Fresh-made garlic nan (like pita) arrives steaming hot, along with rich curries and rice dishes. The water is actually fine to drink here (so far, anyway) and tastes delicious. It comes straight of the mountain, ice-cold.
A hand clasps down on my shoulder from behind. It’s the Russians! Turns out the flight I was originally on ended up leaving. I didn’t even care; all that mattered was that I arrived. We had some drinks and returned back to Hotel Green Heights. I opened up my sleeping bag, hoped inside and quickly fell asleep. The woodstove ran out quickly and soon the entire room neared freezing temperature, but the sleeping bag is working just fine. I can already feel the 9,000-foot elevation here in town.
The next day we donned our gear and hit the mountain. I bought a season pass (I was only number 20 on the list) that gives you unlimited gondola rides and some special treatment.
The snow conditions here are very lacking. There hasn’t been any new snow in over two weeks and whatever was there before is fairly wind-blown and packed. I couldn’t have possibly picked a worse terrain to try out my new board. Rocks and icy, wind ridges made for a difficult time. My new board is only meant for powder. It is a lot longer and looser than my normal resort board. This makes it difficult to turn quickly and hop over and around rocks. Definitely put a few scratches on in those first few hundred yards. We dropped in below the ridge and traversed about a quarter-mile, three ridges over.
It is very different wearing all the backcountry gear. I have an avalanche beacon strapped to my chest right over my base layer in a gun holster kind of thing. On the outside I have a backpack filled with a shovel, probe (long tent pole for finding buried people), Skins (for going uphill when I split my board into skis), extra jacket, headlamp (for unexpected delays), some water and food.
We dropped in below ridgeline and held high to the right and ended up in some untracked areas with some decent snow. This place is big enough that even though there has been no new snow for over 2 weeks, you can still find places untouched. These guys I’m skiing with are very knowledgeable about snow safety and group riding. One guy goes at a time, skiing to a designated safe zone, while everyone watches. This is important if an avalanche were to happen.
3,000 vertical feet later we are at the bottom of the snow cover. From here we took our gear off and strapped it to our backpacks and started to boot pack out. This is basically hiking over land and snow. We had to climb about 700 vertical feet to get back to the gondola mid station so we could download back down. Half way there we stopped at a snowy meadow and practiced avalanche beacon drills by throwing a transmitter in the snow and then searching for it and digging it out.
So the snow is not very good, but the good news is that a storm is coming, and might bring a couple feet of much needed snow. The bad news is that the current snow surface is quite hard due to melt/freeze cycles and any new snow would create potentially dangerous snow stability. The best-case scenario would be for a large amount of new snow (6 feet or more) that would overload the snow pack and cause natural avalanches, ensuring safe skiing.
Ok, there will be more on the snow conditions and snowboarding adventures later. Right now I am sitting in a little shop, maybe 60 square feet using the only wireless in town. The shop owner, Nabi, is sitting right next to me and we are talking about all kinds of things. He is middle aged, wearing the typical clothing with the typical white/grey beard. Nice guy. We just finished dinner at a different hotel (amazing food, 4 course meal, $5 per person) and are about to go to sleep and get up early tomorrow and, weather permitting, will travel a long distance to find some good snow and long runs.
More to come soon.
-Riley
Gulmarg
After my plane touched down in Srinagar a feeling of happiness swept over me even though outside was an ugly landscape of military bunkers and barracks, dotted with soldiers holding semi-automatic weapons. This place is really affected by the war over the disputed area of Kashmir. At first glance, it’s hard to see why anyone would want this area. I met four Frenchmen also carrying ski bags and we shared a rented jeep all the way to Gulmarg, two-hours away. It cost less than thirty dollars total for all five of us and our gear. Driving through the streets of Srinagar, it was apparent these were a completely different type of person than the Indians I saw in Delhi. People in Kashmir have unbelievable pride in their heritage, and do not consider themselves an Indian. They are Kashmiri. And most are Muslim. The men have thick grey bears and large bushy eyebrows, and all wear a large, colorful outer garment that is basically a giant poncho with sleeves for their arms. These sleeves are rarely used as their arms are tucked inside, constantly crossed against their chest.
Huge, white-capped mountains soon appeared out of the hazy fog and we started to climb up switchback roads in the steep forest. On the way up, we passed by a large military caravan, which our driver honked at as he sped past them on blind corners and hairpin turns.
I arrived at Gulmarg around 5:00pm. A dark grey cloud obscured the huge mountain that was looming somewhere on the horizon. I walked up to the hotel where Matt, Wes, and their two friends are staying. No one was apparently inside. The dark corridors had no movement or sounds.
I walked up to the second level and yelled, “Roon!” The door right next to me suddenly burst open. I had arrived.
It was such a relief to finally be at the place I was going to be staying for the next 5 weeks. I bunked in with Wes’ friends, Alan and Sam, in order to save money. Matt has another friend arriving in a week, and we’ll split a room. The cost for a room is 850 rupees per night, approximately $20. The rooms were nicer than I was expecting. Large windows overlook the street below and the gondola station about 200 yards away. There is actually warm water that is heated in a 55-gallon barrel by basically running bare wires directly from the socket into the water. No running water. Electricity is on most of the time. A Wood-stove called a "bukari" heats the room. It’s a tiny cylindrical stove about two feet tall that sprouts a chimney that goes up another two feet, then takes a hard right turn and runs out of the wall. It kind of looks like the Tinman’s hat from the Wizard of Oz
After retelling my travel hang-ups to the guys, Matt points to the windows and has me turn around. I need to press my face against the window to see the entire thing. The clouds have cleared and there is Gulmarg mountain, pointing straight up and stretching either direction 180 degrees. The top ridge slices the backlit sky. Evening yellows behind the mountain contrast with the light blue shadows on the face. We are in the shadow of the mountain.
That night I can’t focus as I try to unpack. It turns out the village has changed quite a bit in the two years since Matt was here. There are a few stores now where you can buy some basic supplies like toothpaste, clothes, and a bit of ski gear.
That night we walk up to a nicer hotel for dinner. The food is incredible. Fresh-made garlic nan (like pita) arrives steaming hot, along with rich curries and rice dishes. The water is actually fine to drink here (so far, anyway) and tastes delicious. It comes straight of the mountain, ice-cold.
A hand clasps down on my shoulder from behind. It’s the Russians! Turns out the flight I was originally on ended up leaving. I didn’t even care; all that mattered was that I arrived. We had some drinks and returned back to Hotel Green Heights. I opened up my sleeping bag, hoped inside and quickly fell asleep. The woodstove ran out quickly and soon the entire room neared freezing temperature, but the sleeping bag is working just fine. I can already feel the 9,000-foot elevation here in town.
The next day we donned our gear and hit the mountain. I bought a season pass (I was only number 20 on the list) that gives you unlimited gondola rides and some special treatment.
The snow conditions here are very lacking. There hasn’t been any new snow in over two weeks and whatever was there before is fairly wind-blown and packed. I couldn’t have possibly picked a worse terrain to try out my new board. Rocks and icy, wind ridges made for a difficult time. My new board is only meant for powder. It is a lot longer and looser than my normal resort board. This makes it difficult to turn quickly and hop over and around rocks. Definitely put a few scratches on in those first few hundred yards. We dropped in below the ridge and traversed about a quarter-mile, three ridges over.
It is very different wearing all the backcountry gear. I have an avalanche beacon strapped to my chest right over my base layer in a gun holster kind of thing. On the outside I have a backpack filled with a shovel, probe (long tent pole for finding buried people), Skins (for going uphill when I split my board into skis), extra jacket, headlamp (for unexpected delays), some water and food.
We dropped in below ridgeline and held high to the right and ended up in some untracked areas with some decent snow. This place is big enough that even though there has been no new snow for over 2 weeks, you can still find places untouched. These guys I’m skiing with are very knowledgeable about snow safety and group riding. One guy goes at a time, skiing to a designated safe zone, while everyone watches. This is important if an avalanche were to happen.
3,000 vertical feet later we are at the bottom of the snow cover. From here we took our gear off and strapped it to our backpacks and started to boot pack out. This is basically hiking over land and snow. We had to climb about 700 vertical feet to get back to the gondola mid station so we could download back down. Half way there we stopped at a snowy meadow and practiced avalanche beacon drills by throwing a transmitter in the snow and then searching for it and digging it out.
So the snow is not very good, but the good news is that a storm is coming, and might bring a couple feet of much needed snow. The bad news is that the current snow surface is quite hard due to melt/freeze cycles and any new snow would create potentially dangerous snow stability. The best-case scenario would be for a large amount of new snow (6 feet or more) that would overload the snow pack and cause natural avalanches, ensuring safe skiing.
Ok, there will be more on the snow conditions and snowboarding adventures later. Right now I am sitting in a little shop, maybe 60 square feet using the only wireless in town. The shop owner, Nabi, is sitting right next to me and we are talking about all kinds of things. He is middle aged, wearing the typical clothing with the typical white/grey beard. Nice guy. We just finished dinner at a different hotel (amazing food, 4 course meal, $5 per person) and are about to go to sleep and get up early tomorrow and, weather permitting, will travel a long distance to find some good snow and long runs.
More to come soon.
-Riley
Friday, January 22, 2010
Made it!
Its official. After 96 hours of traveling in and out of airports, standing in lines, waiting without any news of flight status, i finally made it to Gulmarg. I am so happy to be here. Internet is spotty and i am completely whipped, so i am not saying much on this post. that's fine, i think i wrote too much on my last one anyway.
I might not be able to post every day, but i'll try to get something up every other day at least.
Pray for snow, things are a bit bare here.
-Riley
I might not be able to post every day, but i'll try to get something up every other day at least.
Pray for snow, things are a bit bare here.
-Riley
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Third time's a charm. Let's hope
1/22/10
Delhi
My sense of humor is wearing thin. The airport is packed. Flights have been delayed all morning long due to the worst fog they’ve had since 2003. To make things worse, the Indian Airforce closes the airspace every day from noon till 1:30 to practice drills for an upcoming holiday. Just so happens that the fog tends to lift at noon. Many flights are canceled. My flight is in Limbo. I stood near my gate for over 3 hours just waiting for some kind of announcement. It seems like every flight besides ours is being informed their fate. We were supposed to board at 11:30am and at 2:30pm we get an announcement saying our flight was delayed and “any inconvenience, of course, is deeply regretted”. They are not very apologetic in India. So time is running out. Planes are not allowed to land or take off from Srinagar after 4:30pm. People are now starting to get angry. At 3:00 things look hopeful. They check us in and we wait for the bus to take us to the plane. However, flights to more populated destinations like Mumbai and Hyderabad are getting preference on the Bus. So again we wait with no information for a bus. We make it to the plane and board. My least favorite part of flying is watching other passengers look aimlessly for their seat and try to fit their carry-on luggage in the overhead space. So I just close my eyes, so happy to be on the plane.
They cancel the flight. Turns out they never even loaded our luggage. It was just something the check-in department did to pass the problem on to another department. Well, now back to the helpless help desk flooded with now twice the number of angry people as yesterday. This time I run. I might not be a good pusher, but I will out sprint your average middle-aged Indian man. they cannot guaranty seats on the flight tomorrow because only one plane flight and now three days worth of people. And our luggage might be lost somewhere on the tarmac. I can deal with missing a couple days of snowboarding, but I cannot deal with missing every day because my bags are lost.
A tense hour passes until our bags arrive. Thank God. Back to the same shitty hotel with the same pushing, angry, impatient mob of Indian men.
This is like a movie. A bad Bollywood movie and I am stuck, surrounded by the jostling background dancers. I just want a cold beer so I walk down to the nearest market. The store is closed.
(This is the trash right outside my hotel)
It’s a smaller room this time for Tasneef and I. But there is hot water! Yes! Holy crap, yes. It’s the little things. Turned my whole day around taking that hot shower. Then a Russian I had met earlier bursts into my room with a cold beer in hand and says, “I have found one. We go drink”. Although I am incredibly tired, I decide to go with them to party somewhere. There are four of them- three guys and a girl. These guys like to party. They are passing around Jaegermeifter (they called it medicine) and laughing and trying hard to speak good English to me. Whenever I drink Jaeger I can’t help but remember the time I woke up without my two front teeth, so I take it slow.
We eat a spicy Indian dinner at an expensive restaurant. These guys want to spend money and I definitely do not. They want to carry on to a disco and stay out late, but I am literally using all my strength to keep one eye open. Super jet lag. I go home. Sleep never felt so good.
I woke up early this morning. I WILL MAKE IT TO SRINAGAR TODAY. I have detached from the group. They go slow and I always end up last in line. I am not risking that today. I leave the hotel in the dark for the airport. Dad, you’ll be proud. I showed up 6 hours early for my flight. I walk up to the Jet Airways ticket counter and get a reservation for the flight. Then I have to go to a different check in counter to get a ticket. The lady at this counter, looks at me, looks at my reservation, then asks me to step aside and wait. I ask her why, she just says does the typical Indian bobble head gesture and says “just wait” This gesture, by the way, somehow offends me so much that it wouldn’t be any different if they were to flip me off then stick their middle finger up my nose. Yeah, my sense of humor is lacking. So I wait 5 minutes. Then this really bad feeling sets on me and I just know today will be another day of waiting around, being kept in the dark. Screw Jet Airways.
I go buy a ticket with Air India for $100 and try to get a refund from Jet Airways (doesn’t look probably). Air India is a government-run airlines and I’ve been told they have preference for take off. I walk to a different terminal to check in. I’m standing in a seemingly well-behaved line with even spacing when all of a sudden a man cuts right in front me. No more Mr. Nice guy. I just grab him and throw him behind me. It’s king of the mountain today, boy. A smile gets you nowhere here.
Baggage fee was nearly as much as my ticket. I don’t care. I will get the hell out of Delhi today. Get nearly stripped searched going through security. I’ve gone through Delhi security 3 times now. Every time it is something completely different that they have a problem with. Today is was the harmonica- they were sure it was some kind of weapon. They made me play it. I don’t play the harmonica. I brought it last minute thinking I’ll have a lot of time on my hands, why not learn a new instrument. So I played some seriously complicated “Jazz” for them… obnoxiously loud.
I have a good feeling about this flight today, but I don’t hear the fat lady singing yet. New Airlines, new Indians, same fog.
Delhi
My sense of humor is wearing thin. The airport is packed. Flights have been delayed all morning long due to the worst fog they’ve had since 2003. To make things worse, the Indian Airforce closes the airspace every day from noon till 1:30 to practice drills for an upcoming holiday. Just so happens that the fog tends to lift at noon. Many flights are canceled. My flight is in Limbo. I stood near my gate for over 3 hours just waiting for some kind of announcement. It seems like every flight besides ours is being informed their fate. We were supposed to board at 11:30am and at 2:30pm we get an announcement saying our flight was delayed and “any inconvenience, of course, is deeply regretted”. They are not very apologetic in India. So time is running out. Planes are not allowed to land or take off from Srinagar after 4:30pm. People are now starting to get angry. At 3:00 things look hopeful. They check us in and we wait for the bus to take us to the plane. However, flights to more populated destinations like Mumbai and Hyderabad are getting preference on the Bus. So again we wait with no information for a bus. We make it to the plane and board. My least favorite part of flying is watching other passengers look aimlessly for their seat and try to fit their carry-on luggage in the overhead space. So I just close my eyes, so happy to be on the plane.
They cancel the flight. Turns out they never even loaded our luggage. It was just something the check-in department did to pass the problem on to another department. Well, now back to the helpless help desk flooded with now twice the number of angry people as yesterday. This time I run. I might not be a good pusher, but I will out sprint your average middle-aged Indian man. they cannot guaranty seats on the flight tomorrow because only one plane flight and now three days worth of people. And our luggage might be lost somewhere on the tarmac. I can deal with missing a couple days of snowboarding, but I cannot deal with missing every day because my bags are lost.
A tense hour passes until our bags arrive. Thank God. Back to the same shitty hotel with the same pushing, angry, impatient mob of Indian men.
This is like a movie. A bad Bollywood movie and I am stuck, surrounded by the jostling background dancers. I just want a cold beer so I walk down to the nearest market. The store is closed.
(This is the trash right outside my hotel)
It’s a smaller room this time for Tasneef and I. But there is hot water! Yes! Holy crap, yes. It’s the little things. Turned my whole day around taking that hot shower. Then a Russian I had met earlier bursts into my room with a cold beer in hand and says, “I have found one. We go drink”. Although I am incredibly tired, I decide to go with them to party somewhere. There are four of them- three guys and a girl. These guys like to party. They are passing around Jaegermeifter (they called it medicine) and laughing and trying hard to speak good English to me. Whenever I drink Jaeger I can’t help but remember the time I woke up without my two front teeth, so I take it slow.
We eat a spicy Indian dinner at an expensive restaurant. These guys want to spend money and I definitely do not. They want to carry on to a disco and stay out late, but I am literally using all my strength to keep one eye open. Super jet lag. I go home. Sleep never felt so good.
I woke up early this morning. I WILL MAKE IT TO SRINAGAR TODAY. I have detached from the group. They go slow and I always end up last in line. I am not risking that today. I leave the hotel in the dark for the airport. Dad, you’ll be proud. I showed up 6 hours early for my flight. I walk up to the Jet Airways ticket counter and get a reservation for the flight. Then I have to go to a different check in counter to get a ticket. The lady at this counter, looks at me, looks at my reservation, then asks me to step aside and wait. I ask her why, she just says does the typical Indian bobble head gesture and says “just wait” This gesture, by the way, somehow offends me so much that it wouldn’t be any different if they were to flip me off then stick their middle finger up my nose. Yeah, my sense of humor is lacking. So I wait 5 minutes. Then this really bad feeling sets on me and I just know today will be another day of waiting around, being kept in the dark. Screw Jet Airways.
I go buy a ticket with Air India for $100 and try to get a refund from Jet Airways (doesn’t look probably). Air India is a government-run airlines and I’ve been told they have preference for take off. I walk to a different terminal to check in. I’m standing in a seemingly well-behaved line with even spacing when all of a sudden a man cuts right in front me. No more Mr. Nice guy. I just grab him and throw him behind me. It’s king of the mountain today, boy. A smile gets you nowhere here.
Baggage fee was nearly as much as my ticket. I don’t care. I will get the hell out of Delhi today. Get nearly stripped searched going through security. I’ve gone through Delhi security 3 times now. Every time it is something completely different that they have a problem with. Today is was the harmonica- they were sure it was some kind of weapon. They made me play it. I don’t play the harmonica. I brought it last minute thinking I’ll have a lot of time on my hands, why not learn a new instrument. So I played some seriously complicated “Jazz” for them… obnoxiously loud.
I have a good feeling about this flight today, but I don’t hear the fat lady singing yet. New Airlines, new Indians, same fog.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Let's try that again. Still trying to get to Gulmarg after some major setbacks.
1/20/10
Delhi
Things go slowly in India. People like to rush to the front of the line, pushing and prodding their way to be first. This only slows things down. Yesterday, I almost accidentally got on a plane going to Hyderabad. The Airport had decided to switch gates last minute and not tell anyone. We had to catch a bus to bring us to the plane. Standing in line, I started to hear people speaking Chinese. I turn around and see about 50 Chinese tourists with a few monks scattered here and they’re all following a guy holding a flag. Tour group. I remember the time I did a similar thing the first time I went to China. You just follow some guy around to all the famous temples and places and he just talks and talks about it. This is very different from the traveling I'm doing alone.
The bus got lost on the way to the plane. Here we are in the middle of a vast runway system and our bus is stopped. The driver is trying to figure out which plane to go to. The dense fog has lifted and left behind dense pollution. A white/ brown haze cut visibility down to about 200 meters.
We get on the plane and I’m surrounded by these Chinese tourists, all pushing and taking pictures of everything. When everyone settles down, I notice there are completely empty rows up forward, so I go and claim row one. Awesome. Because of the fog earlier, there are planes backed up waiting to take off. We are number 44 on the list and we will be sitting on the tarmac for a couple hours… Now I’m pretty tired because I’ve been traveling for 52 hours so far, so when I got to my seat I just pass out. I wake up as we’re in the air an our captain is saying due to technical reasons, we have to turn around back to Delhi and we descend back into the thick, brown smog.
So we land, deplane and stand in more lines. Eventually after hours of standing amongst the masses all waving their tickets in the air and shouting at one poor lady behind the customer service desk, the airline buys us a hotel and transport to and from.
I meet a man from Srinagar who is very nice. Tasneef is his name. He speaks very good English and has lived all over the world. We share the taxi to the hotel. At the hotel they are putting two to a room so Tasneef and I decide to share one. We have some time to kill before dinner so I decide to take a shower. No towels. I run back down to the front desk (we’re on the 4th floor, no elevator) and try to negotiate for a towel. I don’t really get a clear answer besides try again in 5 minutes. So I wait. Turns out there isn’t one towel in this whole hotel and they are trying to arrange for some. It takes close to an hour for a towel to land in my hands. The towel was wet. Go to take a shower only to find ice-cold water trickling out of the faucet. Oh well, I stink so badly I just go for it. I just started laughing at the whole dilemma. You need a sense of humor to travel through India.
Walk around the busy streets outside. Our hotel is on the side of what seems like a freeway with no rules. Cars are honking relentlessly right outside our window.
At dinner I meet more Kasmiri Muslims and they really want to talk about politics and religion with me. Now I’m a little nervous. Luckily, Tasneef has a level head and keeps on coming to my rescue. Bottom line, they hate Bush beyond all belief, and are still raised to be prejudice against Jews. I’m realizing more and more that Kashmir is a really controversial place. No planes are allowed to land after 4:30 p.m. for security reasons and Jews be warned.
Now I’m back at the airport after an amazing nights sleep in a real bed. Turns out they never booked us on today’s flight to Srinagar. Luckily I got one of the last seats. Passed security again (they were very skeptical about the cliff bars) and am once again waiting to board my delayed flight. It is very foggy like yesterday and flights are already backed way up waiting to take off once the fog lifts. But the sun is starting to burn it off and I am ready to leave Delhi.
Delhi
Things go slowly in India. People like to rush to the front of the line, pushing and prodding their way to be first. This only slows things down. Yesterday, I almost accidentally got on a plane going to Hyderabad. The Airport had decided to switch gates last minute and not tell anyone. We had to catch a bus to bring us to the plane. Standing in line, I started to hear people speaking Chinese. I turn around and see about 50 Chinese tourists with a few monks scattered here and they’re all following a guy holding a flag. Tour group. I remember the time I did a similar thing the first time I went to China. You just follow some guy around to all the famous temples and places and he just talks and talks about it. This is very different from the traveling I'm doing alone.
The bus got lost on the way to the plane. Here we are in the middle of a vast runway system and our bus is stopped. The driver is trying to figure out which plane to go to. The dense fog has lifted and left behind dense pollution. A white/ brown haze cut visibility down to about 200 meters.
We get on the plane and I’m surrounded by these Chinese tourists, all pushing and taking pictures of everything. When everyone settles down, I notice there are completely empty rows up forward, so I go and claim row one. Awesome. Because of the fog earlier, there are planes backed up waiting to take off. We are number 44 on the list and we will be sitting on the tarmac for a couple hours… Now I’m pretty tired because I’ve been traveling for 52 hours so far, so when I got to my seat I just pass out. I wake up as we’re in the air an our captain is saying due to technical reasons, we have to turn around back to Delhi and we descend back into the thick, brown smog.
So we land, deplane and stand in more lines. Eventually after hours of standing amongst the masses all waving their tickets in the air and shouting at one poor lady behind the customer service desk, the airline buys us a hotel and transport to and from.
I meet a man from Srinagar who is very nice. Tasneef is his name. He speaks very good English and has lived all over the world. We share the taxi to the hotel. At the hotel they are putting two to a room so Tasneef and I decide to share one. We have some time to kill before dinner so I decide to take a shower. No towels. I run back down to the front desk (we’re on the 4th floor, no elevator) and try to negotiate for a towel. I don’t really get a clear answer besides try again in 5 minutes. So I wait. Turns out there isn’t one towel in this whole hotel and they are trying to arrange for some. It takes close to an hour for a towel to land in my hands. The towel was wet. Go to take a shower only to find ice-cold water trickling out of the faucet. Oh well, I stink so badly I just go for it. I just started laughing at the whole dilemma. You need a sense of humor to travel through India.
Walk around the busy streets outside. Our hotel is on the side of what seems like a freeway with no rules. Cars are honking relentlessly right outside our window.
At dinner I meet more Kasmiri Muslims and they really want to talk about politics and religion with me. Now I’m a little nervous. Luckily, Tasneef has a level head and keeps on coming to my rescue. Bottom line, they hate Bush beyond all belief, and are still raised to be prejudice against Jews. I’m realizing more and more that Kashmir is a really controversial place. No planes are allowed to land after 4:30 p.m. for security reasons and Jews be warned.
Now I’m back at the airport after an amazing nights sleep in a real bed. Turns out they never booked us on today’s flight to Srinagar. Luckily I got one of the last seats. Passed security again (they were very skeptical about the cliff bars) and am once again waiting to board my delayed flight. It is very foggy like yesterday and flights are already backed way up waiting to take off once the fog lifts. But the sun is starting to burn it off and I am ready to leave Delhi.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Still En Route
1/20/10
Delhi
Made it to Delhi. Now just one more flight to get to Srinagar, then a taxi ride to Gulmarg. I've been traveling for a while now. Maui, L.A, Chicago (6-hour layover), Delhi (15-hour flight followed by a 12-hour layover). All in all, I think it's around 58 hours of traveling. A shower sounds pretty good right now.
So my flight from Chicago was by far the longest flight I've been on. Ever. As I was killing time in Chicago O'Hare Airport, I walked under a large hollow globe made out of metal. I quickly noticed that India and Florida were exactly on opposite sides of the globe. I just stopped in the middle of the bustling rush of morning commuters and stared at that globe, slowly excepting the fact that I was about to literally fly half way around the earth. And I had already traveled nearly a quarter of the way around the world going from Hawaii to Chicago. I think the other way would have been faster.
So I didn't need to look up which gate I would leave from. I just found the one with hundreds of Indian people sitting near it. Immediately I noticed close to 40 small children running around, screaming, crying, and doing things to get yelled at by their mothers. Did I mention this flight is 15 hours long?
I had an older Indian man sitting next to me who had a completely different outlook on the value of personal space. We got to talking and I guess he didn’t feel we could communicate properly unless our noses were touching. A couple of times I just had to laugh. Then I gave him gum.
We left at night, and landed at night. A whole day passed somewhere in between. Our flight path took us almost directly over the North Pole. It’s actually quicker to fly far north then drop down, using the Earth’s rotation to shorten the distance (Coriolis effect). There was daylight for a couple hours, but you’d never know because not a single person opened their windows. I just don’t understand that. What better way to pass time than stare out at new territory from a vantage point 5 miles above the Earth? Since I was sitting in the isle, I was getting a little antsy. I mean, we’re somewhere near the North Pole, there might be Santa’s house down there. Something. I found an emergency access door that had a little slider window that I had to half crouch and crane my neck over some stewardess sleeping. So here I am, hands on bent knees, using my forehead to lean against this window. Over a slumbering stewardess…totally worth it. Below me was an unreal snowscape: completely white in all directions with blue shadows and peach-orange light hitting the tops of hills and trees. Three Layers of thin, wispy clouds caught the light at different spectrums and reflected progressively lighter of orange. I was over Russia, somewhere near the Arctic Circle. This was their noon light. The sun was just sitting above the clouds. There were some signs of roads and villages down below in the frozen land. Man, it looked like a hard place to spend a winter.
This brief light was soon gone, which was a bummer because we were about to drop over Afghanistan and Pakistan and I really wanted to see those mountains.
Customs was a breeze. However, getting through the guard to the Domestic terminal was a little tense. He didn’t speak much English and got really interested/ opinionated when I showed him my ticket to Srinagar. He wanted to know why I was going, who I was with, and what were in the bags. Before he gave my permission to pass, he made a weird gesture. He squatted down a little, grabbed his crotch and waved his other hand below his junk. I didn’t really have anything to say to that. I just figured he had a bad taste in his mouth for Kashmir. But I kept on getting weird looks and responses when I showed guards and ticket agents my itinerary. Eventually I figured out they were trying to tell me it was really cold up there. That first guard was trying to tell me I was going to freeze my balls off. Now I get it.
So going on the final hour in Delhi airport and things are looking iffy. On the departures display board, nearly every flight has “CANCELED” in big red letters next to it. Let’s hope this fog clears up.
Monday, January 18, 2010
En Route
I am going to India to snowboard. When I tell people this, I always get the same response: "what? You can do that there? They have snow?” Yes, they have snow- the Himalayas. I realize I'm not going to India for India. I’m not going to see the typical sights. I’m not trying to fit an entire country into 6 weeks. That’s just not possible. Instead, I’m chasing adventure at a spot unlike any other in the world. When it comes down to it, I was looking for more than resort snowboarding. I’ve snowboarded since I was 9, and was instantly hooked. Thus began my adrenaline addiction.
So now I’m about to go deep into the Himalayas to a tiny town built around a military base that happens to have the longest or highest gondola in the world. I’m not sure which. Regardless of its title, it is impressive. This gondola drops you off at 14,000 ft with over 5,000 vertical feet of alpine bowls stretching in either direction for miles. That’s where my splitboard comes in handy. I have a snowboard that splits right down the middle into skis. You heard right. The bindings slide on and off these special attachments that allow me to switch from riding to a telemark ski setup. This way I can traverse long distances to access powder-filled bowls. This place has been referred to as heli-boarding without the helicopter.
When it comes down to it, I just got fed up with paying close to $100 a day to ski at a resort with thousands of other people. As the saying goes, there are no friends on a powder day. Well, you can imagine the lack of courtesy that goes along with hundreds of powder-hungry, vertically-frustrated strangers that all have to share the same few runs.
The other option to access steep powder is heli-boarding. Well, not an option for me.
So option 3, what I’m doing. It’s not like I’m the first to do something like this, it’s just a little far away from Hawaii. 56-hours-of-traveling, far away. Game on.
I’m a little nervous. Going instantly from humid Hawaii with thick, oxygen-rich air to cold, dry, 14,000-foot Himalayan Mountains will no doubt be a shock. I’ve done a little strength training and cardio exercises, which will help, but I’m sure I will be gasping for air as I’m climbing up these mountains.
Though I am not sightseeing, I look forward to getting to know this small village area. I haven’t heard much about this place where I am going, but I’m sure I will see a whole type of people and life. I know there is great snow much closer to me than India, but that’s actually part of what’s attracting me to this place- the fact that it is somewhere far and exotic.
At the moment I am in Chicago airport for 6 hours. It’s grey and cold outside. I couldn’t imagine living here at all. Airports are always interesting. You see all types of people. Some that stare off into space with their mouths open, some that immediately avert there eyes when you make eye contact, the loud person on the cell phone, the business men with two cell phones on their belt.
That’s it for now, I’ll try to update this thing when I can. At least once a week.
-Riley
So now I’m about to go deep into the Himalayas to a tiny town built around a military base that happens to have the longest or highest gondola in the world. I’m not sure which. Regardless of its title, it is impressive. This gondola drops you off at 14,000 ft with over 5,000 vertical feet of alpine bowls stretching in either direction for miles. That’s where my splitboard comes in handy. I have a snowboard that splits right down the middle into skis. You heard right. The bindings slide on and off these special attachments that allow me to switch from riding to a telemark ski setup. This way I can traverse long distances to access powder-filled bowls. This place has been referred to as heli-boarding without the helicopter.
When it comes down to it, I just got fed up with paying close to $100 a day to ski at a resort with thousands of other people. As the saying goes, there are no friends on a powder day. Well, you can imagine the lack of courtesy that goes along with hundreds of powder-hungry, vertically-frustrated strangers that all have to share the same few runs.
The other option to access steep powder is heli-boarding. Well, not an option for me.
So option 3, what I’m doing. It’s not like I’m the first to do something like this, it’s just a little far away from Hawaii. 56-hours-of-traveling, far away. Game on.
I’m a little nervous. Going instantly from humid Hawaii with thick, oxygen-rich air to cold, dry, 14,000-foot Himalayan Mountains will no doubt be a shock. I’ve done a little strength training and cardio exercises, which will help, but I’m sure I will be gasping for air as I’m climbing up these mountains.
Though I am not sightseeing, I look forward to getting to know this small village area. I haven’t heard much about this place where I am going, but I’m sure I will see a whole type of people and life. I know there is great snow much closer to me than India, but that’s actually part of what’s attracting me to this place- the fact that it is somewhere far and exotic.
At the moment I am in Chicago airport for 6 hours. It’s grey and cold outside. I couldn’t imagine living here at all. Airports are always interesting. You see all types of people. Some that stare off into space with their mouths open, some that immediately avert there eyes when you make eye contact, the loud person on the cell phone, the business men with two cell phones on their belt.
That’s it for now, I’ll try to update this thing when I can. At least once a week.
-Riley
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