Chapter 10 08／Advance to Utah

People always say that to live is to find the meaning of life, but I don't think that's the case.I think what we are pursuing is a kind of living experience. The physical life experience will resonate in our life and reality, so we can truly feel the joy of living. Joseph.Joseph Campbell * Throughout the winter of 2003, my focus was on the nine mountains above 4,000 meters that I planned to climb, and I adjusted my physical fitness every week to adapt to the next challenging mountain.Climbing these mountains, besides being a rewarding trip in nature, also served as winter training so that I would be in good physical condition for Denali's important trip.I learned in the Stray Dog Expedition Course in 2002 that mountains over 6,000 meters high require a clear understanding of every detail of back-to-back climbing, including solo climbing within 24 hours.After winter passed, I also ended this season's alpine planning and training, and then turned my attention to cross-country skiing.

Once, my friend and colleague Rick.Inman was skiing on Thorpress Mountain near Colorado.We did a day of skiing on the moderate slopes on Thomas Lake, going down the less steep, less steep slopes, very safe.It feels so much better than when I got my friends and myself into trouble a month ago.This trip also gave me renewed confidence in avalanche detection and hazard assessment. In late March, Gray.Robles and I race the Moose Mountain Grand Traverse.The Moose Mountain Grand Traverse is a 67km cross-country ski circuit from Coronet Peak to Aspen.To scout the route, I circumnavigated Star Peak near Aspen by myself, a forty-kilometre snow march.I want to test the equipment that will be used in the competition.In the morning, I picked up a special non-waxed metal edge cross-country ski from the company, and set off from the Ashickroe Ski Tour Center at noon.I passed through three passes before dark, covering nearly 29 kilometers, but when I passed Pearl Pass in the evening, I found myself in a place where I could not see the road at all.Halfway through Pearl Basin's main avalanche zone, I found myself spinning in circles, even though I had been careful to avoid many avalanche-starting areas and trails.I was lost on the treeline in the dark night of a snowstorm, and at this point I thought my best bet was to dig a snow cave for shelter.

It took me three tries before I found a snowdrift that was compacted by the wind and deep enough to dig a hole in.For five hours I sat in the cave I dug myself, and every twenty to thirty minutes I stuck my head out to look at the stars, mountaintops, valleys, or trees, anything that would help me orient myself.Judging from the general location, there are three valleys that I can go to, but two of them not only have no trails but are dark and densely forested.So I'd better determine the correct location first, and then look for a valley with a road.At about three o'clock in the morning, the snowstorm passed, and I could finally make out a mountain more than a hundred meters above me. Along the way, I slid over the freshly fallen snow and avoided steep slopes. The company made up an excuse for my being a few minutes late to the manager Brion.Yaft apologized.

The Moose Mountain Grand Traverse can be said to be very intense. Due to extremely cold temperatures in the first half of the race and strong winds in the second half, nearly 40% of the teams withdrew from the race.The cold and blizzard left many severely frostbitten and equipment malfunctioning.Frozen water bottles are heavy, and some contestants are also dehydrated, which is quite dangerous.In the second half of the race, Gray and I made it to the Star Peak and were the last team to leave the checkpoint.It took us eight hours and 29 kilometers to reach the pass in a temperature of minus 18 degrees.Nine and a half hours later, we were the 60th team to finish the race, with two other teams finishing behind us (one team spent the night outside, they accidentally strayed several kilometers from the route and didn't turn back until morning) .

Grey's wife and many dedicated volunteers cheered as we slid down Mount Aspen, and Grey and I spoofed kneeling on unlocked heel skateboards, crossed the finish line in the camera's flash, and received our medals, hands Laughing with a cold beer, feeling like a champion.In fact, the champions had finished the race nine hours earlier, and they might have showered and gone to bed by the time we wobbled and laughed across the finish line. Two weeks later, I took a solo trip to Cathedral Peak and climbed and skied the small canyon east of its south ridge.When I climbed over 4,000 meters in the summer of 2001, I added another 60 peaks to my list.I climbed 50 of them in 2002. Of the 119 peaks above 4,000 meters, I climbed 109 in total.Cathedral Peak will be my 110th mountain in Colorado.I looked at the distance across the Riddle Creek valley from the peak, and planned to cross the 29-kilometer ridge with a difficulty level of five and a length of about 29 kilometers in May. For this reason, I specially prepared a reconnaissance report to plan this journey .

Skiing on Cathedral Peak is the most exciting skiing experience I have ever experienced. The 152-meter-long canyon is mostly only three meters wide.Thankfully, the snow softened in the bright sunshine, allowing me to connect several turns in the most technical deep valleys and relax in the flatter places.I skated past Ashcroft Pine Creek Field Kitchen at 3pm and was the last person to see it before it caught fire (related to the gas explosion).Driving back to town that day I saw fire trucks flashing on Castle Creek Road and was so confused I didn't know what had happened until I read the paper the next morning.

On the morning of April 17, I climbed the tip of Castellana (my 111th mountain) and then entered Riddle Basin near Aspen, where I skied until noon.The best thing about climbing and skiing in the Riddle Basin is that there is a hot spring with a temperature of 40 degrees Celsius at more than 3,400 meters. Although it is 12 kilometers away from the parking place of the transportation, you can take off your clothes and soak in it one time. The next day, my friend Jenna.Wrightburn and I climbed the Christ Valley on Gwandanning.I skied from the summit with alpine gear, mixing infrequently used equipment and techniques to test my skiing abilities.I drove back to Aspen that night and went out for a run the next morning, from my home in Aspen to my destination and back, which took exactly three and a half hours, followed by an eight-hour shift.Looking back at everything I've done in the past sixty hours: skiing, hiking, running, these physical trainings make me feel ready for my trip to Alaska, and these experiences will even be in my next week. During the journey, unexpected developments were indirectly caused.

Me and two friends of my mountaineering instructor, Diane and Wolfgang.Meet Stiller.They wanted to climb the Valley of the Crosses on the Santa Croce, a special cliff canyon route that ends at the 4,200-meter summit.We plan to climb in two and a half days, and there is an important ski section of 19 kilometers.It was our first excursion together, and if the trip goes well, we also plan to climb Liberty Mountain on Mount Rainier, which is more difficult. However, the day before departure, a late winter snowstorm hindered us, dropping up to twenty centimeters of snow in the central mountains.While the risk of avalanches is high, it is even more dangerous in narrow ravines.Any avalanche will wash the three of us down the hillside, and then, like a blender, along with small ice axes, crampons and other tools, will roll us into a 300-meter deep valley.By then, the question is not whether we will survive, but whether our families will be able to tell who is who after the avalanche meat grinder.

So we plan to try again in June.Diane and Wolfgang were embarrassed to know that I had asked for leave from the company for the April trip, but I didn't mind at all. In fact, the manager told me yesterday that I could take until Tuesday, so I now have five days off.I'm going tomorrow with a friend to climb Sopress Mountain, and I've been thinking about the desert there, and I'll probably head out over the mountain to the Moab area for a while. The year before, I had learned that by camping on Alaskan glaciers in June, digging snow forts, and climbing icy rock walls, I would have less time to enjoy the warm summer weather.Now that I have the opportunity to be in Utah for four days, I hope to have some summer time.

After exchanging blessings with Diane and Wolfgang, I started packing things like mountain bikes, climbing gear, and travel guidebooks for my trip to Utah.While packing, Leona, who had spent the night on the city, came home. Where are you going at this time?She is a little tipsy. I'm going skiing on Sopress Mountain in the morning. So you need these things?Everything I need to pack, including hiking and biking gear, sleeping bags, and backpacks, is piled up in the middle of the living room. I'm going to Utah, and I haven't really figured out what to do yet.The original Santa Croce mountaineering trip was cancelled.

Oh, how unlucky. Well, not so bad luck.I've always thought of the desert to warm up, ride a dirt bike along the way, and check out some canyons.A friend told me there was a party in Goblin Hollow on Saturday, and I might go to it, and maybe the whole town would party all weekend. The last ski area in Aspen was closed on Monday.Because of work, residents do not often leave the valley during the busy season, but from late April to the end of May, when the highway opens to the outside world, the pace of the town becomes very slow, and people flock to Mexico, Thailand , Bahamas and Utah these warmer regions.So, now is also the time for me to move outside. I picked up my friend Brad from Aspen as I drove through the sixty centimeters of snow on the Sopress Mountain Interchange at about four in the morning that night, and the truck was like a 4WD We were very excited along the way, and felt that it was rare to be able to drive all the way to the mountain entrance at such an early time. Around 5:30 there was a twilight above where we were standing, revealing the unclear weather on the tree line.Although there was still the possibility of an avalanche, this trip was less jittery than my previous plans.Even if an avalanche in the basin puts a damper on it, I'm ready to head home, and so is Brad. Mount Thorpeuse has the rare quality of having two peaks about 800 meters apart, each of which is exactly 3,960 meters high.We settled for a safe route to the eastern peak and climbed a steep north-facing ridge over the lake.Visibility of only three meters and thin snow hindered our plan to ski down the mountain from the summit.So we hid our ski gear at about 3,500 meters and climbed into the thick clouds. We lost our senses in a thick fog that turned everything we could see into a dull white wall.We left a wide position on the steep cliff to the right, which forced us to encounter a cornice at 3,900m.I groped my way up the packed snow, kicking out my footholds with my boots, and the near-zero visibility made the top of the cornice dim.Brad had a harder time climbing than I did because he was wearing soft snowboard boots, and I lent him the ice ax and he was able to climb it just fine. We reached the east summit at 8:30am and took a picture of Brad's 15cm goatee, covered in a thick layer of frost. We went back to where we hid our ski gear, then continued down the ridge to the basin and back to the trail we had come up.The layers of new and old snow combined perfectly and we thought it was worth a second stop.We went up to the front of the basin, and as the clouds cleared around nine to ten, we slid back down the slope again, carving a series of bends 400 meters wide.During these two hours, we used the snow as a canvas and skis as brushes to draw freely, and then sat down to share Brad's fruit rolls, just like children, enjoying this rare happiness and good time. Back down the hill to the truck, the afternoon sun melted the snow into mush, turning the snow in the parking lot and the road into mud, and the truck's wheels splashed slush on the trail, every turn seemed to throw us out .On the last slush, one of the steering wheels didn't turn properly, we were bounced out of the driveway, and I managed to stop the car before we were in the soggy forest.Brad speculates that my 4WD is not working correctly, otherwise it should be possible to get out of that situation.Soft slush and thick ice grounded us, tires idling desperately for an hour and a half.It wasn't until Brad's girlfriend Leah arrived with a tow rope that rescued us.Thanks to my cell phone, I got my truck out of trouble. Brad and Leah were heading to Silverton to McCuller Pass, and I was driving west down to Glenwood Springs.I drove for three hours on the highway, researching guidebooks about Moab and canyons near the Green River.I plan to call Brad on Saturday to ask about the way to the Goblin Hollow Party, and as I mull over possible routes, I figure I'll be cross-country biking on the Slippery Rock Trail to Moab in the morning, followed by After six or so canyon hikes, you can reach the desert party area in Goblin Valley.After driving eight kilometers along Interstate 70, passing through Thompson Springs, Utah, I pulled off the interstate and into a rest area, backing the truck into the darkest spot between two 18-meter-tall lampposts. The parking space, put the sleeping bag on the bed of the pickup truck, climbed in, and fell asleep. On Friday morning, I drove 48km south into Moab so I could do a full day of off-road biking on the Slippery Rock Trail.The Slippery Rock Trail is one of the most popular bike trails in Utah because of its nearly twenty kilometers of technical sandstone challenges with only a handful of obstacle bunkers and expansive views of the Colorado River Canyon along the way, plus It is also very close to the center of Moab.Before leaving, I looked back at the truck parked at the bike trail, laughing out loud because there were skis on the roof rack, but not a grain of snow for eighty kilometers. I rode forward and quickly caught up with a team of quad bikes, and not long after, they were riding a very technical spot, which was beyond my ability.In addition, I rode forward into a crevice of a vertical rock about three meters high. The bicycle suddenly fell to one side.It was my first time riding sandstone and I still had a lot to learn, but I was able to jump off the blasting bike in time every time. In order to improve my cycling skills, some skills need to be practiced three or four times.I imitated a cyclist and went to a steep sandstone hill fifteen meters high, and stood on the pedals all the way to push the weight of my body on the handlebars.And the tires didn't slip.After that I struggled to accelerate in the lowest gear and climbed onto the sandstone.I managed to avoid slipping, because I knew that if it slipped, my little brother would hit the bend of the handlebar. After riding thirteen kilometers, I can already ride six, seven, or even eight laps neatly.But just as I was getting more and more confident in my riding skills, I fell into a sand trap.The bike stacked on top of my feet, back and neck, with the handlebars on top of my head.I wriggled and managed to free myself, but my feet were entangled behind me, and my right foot was still glued to the upturned bicycle pedal.I was pinned down in surprising fashion by a two-round wrestling champion.I laughed to my gritty self, not knowing whether to be relieved that no one saw my embarrassment or disappointed that no one laughed with me. At the end of the day, both excited and tired.I sat in the truck, checking out canyon guides for information about Black Boy Bill Canyon, a three-kilometer hike to the sixth-longest natural bridge in the United States.Before dusk, I had enough time to drive to the trailhead and jog to the bridge, when the light was the best for taking pictures. On previous excursions to Utah, I would ride a one- or two-hundred-kilometer route on a mountain bike and hike a sixty-kilometer canyon in one day.While these excursions are fascinating enough, I always take my camera with me to capture the views of the stars and images of rock carvings and large crypts with surreal shapes, fascinating colors and cultural legends. The hike in Black Boy Bill Canyon used up half a dozen of my negatives, as did the Natural Bridge.One of my favorite photos is of the blue sky and russet desert walls reflected in a calm mirrored pool surrounded by green reeds and pastures.Hiking still keeps me entertained, but my photography urge is even more satisfying, and I want to see more rock carvings. I've pinned down the Chicken Coop Bandit area east of Havasupai for my Saturday adventure, but I haven't decided which canyon to climb yet.I wanted to find a proper resting place for the Saturday night rally. The chicken coop is ideal because it's only two hours from Moab, and two hours from Goblin Hollow, and I won't be back in an area with shops for two days, so I have to go before leaving civilized areas. , store some water and food first.I snapped the pages of the guidebook where Robber's Chicken Coop has the best chance of seeing the slots and rock-carved Three Canyons, and refueled for a long desert adventure. I left Moab in the evening and drove north onto the interstate.I put together the manuals of the two adjacent canyons. Through this observation, I decided to start from the truck stop at the trailhead of Canyonlands National Park to the front of Blue Eye John Canyon, and ride a 24-kilometer bicycle for a ride. After crossing two narrow and deep slots, abseil down twenty meters, then out to the confluence of Horseshoe Canyon, past the rock carvings of the large murals, and finally back to the truck. About forty-eight kilometers a day.I reckon that if I start at nine in the morning, I should be out at five in the afternoon. I was at 260 kilometers off Interstate 70, off the freeway toward Green River, and saw a sign 117 kilometers west for the next available gas station and food supply station.I stopped at a convenience store in Green River and was considering whether to call Brad and Leah to make final checks on the Goblin Hollow party. But since it was late, I didn't call (you can ask the next day anyway), Brad has to go skiing in the morning, and I didn't want to wake them up.I bought two bottles of sports drinks in the store, and then walked back and forth on the main street of Green River, only to find the connecting road to the Bureau of Land Management south out of the town. I pass a yellow, aluminum-sided building southwest of the Green River that's the Emory County Sheriff's Office.After turning right onto Airport Road, you continue under the interstate into an unremarkable, unlit San Rafael desert. I drove through the reed arrays growing on the road, thinking that their existence should be attributed to the resilience of life?Or a sign of loose road maintenance?It was just after ten o'clock in the evening, and a sign pointed out that to the San Rafael desert, we had to go another seventy-five kilometers.When I passed a yellow triangle warning that the road may be impassable due to the storm, my truck was running over a tumbleweed, and a jackrabbit suddenly rushed in front of the vehicle, left and right on the road The ground and I compared speed, and then rushed back to the barren grass.It makes me feel like I've driven off the beaten track. Driving quickly on the swamp, I unknowingly drove into a small dry river, I turned left blindly, and found that the road was blocked again.The rear of the truck shook violently, and there were many bends, dives and flying sand along the way, which almost made the car go off track.I felt like I was driving an off-road race car, and the stuff in the driver's seat was rolling around to the rock music on the stereo.I also drove with my headlights on to help see ahead of the next turn, although they didn't seem to help much. From the window on the left, the constellation of Perseus is clearly visible, the road occasionally passes the warning line of the livestock ditch, and the bright yellow railing that surrounds the road shows that it has been recently painted, which tells me that the land is still in use, although In this way, there is still no light that can break the barrenness.At this time, a beer bottle appeared in front of the headlights, and the right front wheel hit the bottleneck, causing it to jump and hit the bottom of the truck.I think of Edward the desert hermit.Haiduk, the protagonist of Abbey's book "Monkey Crooked Gang", protested the existence of the road by throwing beer bottles. At a speed of more than sixty kilometers per hour, I galloped through the swamp, through a low-shrub forest, and drove forward in the dark. A small brown sign suddenly flashed out of the corner of my eye, pointing out that the road leads to Horseshoe Canyon.I took a fairly bumpy drive and found a place to rest near the welcome sign in Canyonlands National Park. That's it for tonight.Lying in the truck, I gradually fell asleep, looking forward to the trip to the Blue Eyed John Horseshoe Trail tomorrow morning, and the truck and I would be like listening to a lullaby, swaying with the wind in the canyon.