Merry Christmas from the Nittis!!

Lauren and I went out for our annual Christmas dinner celebration at Jimmy's restaurant Friday night. Thirteen inches fell in Aspen during the day, and as we made our way back to the car, we noticed our little town was in full Postcard Mode. Thought we'd snap a quick picture for everyone.

Today was my last day with the pup for two weeks, so I thought I'd make it a special one and take her for a dawn patrol climb and ski up one of the resorts before it opened. At 6AM it was only 4 degrees, so I slapped the coat on Maci and we started the 2,000 foot climb up Tiehack. As you can see, there's a bit of snow on the ground.

That's my girl. When we reach the top, it takes me some time to strip the skins off my skis, tighten my boots, and put on some warmer clothes. Maci, as one might expect, get's a bit impatient.

The waiting over, we drop in and ski back down to the car. Maci does her best to keep up.

First Backcountry Pics of 2007/2008

There's been a number of trips so far this year, but this is the first with good pictures. My buddy Brian and I went for a long tour last weekend, finding pristine powder miles away from civilization.






Your's truly enjoying the fruits of his labor.

The Waiting Is the Hardest Part

Happy Thanksgiving from the Nitti Family!!!!!!!!!!!!

Her Training Begins

With Mom out of town for the weekend, Maci took the first steps towards becoming the backcountry ski companion she was born to be. The last week has seen over 2 feet of snow dropped on our high country; a perfect time to test the pups mettle.

On Thursday we climbed the Aspen resort before work. Maci was a bundle of energy for the first 1,000 vertical feet, but as we gained elevation, the snow became deeper and deeper . Still, whe soldiered on, and only when she stopped leading the way and instead fell in line behind me as I broke trail did I think she had probably had enough. So off came the skins, and we enjoyed a fun ski down together.

Back in town, that's the look of a happy pup and a successful ski debut.

Welcome: 2007/2008 Ski Season

With the Phitin' Phils unceremoniously dumped from the playoffs a mere three games in, I needed a way to forget my troubles for a bit. Luckily, Mother Nature obliged, and left 5 inches of new snow overnight.


New snow, however, isn't all one needs to launch a ski season. Without a solid base beneath it, you run the risk of some serious ski or lower appendage injury when you sink through the fluff and smash into the underlying ground features.


There's only a couple of places in all of Colorado that hold snow all year round and thus would provide a suitable base layer for our new snow, and one of them -- Montezuma Basin -- is located a stones throw from Aspen. Of course, that toss of the stone involves two hours of driving, an hour of which is on the worst dirt and rock road you can imagine and involves no less than three river crossings. Since we don't have an amphibious vehicle -- yet -- my buddy Todd and I opted for the Nitti family Nissan Pathfinder.

I apologize for the graininess (is that a word?) of the pics, but Lauren and I don't currently have a functional camera. (Christmas present idea!) Here's our parking spot, located 12,200 feet above sea level. The drive to this point is NOT for the faint of heart, as the drop-off is vertigo inducing. The beauty of a "road" like this is when you're tired of driving, you kind of just stop and park, wherever you are. It's not like anyone else is coming up behind you.
During our climb we ran into two other guys with similar desires to start their season. Here's a view back towards the road (it's the snaking white thing heading downvalley), and in the middle of the picture, you can make out the form of the two climbers. This talus field was all snow the last time Todd and I were up here, which coincidentally, was my last day on snow for last season, June 15th. Now, with a summer of melt behind us, the climb was a real pain in the ass, trying to negotiate all of these boulders.

I really have no idea of what this picture is. Is it someone's turns? A group of marmots? Avalanche debris? Why did I take this? Discuss.

From the base of the snow field, a view of Castle Peak and all 14,265 feet of its majesty. Our goal was not the summit, as it is currently unskiable, but rather the ridge just below the cliff band in the upper left hand corner of the picture.

On the way up, a cool shot of Castle Peak's North Coulour, which we skied to close last season. It's the vertical swath of white in the center of the picture. It looks quite a bit steeper and much more formidable without snow on it, I must say. Here's a couple of pictures from when we skied it in June:

The skiing was, well skiing. I'd give it a 3 out of 10, but it was October 6th, after all. This was more of a fitness day than anything else, climbing over 1,000 vertical feet. It was good to get the feel of a heavy pack on the back, boots on the feet, and of course, skis on the snow. I'm guessing there will be a couple more days before winter is through.

Ouch

Oh! somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Aspen -- the mighty Phillies are knocked out.

Goosebumps

You know, I've tried friendship, family, and religion, but nothing, and I mean nothing, has ever brought me quite the happiness that these six minutes of videotape do. *

As anyone who knows me well can attest, I'm a huge sports fan, but not a HUGE SPORTS FAN. I don't don jerseys or scream at the TV in sports bars, and my email address isn't 'COWBOYFAN1@hotmail.com. In fact, it's long been my contention that with the advent of fantasy sports, traditional fandom is an outdated concept. In this day and age, we don't root for teams, we root for events, because that 12-yard catch by Tampa Bay's tight end might win you 5o bucks this week in one of your 5 fantasy leagues. And to be fair, I'm just as guilty as most. Whereas a Cowboy loss would destroy me as a 12 year old, I'll now gladly accept it if it means my fantasy team kicker nailed a 50 yarder at the final whistle to beat them.

Then there's the Phillies. Try as I might, I just can't shake them. For as long as I can remember, a day hasn't ended between April and October when I haven't had to find the answer to the question, "Did the Phils win tonight?" More often that not, the answer has been no.

As I'm sure you're aware, the Phillies recently lost their 10,000 game, the first professional franchise to do so. They've won ONE World Series in their 120-year existence. And the last time they were in the playoffs, I was a freshman in college, Jurrasic Park was rocking our world, and Dean Gray had a full head of lustrous hair.

Then again, all that losing has made it easy to love the Phils. You can't get disappointed when you always expect the worse.

I'm going to shut up now, because I want you to just watch the video and enjoy. I promise, this will never, ever, get old.

* May be an embellishment

14 years...14 long, long years.

More on this later...

Trek to Crested Butte: Tribute

FACT: Crested Butte, a fantastic ski resort in its own right, is located a mere 11 miles from Aspen as the crow flies.

FACT: The most direct route from Aspen to Crested Butte via automobile is a not-so-direct 3-hour drive.

FACT: A reasonbly fit human being, properly motivated, could conceivably walk from Aspen to Crested Butte as quickly as they could drive.

'Tis true. And this weekend, six Aspenites and their three dogs set out to prove it.

The hike from Aspen to Crested Butte is a time-honored tradition for residents of the Roaring Fork Valley. While the hike is grueling (gaining over 3,000 vertical feet over the 11 miles), it's by no means impossible.

The real trick, however, is in the timing. Do it too early in the fall, and you'll rob yourself of the brilliant gold, oranges, and reds of the changing leaves. Wait too long, and the snow starts to fly, and you can't risk the climb over West Maroon Pass, which tops out at 12,500 feet.

This year, the temperatures just started to dip below forty degrees at night ten days ago. This got the leaves to do whatever it is they do, and by Thursday, our landscape had transformed from a boring green in a vertiable explosion of color.

So Saturday morning, myself, Lauren, our pup Maci, and four friends -- along with dogs Murray and Kya -- drove up to Maroon Lake -- home of the most photographed mountains in the country, the Maroon Bells -- and started the long climb over to Crested Butte.

For the first three hours or so, we couldn't get Lauren's digital camera working, so we were forced to use the disposable. Those pictures are forthcoming. By the time we stopped for a well-deserved meal, roughly four miles and 1,000 vertical feet into our climb, I got the digital working, and starting making up for lost time.

Here's Natalie, Brian, Lori and Murray enjoying a meal of Uncrustables and fruit leather.

Backcountry skiing buddy Todd and I resting our weary backs.

My wife and I and a view of the West Maroon valley in the background. Lauren was amazing, lugging a 15+ pound pack on the hike. We needed to carry everything necessary for not only the hike, but the rest of the weekend in Crested Butte as well. Throw in the Maci gear (food, toys, etc...) and you've got a pretty heavy load to lug over those mountains.

The view back towards Aspen as we inched closer to Crested Butte.

A glimpse of those colors I mentioned. You've got your yellows, you greens, and even some white lingering on the upper slopes.

Kya and Maci leading the way. Maci basically followed her fellow labrador, hero and role model everywhere she went. Meanwhile, Murray, a shepard by design, stayed right alongside the human contingent to make sure everyone was OK.

Our first view of West Maroon pass. After four hours of climbing through trees that prohibited a clear vantage point of our destination, we emerged from the forest and were greeted by this. That large mountain in the distance is the pass, and the only way to get to Crested Butte is to go up and over it.

In this picture, you'll notice that the mountain "dips" in the middle of the photo. This is referred to as a ""saddle," and it was this saddle that would provide us our entryway to Crested Butte.

Maci. At seven months, she's tireless and all legs. She faced a lost of tests this weekend, and passed each one with flying colors.

Some views of the surrounding area.

Like I said....all legs.

As we made our final approach to West Maroon pass, we stopped to take in some food and snap some photos. Here's Natale and Lauren, with Kya and Maci distracted in the background.

The view back down the valley towards Aspen. It makes you feel very, very small.

The final push to the top of the pass was 1,200 feet of lung-busting, leg-burning labor. From the top, here's my fist shot of our destination, Crested Butte, which until now had seemed entirely out of reach.

The view back towards Aspen, now seven miles away.

The three dogs at the summit of the pass. Again, Maci right on Kya's ass. She was relentless, and it was a miracle Kya didn't snap and put Maci in her rightful place.

Brian and Lori snacking on the summit.

Another shot towards Crested Butte.

My girl on the summit. I swear she had that smile the entire hike.

Sorry, I couldn't resist.

Come on...that's adorable and you know it!

I smell a Christmas Card!!!!

Murray never, ever leaves Brian's side. She's a big backcountry ski dog, and you can understand why when you witness his relentless loyalty up close and personal.

Which is more beautiful, the view or that smile? I'm going with the latter.

Another view towards Crested Butte. From the summit of the pass, it's four miles of rapid descending to the valley floor below.

Here's the congregation, growing weary but still determined.

The colors of fall.

From deep in the valley, a look back at the saddle we'd just summited.

Brian and Lori. Cool photo, isn't it?

Inching ever closer to Crested Butte.

Another of my favorite photos.

The two yellow Labs ceasing their hijinks just long enough to check in on their owners. They sure look guilty of something, don't they?

Our little girl, 10 miles in and still cruising.

The final descent towards the trailhead.

I just can't resist.

The dogs got so muddy, as we reconnected with the river, we thought we'd let them play so they'd clean off a bit. Otherwise the front desk folks at our hotel might think twice about allowing pets.

Neck deep in the West Maroon Creek.

Here they are, the weary warriors after 11 miles, 3000 feet of vertical climb, and nearly seven hours of hiking.

Lauren and I sent our Pathfinder with Lauren's friend, who was heading to Crested Butte on Saturday and offered to drop our car off at the trailhead. Unfortunately, she dropped the car off about a mile BEFORE the trailhead, scaring us to death when we had finally reached our destination only to find NO CAR.

A quick jaunt up the rode led us to the lost vehicle, however, and within minutes we were checking into our hotel in the Butte.

After a couple of celebratory beers, we headed into town, just in time to find the annual fall parade bearing down on us. Included in the festivities is a an abundance of chanting, a burning of the town "grump" and all sorts of other quasi-pagan stuff.

By ten, the group was dead on their feet, so back to the hotel room we went, only to find that to our surpise, our seven month old pup had NOT destroyed the place. Amazingn what seven hours of intense exercise can do for a dog's disposition.

We woke up today to rain, so we hopped in the car and drove the three-plus hours back to Aspen. Who knows, maybe next year, we'll hike back!