Backcountry Descent #7: Shooting Grizzly on June 3

If you read the below posts, you already know we climbed and skied Blue Peak on Memorial Day. As we stood on the summit, taking in the views for miles and miles, one peak stood out from the rest.

(Click on pic to enlarge for killer view)

At the time, I had no idea what it was, but it looked supremely bad-ass. So I went home, started googling, and found out that what I was looking at was Grizzly Peak, a hard to reach summit 9 miles from the nearest major road. Standing at 13,988 feet, it's just short of official "fourteener" status, but it would still be far and away the most technical high-altitude climb and ski we'd attempted. But attempt it we would.

Saturday morning we were up at 4, climbing by 5:30. The approach was LONG and flat until we reached Grizzly Lake, set right at the bottom of Grizzly Chute, the ever so enticing patch of snow running the length of the right-hand side of the mountain in the picture above.

Once you reach the lake, the only way to the summit is to climb straight up the chute. Since it's a bit of a western exposure, it was still firm as we stripped off our skis and started to boot straight up. The chute averages 40 degrees, with a bulge that reaches 45, so it was a long, hard climb. Towards the top, I would catch my breath and then climb until exhaustion, only to look at my altimeter and find out I had climbed 20 vertical feet. It was seriously, seriously humbling.

We reached the summit shortly after 9 AM, and if we raised our poles above our head, we could just about reach the acclaimed "fourteener" status. The rest was easy. Point our skis over the cornice, drop into the chute, and make turns for 1,500 feet. Oh, and don't fall, because at 45 degrees, nothing's stopping you until you hit the lake!

Backcountry Ski Descent #6: Birthday at 13,711 Feet

Memorial Day. My brother and his family left on Sunday morning, so first thing Monday AM my buddy Todd and I shot up to Independence Pass to ski Blue Peak. The pass, which closes every year around Halloween, had opened three days prior, instantly giving access to miles and miles of backcountry skiing right from the car. After months of long, miserable approaches to reach tree line, we were really, really excited about starting the day at 11,400 feet.

After parking the car, we climbed straight up this gully to a shelf at 12,200 feet. From there, it was a long, gradual boot to the top of Blue Peak.

Here's Todd coming out of the gully and onto the shelf. The sun just starting to hit the eastern slopes of the nearby mountains.

The summit of Blue Peak is reached via an extremely narrow ridge. As Todd and I stood at 13,711 feet, the next living thing we say was this bad-ass canine, joined shortly thereafter by his owner.

Some views from the summit.

Looking west towards Lost Man pass. If you look closely in the lower left hand corner of the pic, you can make out the frozen outline of Lost Man lake. We would ski right over this lake two weeks later.

The view of Geissler #3 from the peak. This mountain will have a post of its own a bit later.

Geissler #2, just to the east of Geissler #3. Again, more to come on this.

The view of Linkins Peak and Linkins Lake from the peak of Blue. I thought I'd include this picture, since Lauren and I hiked to Linkins Lake as one of our first climbs in August. Here's a picture from the summer, for comparison's sake.

A wet slide on the east side of Brumley Peak. As you can see, this one ran all the way to the ground.

Another summit shot.

My favorite picture of the entire season. This is the view of Grizzly Peak, one of the harder to reach summits near Independence Pass. Again, this will have its own post.

After looking around in awe in every direction for what felt like an hour, we finally dropped in and made some turns down the South face. Good Times.

Look Who Came to Visit!

In the unlikeliest infiltration since the Muppets took Manhattan, the Fares clan (Mom, Dad, Freddy) made the 2,000 mile journey out to Aspen to visit their baby girl and favorite son-in-law (sorry Dave), and our pupppy Maci, to whom they're fairly indifferent.

We kept the Fares family fairly busy (say that five times fast), going from dusk til dawn pretty much every day. We toured Independence Pass, hiked the Maroon Bells, shopped in downtown Aspen, and watched Freddy consume a truly remarkable amount of hamburgers.

We were having some camera difficulties, so perhaps when the Fareseses email us some additional pictures, we'll post them for your enjoyment. I can assure you, however, even without corroborating photographic evidence, that a good time was had by all, and the Fareseses have a new appreciation for the stunning beauty that is Aspen in spring.

We even took the time to celebrate Maci's four-month birthday. Freddy, who developed an unforseen bond with the puppy during the course of his stay, was particularly exuberant throughout the festivities.

Nascar Meets the Mountains?

It's been an awful busy month for the Nitti clan. And sadly, we weren't able to tell you about in "real-time," as we've been dealt an inordinate amount of technical difficulties in the past few weeks. One destroyed cell phone, two damaged laptops, a broken camera, and a faulty modem have left us incommunicado.

Well that's all fixed now (aside from my laptop: still destroyed), so let's get everyone up to speed on the various goings on at the Nitti house.

My brother Dave, his wife Jackie, and child prodigies Luke and Grace made the trek all the way from Florida on May 23rd, only to be greeted by a driving snowstorm. Here are Luke and Grace during a happier moment, spending some quality time with beloved Aunt Lauren.

Dave and Luke perched atop the Ute Trail, 1,060 feet above street level and roughly 9,000 feet above their home in Florida. It was hard work climbing the steep single track, but the flatlanders gutted it out in typical Nitti fashion.

Luke and Jackie watching TV, being guarded closely by Maci. She's very protective, as you can see.

The kids and the pup. Luckily for us, neither Luke nor Grace ever grew tired of the "Maci ringing the bell to go outside" game. I think Gracie went up and down those stairs 1,000 times in three days. God bless her.

When they weren't helping my dog poop, the Florida foursome was making the most of their time in lovely Aspen. We visited Maroon Bells, the ghost town of Ashcroft, the Reudi Resevoir, the waterfalls at the Grottos, and even stood in snow at 12,090 feet atop Independence Pass, or as Gracie affectionately named it, "Wintertown." I'd like to think they had a great time, and hopefully they'll be visiting us again soon!

Backcountry Climb/Descent #5: West Pearl Peak. If At First You Don't Suceed, Try, Try Again

Big weekend of climbing. It all started Saturday morning (or is it Friday night?) when my alarm went off at 4 AM so I could attempt to climb and ski from the summit of West Pearl Mountain at 13,356 feet.

With me as usual was my buddy Todd. This time, however, he brought along his yellow lab Kya, who brought to the table an unbridled enthusiam at this god-forsaken start time that neither Todd nor I could muster.

Todd, running a tad late, didn't pick me up until 4:30, and we reached the trailhead and started the climb an hour late. With only a 3,300 foot climb covering 4.5 miles on the docket, we didn't think the late start would hurt us, even though the temps were due to soar into the seventies and the snow could turn unstable relatively early in the day. Perhaps we grew a bit cocky from our Sopris trip, but we just assumed we could crank out the climb in a little over 2.5 hours, putting us on the summit by 8 AM and leaving plenty of time for a safe descent.

The climb followed a long, gradual trail from the start at 10,000 feet until we reached Pearl Basin at an elevation of 11,200. I didn't shoot many pictures of the initial ascent, but we did pass this beautiful waterfall that we had to stop and photograph.

By the time we reached the basin, I was in awe. With mountains rising dramatically in all directions from the wide, flat tundra on which we walked, you couldn't help but feel a bit insignificant. If I've leanred nothing else this year, it's that the mountains have a way of making one feel very, very small.

Top picture shows the route, not to mention just how alone we were out there. Bottom picture shows the long approach through the basin, West Pearl Peak barely visible in the distance.

Another pic of Todd entering the basin. In both shots, West Pearl Peak is the large mountain in the center of the shot.

Once we reached the northern flank of West Pearl Peak, we stripped off our skis, put them on our packs, and started the climb straight up the 50 degree north face. By now, it was shortly after 8AM, and as we booted up the wind-blown rib, we noticed the snow getting softer and softer under the rising sun. About forty feet up, I took a step and sunk in to my waist. Aside from being a major pain in the ass, this is an indication that the snow is really cooking, and quickly growing unstable. Even though we were only 750 vertical feet from the summit, I made the call then and there that we had to get off the mountain. Luckily, Todd was on the same page, so we put on our skis and hightailed it out of there before things got dangerous.

Lower X marks our quitting point. Upper X marks the summit at 13,356 feet.

Unfortunately, we had a 2 hour descent to think about the mistakes that cost us the summit. Didn't get up early enough. Too many breaks. Poor route finding. By the time we reached the car, we agreed that we owed it to overselves to come back on Sunday and get it right.

So at 3AM Sunday morning, Todd picked me up, and we were climbing by 4, nearly 1.5 hours ahead of Saturday's schedule. I didn't think it was possible, but the weather was even more beautiful than the day prior, with a star-filled sky hinting at the bluebird day to come.

This time, we climbed with a purpose, and reached the base of West Pearl by 6:15 AM. Again, off came the skis, and we started to boot up the steep north face. With Todd leading the way, it took us nearly 30 terrifying minutes to reach the first shelf. The snow was firm and stable, however, and we knew by this point we would make the summit. It was just a matter of one foot in front of the other.

After reaching the first shelf, we still had 600 feet to the summit. Todd and I decided to access the summit via the ridge line, rather than climbing straight up the face. The skis went back on, and at 12,700 feet, every step was exhausting as we climbed as far left as we could to access the ridge.

By now, the sun was rising directly behind us, over Mace Peak, shown below. Sadly, I ditched my camera for the second climb, as I wanted a lighter pack, so I don't have any images of the most beautiful view I've been blessed with since my arrival here last summer. Maybe next time!

We crested the ridge and summited soon after. The ridge was narrow, maybe only 10 feet in some areas. This left you feeling as if you were balancing on top of the world. At 13,356 feet, there were amazing views to be had in every direction: Mace Peak to the North, East Pearl to the East, Pyramid Peak to the South, and Candle Peak to the West.

After summitting, we took our time, geared up, and enjoyed some of the nicest turns I've had all year. We were able to ski all the way down to 10,800 feet, leaving us only a short walk from our car.

As we reached the trailhead, the three of us could take pride in our accomplishment. We had climbed over 7,000 feet in two days, with not much sleep to rely on for energy.

Here's Kya, basking in the success of her first 13,000 foot summit. She's an impressive dog, as she had to slog through some rather wet, heavy snow on both the way up and the way down. You're probably wondering, where was my puppy Maci through all of this?

Enough said.

Home

Funny thing...Lauren and I have lived in our townhouse for five months now. But for some reason, only with a puppy asleep on the couch does it truly feel like a home.

Maci Nitti: The Formative Days

You know, courtesy of a faulty Nitti gene pool stretching back generations, it's extremely possible my children will be neither bright, athletic, nor particularly attractive. That being the case, Lauren and I have quickly made peace with the fact that our puppy Maci is the best opportunity we will ever have to play the role of annoying, overbearing, "my kid is the greatest" Little League parents.

So along those lines, here's Maci at a shade over 11 weeks, exhibiting her stunning repertoire of mastered trickery. The sit, the paw, the lay down, and the ultimate crowd-pleaser, the roll over.


Pretty neat, huh? We'll, you ain't seen nothing yet. Maci was potty-trained by 10 weeks. However, Lauren and I were concerned that the layout of our townhome would serve as an obstacle to Maci's future development. You see, we have steep stairs leading down to our back door, which makes it difficult for Maci to let us know when she's got to take care of business.

The solution?

Lauren came up with the brilliant idea of hanging a bell from the back door knob. For a full day, every time we took Maci outside to pee or poop, we would brush her nose on the bell on the way out the door, followed by some exuberant encouragement.

By the next day, she had figured out the bell=poop connection. Which leads us to where we are now...


I've gotta' say, I find this rather impressive at her stage of development. It has bought us a great deal of freedom; we can now leave Maci out of her crate to explore the house, knowing that when nature calls, she'll break away from whatever she's doing, walk down the stairs, and give the bell a little ring. Heck, I've even seen her leave the middle of her dinner, run downstairs, ring the bell, poop, and promptly return to her kibble without breaking stride. (Editors note: in this video, Maci was just awakening from a 2-hour nap. She struggles to get moving, much like her mother.)

It's times like these, I'm pretty confident we have a genius on our hands.

Other times, not so much...