America’s Best Backpacking and Outdoor Adventures
Hi Michael,
I hope this finds you well! At the end of the year I am hoping to join my friends on an adventure to Argentina to climb Aconcagua. We are not taking the technical routes, so no ropes or glacier travel. My question is this: what is the best way to train for high altitude? I live at sea level in Portland, Maine, so access to high peaks is not really an option.
By Michael Lanza
The momentarily sedate current of the Green River pulls our flotilla of five rafts and two kayaks toward what looks like a geological impossibility: a gigantic cleft at least a thousand feet deep, where the river appears to have chopped a path right through the Uinta Mountains of northeastern Utah. Sheer, cracked cliffs of burgundy-brown rock frame the gap. Box elder, juniper, and a few cottonwoods grow on broad sand bars backed by tiered walls that seem to reach infinitely upward and backward, eclipsing broad swaths of blue sky. A great blue heron stalks fish by the riverbank. We notice movement on river left and glance over to see two bighorn sheep dash up a rocky canyon wall so steep that none of us can imagine even walking up it.
These are the Gates of Lodore, portal to a canyon as famous today for its scenery and wilderness character as it was infamous for the catastrophes suffered by its first explorers, who set out in wooden boats a century and a half ago to map the West’s greatest river system.
Avalanche Beacon
Pieps DSP Sport
$320, 8 oz. (with three AAA batteries, included, not including harness weight)
backcountry.com
I have more than a few friends—all of them experienced backcountry skiers, trained in avalanche awareness, and none of them reckless—who’ve been caught in avalanches. In each case, fortunately, it was minor and they emerged uninjured. But each of them realized it could have gone very badly. While an avalanche beacon represents yet another pricey piece of gear in an already expensive pastime, for backcountry riders traveling in mountainous, avalanche-prone terrain in winter and spring, it’s as indispensable as a shovel and climbing skins. So I decided to check out the more-affordable Pieps DSP Sport during several days of backcountry skiing in the mountains around Lake Tahoe and in Idaho’s Sawtooth and Boise Mountains.
Ski Bag and Carry-On Pack
The Douchebag Snow Roller Ski Bag
$249, 8 lbs. 1 oz.
moosejaw.com
Douchebags Hugger 30L
$159, 2 lbs. 12 oz.
backcountry.com
One thing scares me about flying, and that is flying with expensive gear checked as luggage. Besides the prospect of a big trip getting hijacked by lost luggage, there’s the fear of gear being damaged. And while a good duffle usually protects gear very effectively (especially if packed with soft goods padding hard goods), skis have always seemed highly vulnerable to the machinations of airport luggage handlers—particularly in the flimsy, soft ski bags that have dominated that gear category for years. Now I worry no more, since I picked up the Douchebag Snow Roller, an adjustable, reinforced ski bag that’s like a flak jacket for your boards.
By Michael Lanza
At a pass just below 9,400 feet on the north side of 10,229-foot Mt. Heyburn, in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, the wind that had been steadily turning the dial upward reached full volume. Another snow squall burst upon us, spraying white bullets sideways and dropping a veil over the rocky, snow-spattered, serrated ridge just overhead. Six of us had labored 2,000 feet uphill on skis in search of a doorway into a secluded mountain paradise of sorts, a high basin known in some circles as the Monolith Valley, though not marked as such on any map. A slender gash between Heyburn and another 10,000-footer, Braxon Peak, the Monolith exists in the topographical shadows, easily overlooked. Most of our group have only seen tantalizing photos that revealed legions of rock spires towering above untracked snow.
As sometimes happens, we had found something in between what we had hoped for and what we expected.