My British
travel companion Andrew limped towards me in pain. Blisters again. “That’s what you get for wearing brand new leather
hiking boots,” I thought to myself.
“And why don’t
you get yourself a pair of lightweight trail shoes?” I added silently. ‘They’ll
surely help you move faster.”
I contemplated
all of this as I soaked in the magnificent view from the summit of Rysy, a
2,499-metre peak in the High Tatras that straddles the Slovakia
and Poland boarder. Andrew and I spent the prior day hiking to Chata Pod Rysy, a
mountain hut precariously situated below Rysy’s summit. We woke to a noisy room
filled with rambunctious Czech climbers eager to attack the nearby crags and
after a hearty Slovakian breakfast, we were off to Rysy.
The ascent of
Rysy was steep yet straightforward. I stared towards Poland, our destination
that lay mere kilometers yet over 1,400 vertical meters below us. The descent
looked especially steep but locals had told us that long stretches of fixed
chains are in place to help navigate the sketchiest parts. The intense
steepness of the terrain along with cloudy skies, snowy patches from a recent
storm, and a language barrier made me a bit hesitant. We begin the descent
confident that we were prepared. Slow going and tough, the descent was
accomplished without incident.
A short bus ride
from the base of the High Tatras brought Andrew and I to the funky resort town
of Zakopane, Poland and a much-deserved pivo (Beer). Dom Turysty PTTK, one of
the area’s largest budget hotels displays a sign that reads, “Tourist you have
to remember – the mountains are only for clever ones.”
The sign made me
chuckle and I imagined placing one exactly like it in Jackson Hole, Wyo., the
place I have called home for over six years.
“I am definitely
one of the clever ones,” I thought smugly having just completed the tricky
descent of Rysy. “Yup, the mountains are for me.”
Over the past
nine years, I have lived in three different Rocky Mountain resort towns where
there is a constant reminder to be rad, go big, get extreme and do it all in
the proper gear. While the intense nature of people’s passion for outdoor
activities doesn’t surprise me, I am still amazed at their unrelenting quest
for the newest/best/most gear.
I remember first
being aware of this several years ago when I lived in Crested Butte, Colorado. At
this time, fat skis were just becoming acceptable to the hardcore crowd and I
was living in a house with three testosterone driven males. I clearly recall
one of the guys praising the importance of owning the latest outdoor equipment.
He even had a name for it – “high performance gear.” At first I resisted buying excessive amounts
of gear, but then I caved in. Being a member of the fairer sex, my reasoning
went, I needed all of the help I could get if I was expected to hold my own
with the boys in the mountains.
Although Rysy is
half a world away and straddles two former communist countries, I wasn’t
prepared for people’s indifference towards their outdoor adventures. You can
imagine my surprise when I saw tons of folks, very few of them decked out in
top-of-the-line, high performance gear, ascending upon Rysy. People of all
ages, shapes and sizes were ready to tackle Poland’s highest peak. Most of them
wore heavy, high-cut leather hiking boots, not the low-style, lightweight ones
we prefer in Jackson Hole. And the equipment got even worse: external-frame
backpacks, blue jeans, cotton tee shirts, you name it.
“Don’t these
people know anything about being rad in the mountains?” I thought.
To make matters
worse, it was approaching noontime as I got to the lower reaches of Rysy. All
morning, clouds had threatened to pour rain on the High Tatras. A storm would
have made the steep ascent a challenge and perhaps a real danger. Surely, these
cannot be clever mountain folks.
A few days
later, I was talking to an employee at Extreme Sports Zakopane, a local
mountaineering store. We were discussing Rysy, and I was curious to know if
many accidents or rescues occur there each year. He calmly assured me, “It is
not a problem.” From my years of travel,
I have discovered that when someone says to you in broken English, “It is not a
problem,” it is best to forget about what you have seen and go with it.
Apparently, Rysy
is doable for the average Tom, Dick, and Harry. (Or more accurately, any Pavel,
Stanislaw and Jan.) Plenty of people summit Rysy each summer and from what I
noticed, few of them would be considered rad in Jackson Hole. Or, maybe they’re so rad they don’t need the
newest, high-tech equipment.
I thought about
the gear I had with me on Rysy and tried to judge it’s retail value:
Lightweight trail shoes and Gore-Tex jacket from The North Face, down sleeping
bag guaranteed to keep me warm to 0 degrees Fahrenheit, an Arc’Teryx pack
complete with two liter camelback to assure I stay properly hydrated, polyester
shirt to wick away moisture. Surely it’s worth a pretty penny; surely its
retail value represents a sizable chunk of the average Polish or Slovakian
person’s income.
These
observations led me to wonder, “Precisely what does it take to be clever in the
mountains?” Skill, proper planning, and smart decision-making abilities are
indispensable, but how important is the latest high-performance gear? Is it
clever to go into the mountains with a pair of clunky hiking boots, a
20-year-old pack and a poncho?
Many of us move
to the mountains to escape the consumption driven lifestyle of the cities and
suburbs, but how much of this do we really leave behind? Sometimes it seems as
if we just trade a BMW, a Rolex and a stock portfolio for a full-suspension
mountain bike, a $425 Gore-Tex jacket and a quiver of skis.
It is now
mid-October and I am back in Jackson after six glorious weeks in Eastern
Europe. I savor the last days of fall and anticipate the approaching ski
season. My savings dwindle, but if I’m careful, I will be able to postpone
working for a few more weeks.
Glossy ski
magazines preview the newest outdoor equipment and much of it is available at
local mountaineering stores. Each piece reinforces the need for
high-performance gear. Each item promises to help provide a more pleasurable
experience in the mountains.
A pair of K2
Dawn Patrol skis catches my eye. I am sure they will help me tackle every
condition the backcountry throws my way. Owning a pair, I have convinced
myself, will make skiing any double black diamond a breeze.
To I really
“need” a new pair of skis, or can I survive on the pair I bought last year? New
skis or some more time free from work? What is the clever choice? That’s for me
to decide.
What, exactly,
does it take to be clever in the mountains?
Based on a true story. Written in 2003 during six week trip in Central/Eastern Europe.
ReplyDeleteI started this blog as a way to do more writing. Many people tell me I should write more but right now I'm stuck so I'll start with this. Hopefully, memories of a great time in life will inspire me.