Vail Ski Vacation 2007

My brother Jesse and I will be leaving for Vail on Sunday morning, Feb 4.
We arrive in Denver around noon their time, and then drive up to Avon where we will be staying.
We are going to be there through Sat Feb 10, so we have 6 days of skiing to look forward to.
Vail has received some new powder during the week, so the skiing should be great!
We are both looking forward to getting back into Pete's Bowl. It is the furthest back bowl in Vail.
Skiing is gladed with lots of powder! Very picturesque as well, so the camera will be getting a workout.

I will try to get onto my page from the hotel computer to update this from day to day.

Close to the edge

The trail ascended through thick pines. The fresh smell of pine and the wind through the tops of the trees made me feel peaceful. At peace with myself, and at peace with the universe.
I was alone at 5,000 feet. The summit lay only a mile of trail and two hundred vertical feet away now. Patches of snow frequented the grass and brush along the trail, but walking was easy. There were some muddy spots, but most of the ground was frozen.

About halfway to the summit, the trail came out along a ridge with a precipitous drop on the left.
The wind was blowing harder now. Getting around the tight spots along the cliff required careful footing, as there was some ice. I thought of stopping to don crampons, but I found small trees to grab onto. I made my way around the narrowest of the cliff walk. Looking down I could see the tops of large trees. It looked like a fall would be fatal.

All of that behind me now, the only obstacle that lay between me and the summit at 5200 feet was about 1/3 mile of trail and that 200 foot climb. It was fairly steep, but steps had been cut into the rock in some places.

A quick 15 minutes later I was standing on the summit, in a full gale. The wind blew from the northwest, making it seem even colder. I removed the heavy pack from my back and sat on it.
I wasn't cold, but this was not a place to dwell.
I took out my Nikon digital camera and shot the world around me. Unfortunately, there was no one else here, or I would have grabbed a photo of myself on the summit.

Just as I began my descent on the other side of the mountain, I saw something move among the trees. A bear? I hardly thought it could be a bear at this time of year and in a place like this.
But then I recalled seeing a photo from Mt. Washington New Hampshire of a moose on the summit. Would a bear be any less likely?

I walked slowly towards the woods where I had seen the movement. I didn't see anything.
Perhaps whatever it was had retreated to it's den or whatever place it lived.
The trail entered the woods from the rocky summit ridge. Snow began to fall.

As I descended through thick forest in the increasingly heavy snow, I did not see anything in the trees. It appeared that I was alone. I was protected from the winds of the summit now that I had gone among the trees again.

But just as I rounded a sharp bend in the trail, I saw it. A huge black bear!
The bear couldn't have been more than thirty feet from me. I froze. My heart began to pound in my chest. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. What were the chances of encountering a bear on the summit of this unnamed peak in November when bears were supposed to be sound asleep.
But this wasn't New Hampshire or Vermont. It was Maine, and there were lots of bears up here.
Still, it was hard to believe that I was having this encounter when most of the bears must have gone into hibernation by now. Then again, it has been a warmer than normal fall, and I would suppose that the black bear might stay around longer in these conditions.

He stood about 30 feet from me. So far he didn't look angry or frightened. He (or she) was just checking me out.
But suddenly the bear began to make a sort of grunting noise. It advanced a few steps towards me then stopped. I stood frozen in fear for a moment. Then my senses began to filter back.
I needed to make some loud noises. So I started jumping around and shouting loudly in low tones.
The bear seemed interested, but didn't move away. Not yet.
I continued making loud noises.
I was wearing a very large backpack, so to the bear I must have looked like a large animal. I wondered whether I should start backing away.
I began taking small steps backwards, all the while facing the bear and making loud noises.

I was relieved to see him turn and start to walk away. I continued to back away, making noise.
I was now about 50 feet away from him.
I was backing up the trail in the direction I had come. The snow was getting heavier. It was getting difficult to see.

Then, without warning the bear began to charge at me. I froze for a moment, then started jumping and making even louder and more aggressive noises. But the bear kept coming.
He was moving more slowly now, but only 20 feet from me.
I started to leave the trail and move towards the cliff's edge.
I remembered reading that if you are being chased by a bear, climb a cliff. Apparently bears cannot climb cliffs.

I got closer to the cliff, peering over the edge. I didn't see any way I was going to get away.
The bear was still moving in my general direction, despite my noisy retreat.
I took another look over the edge of the cliff, and then I saw it. Behind me there was a ledge about four feet down. It was about two feet wide.
I thought I should remove my pack, but didn't think I had the time. I eyed the cliff, and the ledge. It was too far down for me to step onto. I would have to jump. But the heavy pack would probably pull me off and send me all the way to the base, at least a hundred feet down.

The bear continued to move slowly towards me. He was only about ten feet from me now. It was strange that he wasn't really charging me, but at the same time he wasn't backing away.
It seemed like he knew I had no route of escape, and was interested in seeing what i would do.

I thought of how I could use a strong piece of rope. I could tie one end to a nearby tree, and the other end around my waist so that if I did slip off of the ledge I wouldn't fall all the way down.
But I did not have any rope.
I had to get rid of the pack. There was no way in Hell I could make that 4 foot jump with 50 pounds on my back.
If I had more time, I could have opened the pack and selected a few items I wanted to take with me. But I didn't have that luxury now.

I unclipped the straps and slipped out from under the pack, leaving it at the edge of the cliff.
Then, as the bear was only five feet from me, I slipped over the lip of the cliff, allowing my feet to reach the ledge before I had let go of the rock with my hands.
Once safely on the ledge, I surveyed my new position.
The ledge sloped downwards behind me, then it looked as though it narrowed from about two feet to one foot wide.
The rock face was full of cracks and pocks that would make good hand holds.

Still facing the bear, which was now peering at me from above I backed along the ledge, moving lower as I went. My head went below the lip of the cliff, and I felt safer. I was going out of it's reach.
I reached the narrowing, and by now my head was a good five feet below the lip. I wondered whether my friend could still reach me. But he wasn't making any attempt to do so. He almost seemed to be losing interest in me. Instead he was now playing with my pack.

As I stood on the one foot wide ledge about ten feet below the lip of the cliff, I watched as the bear began ripping into my pack. I was horrified at the thought that my expensive new Nikon digital camera was still in the pack. But I wasn't going to consume myself worrying about something that could be replaced. I had seemingly gotten away with my life.

I wondered whether I would be able to return to the top of the cliff once the bear had lost interest and gone back into the woods, or that I might have to continue descending along this ledge. But looking in the direction that the ledge took, I saw that it stopped descending, and became even more narrow. It also looked like there were breaks in the ledge. I really hoped that I wouldn't have to take that route.

Suddenly I saw my pack fly out over the lip of the cliff, then down through the trees to the ground a hundred or more feet below.
I didn't see anything fly out of it, although it was hard to tell whether the animal up top had removed anything from it. Perhaps he had picked the pack up in his teeth and flung it, not knowing it would go flying.
But fly it did. I wondered whether my Nikon had survived the fall. I thought it might have. It was packed in it's own case, and then between the sleeping bag and tent.
I supposed I would find out eventually, when this ordeal ended and I was able to get down there.

I watched the lip of the cliff. I didn't see the bear anymore. Was he playing games with me? Waiting up there back from the edge just far enough that I wouldn't see him?
I doubted that the black bear was so smart. But maybe just this one.
I stood on the ledge for what seemed an eternity. It was getting cold and the snow was really coming down.

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Retreat

After some amount of time (I was beginning to lose track of just how much time had passed standing down here on my ledge) I started back up the ledge in the direction I had come. I thought my cuddly friend would have lost interest in me by now and I would be able to climb back up onto the lip and head back down the trail.

I was horrified by what I saw up there.
Not only was the bear still up there, but now there were three black bears. One large which I assumed to be a male, a smaller one I thought might be his 'wife', and a third even smaller that might have been an older cub.
The three bears were standing on the edge of the forest, about twenty feet back from the ledge.
The biggest one spotted me, and came darting towards me. I quickly retreated further down along the ledge. I saw the bear stick his nose over the ledge, then reaching with it's paw.

I was horrified. This bear really wanted to kill me, I thought. This all seemed so unreal I thought I must be having a terrible nightmare. I was waiting for something really strange to happen, as would in a dream. But nothing did.
I continued to retreat along the shelf back to the narrowing where I had spent the last half hour, or maybe it was a lot longer. I looked at my watch. It was 3:15. I had about 1-1/2 hours of daylight left.

It was now obvious to me that I was not going to get back up on the trail. I was going to find a way down off of this cliff or would have to spend the night up here. I was not prepared for that. My emergency space blanket was in my pack, about a hundred feet below me. In my coat pockets I had... what did I have?
I had my cell phone. Suddenly feeling a sense of relief, I pulled the phone out of my pocket. I flipped the cover open and looked at the display.

NO SERVICE.

So much for that, I thought, feeling very dejected.
I stood on the ledge looking out into the forest in front of me. I looked down towards the tree tops. From where I was standing, I estimated that I was about twenty feet above the highest tree top. I figured that the pines were about thirty to fifty feet tall, so I was anywhere from fifty to seventy feet above the ground.

I paused to think. Panic started to build. I pushed it back, allowing rational thought to return.
I lay down on the ledge with my head turned so that I was looking down along the cliff face.
I tried to see, but the light was dim. I lay there for a few minutes while my eyes adjusted and I was able to see more detail of the cliff face.
I saw what looked like it could be another shelf about ten feet or so down. This shelf looked a lot narrower than the one I was now lying on. But if I could climb down and just get my feet planted there, with my hands in cracks or knobs of rock I would be able to stand.

I took another look, and found several places on the rock where I thought I could place my feet. Perhaps I would have to remove my hiking boots, so that my toes could grab onto a small outcropping or fit into a small crack. But the prospect of removing my warm shoes and socks didn't sound all that good. My toes would soon be too cold to move, rendering them useless even if they would fit into a crack in the rock.

How I longed for that fifty feet of climbing rope I had thought of buying before I left for this trip. Even without proper climbing experience, I thought I had read enough mountaineering stories to fix a knot and secure a repel line. And if I had that rope, I would have had it slung over my shoulder, not in my pack so I would still have it now. But I didn't have the rope.

I saw what looked like a foothold large enough to accept my hiking boot about five feet below my current position. If I could hang down off of this shelf and get my foot into that slot, I would be able to reach the shelf with my hands and support myself on the rock.

I had no choice. The ledge didn't go much further along the wall. It broke up after about twenty feet.
The position I was now in was not all that bad. There were large pine trees not far from the cliff, which I might be able to jump over to if I could not find my way down the rock. Once in the tree, I should be able to hang from one branch, pull myself down to another one lower down, and make my way down the tree.

I didn't have any time to procrastinate. If I was going to get down off of this ledge and to safety below, I was going to free climb the wall. It seemed a bit funny that I had never done any climbing in my life, except when I was a kid and used to climb the trees in my back yard, and here I was about to free climb (to climb without the use of safety ropes) a vertical wall.
Who would believe me when I finally got home, and back to work that a family of black bears had chased me off the edge of a cliff.

I removed both of my mittens and stuffed them into my pockets. I needed my fingers exposed to grab onto or into the rock on my way down.
I thought again about my boots. Perhaps I should remove them after all. Climb down in my socks? No. I would leave the boots on. They provided a rigid binding between my feet and the rock. The socks could slip off, and my bare feet would freeze and become useless.

I sat on the ledge poised to drop over the edge and begin my first rock climb. While I am not sure about my religious beliefs, I said a brief prayer. Then I hung my legs over the ledge, pushed my booted feet against the rocks, hoping to have them catch on something. They did not.
I started to lower myself down from the ledge. Oddly enough, I had no fear at this point. I felt a sort of exhilaration instead. I believed I was going to get down, and would soon be on the ground pitching my tent and looking forward to a wonderful sleep.

I was now hanging with my arms on the ledge and the rest of my body against the rock. I kicked my boots into the rock, looking for that hold I thought I had seen.
If it wasn't there, I might have to pull myself back up. I wasn't sure I would be able to do that. I didn't have a whole lot of strength in my upper body. Being a runner there was no real need for that.
I lowered myself a little further. Still neither of my boots caught anything. I began swaying from side to side, searching for that something my boots could catch.

I was now hanging from the ledge with my arms up to the elbows still on the ledge. My fingers were firmly planted on irregularities on the rock ledge. I was beginning to ache.
I had to slip further down now.
Suddenly I was hanging from the ledge with only my fingers gripping the rock outcroppings on the ledge.
I kicked my boots around on the rock below. Still I could not find those holes.
I knew I had seen some irregularities in the rock, and thought they had been holes or miniature grottos where I could place my feet. But maybe I was wrong. I could have imagined what I had seen, given that the light wasn't good.

I moved my feet first to the left and did not find anything to plant them into or onto.
Then to the right. First I was close to panic when my right foot failed to find anything. But my left foot found it. The boot caught on a small crack. It wasn’t very deep, but enough for the boot to find purchase.
I let my weight fall onto that foot, feeling delicious relief from the strain of hanging by my hands.

I really wanted my right foot to find something, but for now one foot would have to do.
After I had recovered some of my strength, I started moving my left hand off of the ledge and down along the rock to locate anything I could grab onto.
My right hand was still on the ledge. My left found a small knob on the rock. I curled my fingers onto it, and felt a rush of adrenaline. I was actually doing this!
I was no longer aware of the snow falling. My body had shut off all senses it did not need. It had gone into an automatic survival mode. There was no pain in my fingers as they gripped the cold rock. There were no distractions in my head. No voices, no worries.
My life was one second at a time for now. I was alive now, and I wanted to be alive for the next second. It all depended on my hands and my feet.

I moved my right hand down off of the ledge and found a crack into which I pushed my fingers.
My arms were no longer fully extended, so I could begin to lower my right foot, the one which had not found purchase to search for another foothold.
Lowering my body ever so slowly I allowed the right foot to scan the wall back and forth, up and down.
My elbows were nearly straight again when my right foot found a crack. This one was larger than the one my left foot had found. I punched my boot into the crack and rested there for a minute.
Then I pulled my left foot from it’s security and sent it to look for another hold.
It was useless to look at the rock, as the light was so dim now I could not see any features of the rock wall.
Behind me the tops of the trees were getting closer. I had climbed down only a few feet so far, but at least I was making progress.
Then my left foot did find it’s home. Another crack.

I rested for a good three minutes there. Then I pulled my right hand from it’s home and began searching for something lower down. Almost immediately I found another hold about shoulder height.
Next I removed my left foot and kicked further down. To my astonishment, I found a hold within seconds.
With my right hand and left foot firmly planted at lower points, I pulled my left hand from it’s hold and found another just above shoulder height and about a foot further to the left. I had to stretch my arm to reach this one.

Slowly I made my way down the cliff face in this manger.
Hand to opposite foot. Keep my balance.
I looked up towards the ledge, and was pleased to see that I had really put some distance above me.

My progress was steady for a while, but then slowed as the holds became laterally more distant, requiring more stretching and moving horizontally on the rock.. But by now I was below the tree tops. If I really had to I thought I could jump into the trees.
I didn’t want to have to do that though. It would be a very dangerous move; As though what I was presently engaged in was not.

After a three minute rest, I continued my progress towards the safety of the earth below.
There were several really scary moments when the holds were seemingly out of my reach. But a little more stretching, and I would find something.
My fingers were bleeding now. The outer skin worn away by the rough and even sharp rock surfaces I was forcing them to grab onto.
That was OK though. I could take care of them with the medical kit that was in my pack, which I fully expected to find nearby when I reached the ground.

It was getting dark now. I could hardly see the trees but knew that I was not very high anymore.
I didn’t want to let go and jump before I knew where the ground was.
I started to hear the sound of running water. That was good. I was going to need a water source for my meals.

Maybe I was becoming a bit too complacent because I knew that I was getting close to the ground. I was not nearly as careful anymore. At one point my boot slipped and I nearly plunged to the ground. But I held on with my fingers and was able to get the foot into position once more.

Five minutes later my feet were on the ground! I had a feeling of elation, of bliss, of triumph. I felt as though I had just won the New York Marathon!
I sat down against one of those trees for a long time. I felt more peaceful and happy than I had ever felt before. I felt… new.

I began searching for my backpack. After climbing sometimes horizontally along the cliff face, I didn’t know how far I had gone from the point where the bear had tossed it over.
I walked along the cliff looking around in the darkness. It did not seem likely that I would find it, but I had to. Without the pack I had no place to sleep and nothing to eat.

It was completely dark when I stumbled upon my pack. It was quite some distance from where I had finally reached ground again.
I opened the pack and removed the sleeping bag. My Nikon camera was in it’s pack lying on top of the tent.
I pulled it out and laid the camera pack against the tree.
Then I pulled the tent from the pack.
With the help of my headlamp I erected the tent in about half an hour.
Once I had done this, I threw the sleeping bag in and picked up the camera bag and brought it inside the tent.
At this point I wasn’t really worried about the camera, but I was fairly certain that it was going to be OK. It was. No apparent damage. I turned the camera on and stepped outside the tent facing the cliff. I took several photos looking upwards using the camera’s built-in flash.

I pulled out a bag of trail mix from the bear canister and began to eat. I gulped some water from one of the bottles, and lay down on top of the bag.
Then I went to sleep.