Trailwork

Spring is a great time to get after trailwork. It is easy to see drainage issues, the ground hasn’t become summer cement and there aren’t any bugs! Last fall Rob and I did a bunch of work on the Skyline Trail in Jackson, and now that the snow has melted, it looks like we are going to have another go at it!

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Axes, and Hoes Oh My!

How do you get involved in trailwork, you ask? A lot of trailwork, you can do without any tools. See a stick on the trail that is waiting to eat someone’s derailleur? Throw it out of the way! If there is a small tree across the trail and you happen to own a silky saw (the best things ever) and carry it with you (I do in the spring), you can make easy work of it. For drainage and larger trees, it is best to find the facebook group that covers that section of trail and make a trailwork party out of a section. Everyone loves cold beers and getting their hands dirty making the biking world a better place. Plus the next time you shralp that section of trail, you will just know. Trust me.

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These guys know

One Tough Cookie

Growing up, I always knew my mom was a tough cookie. She would pick me up when I fell, but didn’t insulate me from learning from my own experience. She let me get a D in school, and let me crash on my brother’s longboard. She let me ski even when she would cover her eyes when I raced. I hope to be as tough as her, to hold back from always breaking someone’s fall. In the short term it may have lessened my frustration or short term pain, but in the long term I would not have functioned independently without my parent’s constant guidance.

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When I did ask for help, she was always there, hell or high water. She rubbed my back all night after I broke my leg. She carried countless bags of ice to my room and was a sounding-board to endless venting all throughout my life (and certainly a few tantrums) She helped me move all my furniture so that I could de-mold my off campus house in college, then helped me get dressed the next summer when I spent ten weeks in a hospital bed rehabbing from a bike accident.

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She is the bright spot on a dark day, which has always made sense since her favorite color is yellow. I once asked her why her favorite color was yellow, and she replied that if the world is daisy yellow, you can’t help but be happy. I couldn’t agree more.

Unfortunately, my mom is proving in one more way that she is the toughest this year by going through full ACL reconstruction, but I look forward to early July, when the summer flowers start to come into full bloom, and we can go on some more bike rides together.

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The Claws

The backcountry off Teton Pass is heavily trafficked, but you would be surprised how concentrated that traffic is around the closest tours. I guess it isn’t that surprising considering you hike less and ski more downhill with the closer lines, but I enjoy the touring part of ski touring. So I will often head out to the Claws, or even further. This weekend, since both Rob and I were recovering from the Jackson crud, we settled for the Claws and Avy Bowl.

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Did I say settle? I guess that is what you call settling when you live in Jackson 🙂

Family Time

It is always great to get back to Steamboat. In my eyes, Steamboat is the greatest family resort. With one central base area, my parents felt fine having me rip the mountain, knowing that I would eventually funnel to the bottom at the end of the day, tired and ready to eat heaping plates of pasta and elk bolognese. Growing up, Steamboat never failed to continue to challenge my skiing from top to bottom from White Out bump runs to airing into the Chutes. Most importantly though, the locals are quick to turn a cold chair lift ride into a fun conversation.

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Every season I live away from Steamboat, the more excited I am to come back home for vacation with the family. Events like night skiing, tubing and friday night art walks are among the highlights of my youth. Going downtown with the family for a walk on the Core Trail or to watch ski jumping while catching up on life still make my time in Steamboat a highlight. 

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