Another trip around the Sun

Just when I thought that all hope was lost, a brief, yet intense Spring snowstorm dumped over a foot of light snow in the mountains Wednesday night, allowing us to, once again, enjoy a priveleged day in the Wasatch--a rare treat these days, as the Sun continues to rise higher in the April sky.  Thursday wasn't the deepest we'd seen it--or, our biggest day in terms of vertical gain--but the novelty of occupying a landscape that will, in a few short weeks, be radically transformed from a vast, unbroken carpet of white into an erratic mass of jagged talus, is a very cool feeling--in spots, you're probably standing ten to fifteen feet above the Summer surface level!  Mountains are dynamic places, and if you can spend enough time in them, these gradual, often miniscule changes become evident if you're of a mind to notice.  Tuesday will be 33 years.  Not a long time, just 33 such transitions from Winter to Spring up there in those secret and remote points in space, 33 laps around our star. 

Blogs are a pain-in-the...

I can never seem to get it together when I'm in front of a computer to write, and so I apologize about the long lapse.  Indeed, it's been nearly a month since I last posted; though, rather than summarize the events of the past few weeks, I'd rather just keep it short and sweet--it's a lot easier to write about the more random stuff that comes to mind, rather than to compose an involved synopsis...
So the Wasatch can't seem to make up its mind, whether it's still Winter, or if, in fact, Spring is finally here.  The second half of March saw frequent, sizable storms that were almost immediately followed by stretches of clear skies and a Sun that, these days, sits a bit too high in the sky.  All that great snow--on more than a few instances, we received over a foot each night--and yet, the clock started ticking the moment it touched ground.  By most afternoons, nearly every aspect at all elevations got cooked, leaving a nasty, unsupportable crust over much of the skiable terrain of the range.  As if to have even more fun at our expense, these storms have been punctuated by brief periods of warm, sunny weather--conditions perfect for rockclimbing--and though I'm still trying to stay PSYCHED for April powder days, I must admit that the prospect of long days climbing in t-shirts and in shorts is becoming more and more difficult to dismiss.  What a problem to have, eh?  Nate, if you're reading this, there's certainly some truth to that old notion, "too damn Western!"
On a more somber note, two weekends ago, a friend and a fellow Lone Peak fanatic, Garrett Smith, died from injuries sustained in a large avalanche just about an hour and a half south of the city, along the Manti skyline.  Garrett was a bit younger than me, and had just gained a foothold in the outdoor industry as a rep for Petzl's Work-Rescue division.  These last few years, I would often run into him at tradeshows, but it was our random run-ins at Lone Peak Cirque that I remember most; in addition to being an avid skier and a seasoned climber, Garrett also took photos.  One of the images that stands out for me and that you may have seen in a recent issue of Alpinist Magazine--I can't remember which--can be viewed here at his website:
http://hammersincphoto.com/#/Portfolio/Climbing/2  That's our mutual friend, Scott Epperson, racing the sunset on the last pitch of the Cirque classic, the Lowe Route, on the Question Mark Wall.  Here's to you, Garrett!