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South Sister Summit Attempt
Feb 4, 2010 11:11 AM by Bombchaser

Broad Peak (8047-M)
Feb 7, 2010 1:41 AM by Afzal

A Capitol Winter by Kiefer Thomas Each mountain has its own, distinctive identity. For the non-mountaineer, looking at pictures of various mountains or non-descript panoramas of mountain ranges, it would beg the question as to why such mountainous terrain would be any more special & precious then say, coastal areas, desert steppe, canyon country or miles and miles of grasslands? And to be fair about it, it isn’t. Anyone who’s seen places like Inner Mongolia, The Icelandic Interior, The Grand Canyon or the Pawnee National Grasslands knows these places are just as special and indeed, precious. But the mountains are what I know. I’ve grown up on a steady diet of 9,000ft (2.743m) to 14,000ft (4.267) peaks and equally cacophonous terrain. Multiple summers of cragging and scrambling segue into winters of snowshoeing, skiing and camping. This directly fuels my appetite for all things vertical. And it’s true. Every mountain does have an identity and character. There are as many Anthony Hopkins and Ian Holm comparisons as there are Aleister Crowley and Sid Vicious. And as far as natural basaltic, granite and sedimentary temperaments (Maroon Bells anyone?), each mountain can have mood swings. Capitol Peak is arguably Colorado’s hardest 14er. Winter adds a whole new dimension that few are willing to experience. [more]

Hiking in the Falkland Islands by vancouver islander The last two weeks of November saw my wife and me once again in the wild and wonderful Falkland Islands. A previous visit in 2005 was mostly to see the incomparable wildlife in the Islands whilst trying not to eat too much without offending the locals’ incredible hospitality. We had plenty of opportunity to recognise, however, that with their open, trackless terrain the Islands would make a superb hiking destination and we accordingly made this the principle focus of our latest trip down there. Falkland Island mountains are neither high nor rugged. They’re more like high heathland topped by ridge-like tors, not unlike Dartmoor in the UK or certain areas of Tasmania. What challenge is lost to simple lack of height, however, is more than made up for by the conditions. There are no trails. Risk of hypothermia is ever present. The constant frigid wind, uninterrupted on its passage from the Antarctic, can literally blow you off your feet. “Summer” weather includes sunshine one minute and a snowstorm/white-out the next. There are no trees and the mountainsides are mostly bare and open to the wind with limited possibilities for shelter in an emergency. Not, in the sparsely populated Falklands, that getting hold of anyone in an emergency would be likely anyway. On all hikes I carried clothing appropriate to climbing something more akin to Mt Rainier and often used all of it. [more]

The Beast of the East by Son of Hendrick The plan was to meet in Boston around 6 at night and hopefully leave shortly thereafter and then take the long 5-6 hour drive up to Millinocket. However, as we all know plans rarely if ever come to fortune like that; we ended up leaving Melrose after waiting for everyone to pack up at around 8 at night. After that the miles went on and on until we got up to Maine and then it seemed as if we left the mountains and entered into snow machining land with a bunch of pine trees and no hills whatsoever. The long drive ended with us getting lost in Millinocket and eventually finding the way with help from back home. After we packed up and fixed the sleds in the parking lot we started hiking at around 5am and the long haul began. The first few miles went very slowly, the sleds just kept on tipping over and we had to readjust them every single time they did tip over. After countless readjustments the sun broke and we started over the 2-mile long esker with our first views of Katahdin to the right of us. After that the only other landmark and noticeable thing along the trail was a mile marker that said 6.8 miles. Those next 6.8 miles were the killer and we ended up going around 1 mile per hour with no views of our objective and no landmarks to see how far we had made it. The sign at Roaring Brook was one of the most beautiful sights of the day, as I strolled in with Paul my pace quickened and I smiled for the first time in 6.8 miles. Once we got all checked in with the rangers and chose our lean-to the fun began with the nighttime ritual of boiling water, eating, and getting ready for bed. Once the sun went down we were knocked out, we slept like babies all night long until Paul woke up in the middle of the night yelling that there was a moose in the lean-to. After much deliberation we realized that it was just Reggie and a duffle bag making the midnight stroll behind us. When we all settled down the cold night, -15* F, was made even colder when our water bottles cooled down. [more]

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