Outdoors

Last month I had the opportunity to go quail hunting at the Orapax Plantation in Goochland, VA. Having never been quail hunting before I jumped at the opportunity. Needless to say it was a blast. There isn’t a better way to spend a Saterday morning then watching the dogs work, spend time with friends, and enjoy Virginia’s beautiful countryside. The best part was I was able to test out my new MK Original Field Pants. These pants are durable, comfortable, and look great. If you’re looking for a pair of field pants I’d highly recommend looking at getting a pair of these!

When California’s pioneering state geologists – hardbitten field surveyors normally inured to the sight of wildly configured mountains in a continent of geological wonder – first clapped eyes on Yosemite’s dramatic peak of Half Dome they were amazed: “It is a crest of granite rising above the valley, perfectly inaccessible, and probably the only one of all the prominent points about Yosemite which never has been, and never will be, trodden by human foot.” Such a statement might have been calculated to provoke a five-foot tall climbing dynamo called Warren Harding. In the 1950s he was one of a new breed of determined and technically innovative Californian climbers whose exploits expanded the limits of rock climbing possibility, changing the sport forever. In 1957, Harding lost the race to ascend the alluring Half Dome to his great rival Royal Robbins. The effect was to provoke Harding to engage in battle with an even greater challenge: the soaring 1,000m granite cliff of El Capitan and its most direct line, known as The Nose. Harding devised a siege tactic based on a series of provisioned “camps” linked together by fixed ropes, running back to a ground-level supply camp. When criticized as unsporting, Harding, never a man unduly concerned with what others thought, said: “You do it your way, and I’ll do it mine.” “Harding was a devilish fellow,” described Yosemite historian Steve Roper. “Looking at his flashing eyes, his wild black hair, his jet black pants, I was fascinated. Other climbers I knew were bespectacled scientists, staid folks who would never have dreamed of wheeling up to a rock with a sports car and a beer and a flashy dame.” Harding and an interchangeable team of climbing friends were to pull off the groundbreaking climb after 47 days spread over almost 18 months. It had been an exhausting undertaking, during which Harding had come close to death when one of the threadbare fixed manilla ropes snapped, pitching him on to a ledge, miraculously just a few feet below. “I do recall that El Cap seemed to be in much better condition than I was,” Harding noted laconically after reaching the summit. In this action portrait by Glen Denny, Harding is in the middle of the last pitch of his brilliant new line on El Capitan, the Dawn Wall. He had spent 27 nights on the extreme face, living mostly in a tented hammock and consuming prodigious quantities of cheap red wine. Later that day he emerged over the top of the cliff to meet a throng of press reporters, well-wishers, and some furious Park Service rangers who had threatened both to arrest and to rescue him at various points in his epic ascent. Showmanship was an integral part of Harding’s iconoclastically wacky character. Dubbed “Batso” – after Ratso Rizzo, the diminutive misfit in the film Midnight Cowboy – Harding certainly had a style all of his own. Unlike many of his beatnik climbing peers, who eschewed regular work to climb full-time, Harding remained a weekender, wedded to a conventional career as a land surveyor. This did not stop his leading a high life of drinking, partying, fast cars, and, frankly, some pretty fast women. Beryl Knauth, a beautiful San Francisco debutante, was one of Harding’s long-term companions, whom he jokingly referred to as “one of my many formerly fine girlfriends.” To the end his scurrilous humour was incorrigible. “Climbing is no better or worse than anything else in life,” he said when asked to reflect on his achievements. “It’s just another asshole-ish, self-centred thing to do.” In case the listener might mistake him for a nihilist, however, he added, “but if I could do it all over again, I’d like to be taller and smarter.” Harding died in 2002 at age 77. This Historical Badass is excerpted from the book Mountain Heroes: Portraits of Adventure, by Huw Lewis-Jones. For m

Anticipation had built for weeks and I was finally about to get my introduction to paraglider maneuvers training in Yuba Lake, Utah.  I had been wanting to enroll in the course since I learned how to fly in Jackson Hole, Wyoming but work and life had kept me from getting it done until finally I couldn’t take it anymore and I signed up for the first week of May hoping that work and life again wouldn’t get in the way and allow me to learn better piloting skills. Long called SIV, and now just generally referred to as maneuvers training, this course involves you and your paraglider being towed behind a boat similar to parasailing except when you reach the end of the line, you release and then are coached over water on different in flight problem scenarios.  My instructor for this course was Chris Santacroce of SuperFly paragliding in Sandy, UT.   Chris is at the top of the paragliding food chain here in the U.S.  He is known not only for his skill piloting and making paragliders do things you didn’t think were possible but also for being a great teacher. The purpose of the course is to simulate problems that pilots may encounter during flight.  This could include tangles, and deflations of different types.  Rapid descent techniques are also covered, and once you release from the tow Chris is immediately on the radio offering instruction to maximize your altitude and get you as many maneuvers in as possible on your way down. As a pilot, you are always looking to improve your skills, and there is no better way than towing.  Releasing at 3,000-4,000 ft. above ground level and running through potential in-flight problems on the way down is a great way to build confidence in your flying skills and in your equipment.  We had a great weekend, and everyone at the clinic was safe and put a lot of information in their flying “bag of tricks”.

Just about a year ago, K was becoming much more sedentary as the end neared. She and I would take short walks in the morning, and then she'd watch my back while I worked on the garden. I was nurturing Columbine seedlings that had just sprouted. One of those Columbines is about to bloom. As I watch it becoming a delicate flower, it reminds me of the renewal of life, even after a heart-breaking

You can pack a lot into five miles — we’ve found slot canyons, redwoods, caving, 100-year-old via ferrate, sand dunes, summits, just to name a few. Sometimes you don’t need to hammer out 10 miles, or a full day, or really even get too far from your car to see the good stuff (or completely destroy your legs). Coast to coast, here are our picks for the best hikes under five miles (in no particular order): 1. Ding and Dang Canyon Loop, San Rafael Swell, Utah A step above “entry level” as far as canyoneering in the San Rafael Swell is concerned, Ding and Dang canyons form a loop cutting through the sandstone reef, its undulating walls closing down to as narrow as a foot wide in spots, but as high as a couple hundred feet. Depending on the level of the sediment on the floor at different spots in the canyon, a rope can be handy for climbing or descending some of the tricky scrambling spots. 2. The Narrows, Zion National Park, Utah Driving east along the Virgin River through Zion National Park, the canyon walls become steeper, higher and more dramatic until you reach the last parking lot, at the Temple of Sinawava trailhead at the back of the canyon. If you have water shoes and sturdy trekking poles or a hiking staff, the adventure starts where the trail ends — walking the riverbed back into the canyon between the skyscraper-tall walls (photo, above). Of course, the canyon is quite a bit longer than 2.5 miles, but you can get a couple miles in and turn around for a dose of hiking like nothing else in the United States. 3. Tall Trees Trail, Redwoods National Park, California Entrance to the 3.7-mile Tall Trees Trail is controlled by the Park Service and requires registration to get one of the only 50 first-come, first-served hiking permits issued each day. But then you’ll get a chance to walk around, and even into, some of the enormous redwood trees in the park, some as tall as 360 feet and 12 feet diameter. 4. Precipice Trail, Acadia National Park, Maine In 1912, Rudolph Brunnow looked at the the sheer granite cliffs on Champlain Mountain in what is now Acadia National Park and went to work, drilling holes and installing iron rungs for passage up and across the peak’s east face. One of the most famous hikes in the park today, the Precipice Trail climbs 1,000 feet over 1.6 miles and ends at the summit, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. 5. Wild Cave Tour, Mammoth Cave National Park, Kentucky OK, it’s not so much a hike as it is guided spelunking in Mammoth Cave — walking, crawling, squeezing through tight spots underground. You’ll be given coveralls to wear (to help minimize the spread of White Nose Syndrome, which has killed millions of bats in the eastern U.S.), as well as a hardhat, gloves, and headlamp for the four-hour tour through variable subterranean terrain. 6. Star Dune, Great Sand Dunes National Park, Colorado “Sand” isn’t the first answer most people say to word-association tests about Colorado, but the Great Sand Dunes are the tallest sand dunes in North America, sitting at the foot of 14,000-foot peaks at the south end of the Sangre de Cristo Range. Star Dune isn’t actually the tallest dune in the park, but it looks like it, and the sand-slog to its 650-foot “summit” takes most folks one to two hours. 7. Piestewa Peak, Phoenix, Arizona Not many cities have mountains shooting 1,500-plus feet above their streets, but Phoenix has plenty, including the uber-popular Camelback and nearby Piestewa (formerly Squaw) Peak. Both are great urban hikes, but Piestewa has a fun bit of scrambling near the top and an equally commanding view of the valley below. It’s a crusher, though, gaining 1,200-plus vertical feet in 1.2 miles. 8. Vernal Fall, Yosemite National Park, California This hike up the Mist Trail gains 1,000 feet up to one of Yosemite’s biggest and most famous waterfalls — the Merced River spills over the booming, 317-foot-tall Vernal Fall at the 1.5-mile mark. Be careful on the rock steps, which are often covered in the n

After a long awaited, month-long source to sea paddling trip was forced into submission by Mother Nature, the crew decided we would treat our heartbreak with a healthy dose of sand and salt. After making a few minor alterations to our gear list, we loaded down the rumbling rust bucket and set the compass to 180 degrees. Upon hitting the coast we took a sharp turn East to avoid the hordes of minivans and drove until the road stopped and the sea began. As we broke through the surf and paddled along the pristine beach backed by an ancient maritime forest, the feeling of leaving the World and entering Nowhere settled upon us. Minutes merged into hours, hours into days, days into oblivion. All time was lost and no cares were given. Our days scheduled around the sea instead of the clock, our meals were prepared over a driftwood fire instead of passed through a driver’s-side window by a frowning teenager, the rhythm of a harder but easier life settled into our souls and it felt as if we could go on forever.

Springtime in Utah drives a lot of folks south to thaw out after a long winter: Moab and Zion/St. George being the most popular destinations to stretch the legs on a bike or hike.  While there’s plenty of exploring and lounging to be had in both destinations, the crowds can be thick.  My favorite spot to check out down south is around Boulder, Utah, a town of around 150 off Highway 12 between Torrey and Bryce Canyon.  Capitol Reef, The Grand Staircase NM, Escalante, 11,000 foot peaks, red rock plateaus, rivers, and slot canyons surround the area.  Peace and quiet are your neighbors. Boulder is a small ranching community with one stop sign, a nice lodge and a nationally recognized restaurant, Hells Backbone Grill.  I recently took my 2 boys down over Memorial Day weekend for a few days of exploring and working on the HBG farm – a 5-acre organic track that grows all the veggies and eggs for the restaurant. The restaurant is all about “Farm to Fork” and “Clean Food”. Everything is locally sourced from local ranchers and farmers and is a must visit when passing through.  We spent our days building fences, irrigation channels and collecting eggs.  Nights were spent counting satellites, patiently scanning the sky for shooting stars and listening to the moans and croaks of toads in the adjacent pond. One afternoon on a hike in Zebra canyon, we noticed a nest perched on a ledge deep in the narrows of the slot.  Fortunately this hike is well off the beaten path and we saw it in advance before climbing. We stayed just long enough to snap a few pictures of a less than 24-hour-old chick, then moved along to let mom do her thing. Life in the Utah desert is always a treat.  Springtime may just be my favorite.

We hung out at our sunset lookout point yesterday, with Shyla looking mellow. Then, she caught a scent. First, her mouth closed and her eyes squinted. Next, her nose went straight into the air, fully committed to sniffing. We were on a plateau where she could have been smelling all sorts of wildlife. She sure loved it! Bear mating season is underway so Shyla certainly could've smelled a

I finally got the call from the Dorais (It’s pronounced DOE-RAY, and the D is not silent) brothers last week and it was game time! Pack up the bags and drive 13hrs to Rainier. I’ve been shooting them and their “ski-running”, or randonee, or even worse SKI-MO (can we please come up with a better name) approach to big mountains for the upcoming film. We had been out around the Wasatch, but this was the big idea, to shoot them setting a record on another iconic American peak (they currently hold the speed ski record on the Grand Teton). I was excited to try and capture this event AND get to ski Rainier for the first time. Mixing business with pleasure? Don’t mind if I do. Simply put these guys strap on the lightest equipment available, strip down to next to nothing and run up, then ski down mountains as fast as possible. Our objective route, the Disappointment Cleaver. Their goal was to beat the 4hr mark. The current speed record was 4hrs 19mins. The volunteer ranger volunteered the information that it wouldn’t be possible because of conditions, not this year at least. We arrived shortly after a storm that had kept summit seekers at bay for a week or more. Lots of things had to come together for this to work out. The weather would need to cooperate,  snow would need to remain firm, folks would need break the trail to the summit. Until that happened we hung out low on the mountain getting sun tanned and acclimated while making plans and turns. Andy swears that matching won’t make you faster just makes you look good. And apparently Jason agrees. It was funny watching the bro’s trying not to go stir crazy. They dialed in the lower mountain and put in their own booter to avoid the sloppy mess of a trail left by herds of climbers. Our window of opportunity was only 3 days and it wasn’t until the final day that the route opened up. Many thanks to the guides and rangers and climbing parties that blazed the way. Filming this speed business is tricky. I obviously can’t hang with them especially with camera gear. My plan was to head up the night before, sleep for a few hours at Camp Muir then continue to the top the next morning. We would all meet up around 9am on the summit where I would film them victoriously sucking in thin air. I packed up as light as possible excited to get a sunset and sunrise on this mammoth mountain. I arrived at Muir around 11:00, cooked up some beef stroganoff and got a few hours of “sleep”. The hut can be a really loud and busy place with folks coming and going at all hours. It’s a great shelter from the elements though. I woke and brewed up some coffee while the sun percolated. These are the moments where work and play get blurry. Things were lining up really well. My hope was to summit, but soloing glaciated terrain is risky business. I told Andy and Jason that I would advance as far as I felt comfortable. If things got too sketchy I would just wait and film them from whatever point I was able to reach. The route was well traveled and there were many parties out climbing. Ascending was perfect and I found myself thinking about the fellas and randomly yelling out “C’mon guys”! I also told all the climbers I passed about the fitness they were about to witness, and that they should heckle the speedy chinamen when they blew by. I topped out and the clouds moved in. Winds were a blustery 40-50 mph so I snacked and hunkered down. They wanted to be to the top by 9:00. 9:05 came and went, 9:08 and still no sign. Shit, shit, shit! I kept thinking something happened. Then I saw Jason speeding along in the clouds and I flipped out, yelling and howling at the top of my lungs and almost forgetting to film. They saw me and shot over for a quick transition and in a minute or two were skiing off into the clouds. They were pretty cooked and Andy couldn’t mutter a word, but it was all downhill from here. They had covere