The Moulton Journal: Spring Break for Emily

It feels like springtime in Butte: cold mornings, warm afternoons, bright clear blue skies. We did pick up some snow last week and Paul groomed last Friday before heading off for a downhill ski vacation/family reunion. Emily is home from Boston for spring break, so RTD & I have a skiing buddy again.

The moose are feeding early:

And by mid-morning they seek cool shade:

The moose, too, are anxious for spring. As Emily and I left Walkerville for a morning ski, we saw a yearling moose skylined in a fenced mine reclamation area behind the houses. Next day, the Montana Standard newspaper printed this photo of a cow and calf on a stroll through a nearby uptown neighborhood:

It was a cold morning. About 14 deg F when we left the house in the predawn, and colder at Moulton. Though the trails were a little icy (especially on those steeper, west or south facing slopes on the Sluicebox trail), we had a good "combi" ski, and skated much of time:

Poor old RTD: just yesterday it seems, RTD (aka "the Fasty Pasty") zoomed ahead on those downhills, and raced alongside on the steepest of slopes. She still runs, but not so fast. Through dogs, we learn to appreciate the trajectory of our own lives, and our aged future. Here's RTD, doing her best to keep up with Emily on the road back down to the parking lot:

And what's prettier than Emily's rosy cheeks after a fast ski on a brisk morning?:

Maybe some afternoon we'll head to the Jefferson River and catch a trout for the grill ("hook 'em & cook 'em," as opposed to "catch & release"). It's that time of year.


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The Moulton: Montana's Finest Cross Country Skiing Area

Montana Standard photo: http://www.mtstandard.com/articles/2008/03/11/butte/hjjbjgiijjebji.txt

Crossing Divides: Of the Continent & the Imagination

Springtime is working its way up the high valleys of the northern Rockies. Trout are rising to midges and early stoneflies on the Big Hole and Jefferson Rivers. The snow in our yard is gradually giving way to grass and mummified dog turds.

Spring skiing: Andrea Stierle emailed early last week suggesting a cross country trek from Deep Creek on the Big Hole (east slope) side to German Gulch on the Silver Bow Cr/Clark Fork (west slope) of the Continental Divide. It's not a trivial tour: 11 miles total with a 900 foot climb in the first 4 miles and a 2,000 foot drop in the second 7 miles. Of course, I did not figure this out until after the tour when we posed the curious question: "How far was that?" Here's the route, marked by the blue dog leash, and of course it unwinds along the corners of four separate topographic maps:

Before the trip, the questions floated around: How is the snow up along the Divide (i.e. is the surface set up, is it icy wind pack)? No one knew. Does anyone have this plotted out on a GPS? Nope. Does anyone know the exact route? Ah, no. But everyone had made some version of the trek before, and we have a lot of collective hiking experience (and, in my case, elk hunting time) along most of the route.

So, let's go! First drop Mike's truck on the German Gulch Rd above Fairmount Hot Springs ("Oh yeah--the front end is out, so no 4WD. We can't drive in quite to the gate..."). Starting out from the Mill Creek highway near Sugarloaf Mountain are (from left) Mike Stickney, Andrea and Don Stierle, Chukah the Dog, Larry Smith, and Chuck the Dog:

Perfect weather--sunny and in the 20s deg F starting out, several inches of fresh snow a few days ago. Afternoons have been warm (40s deg F) and so the snow is generally firm. Everyone was on lightweight touring equipment: traditional length, waxable (mine with Swix purple the full lenghth), "back country" skis with leather boots. Mike, Larry, and Don are superb telemark skiers. Andrea has logged a lot of backcountry miles. Yikes, what was I getting into?

We paused a few minutes after the steep climb from Sugarloaf on a rolling high flank of the Divide. Sadly, Andrea had knee surgery recently, and decided (before the steep climb) to turn back, have a ski on the Little California loop at the nearby groomed cross country trails, and then go for a soak and meet us at Fairmount Hot Springs. Here's the group with a look back to the Pintler mountains (Sugarloaf is the round-top on the right):

And here they go across the top of the world (you can tell that Chukah is the young dog, out in front):

Up and across the Divide, we then found a ridge running east toward Butte. The skiing here was fantastic, and I wish I had captured Mike's graceful tele-turns on video. And I'm glad no one captured my occasional face plant.The route did get a little confusing. After some deliberation (which actually involved getting out the maps!) we thought we were on a Forest Service road leading down Beaver/Beefstraight Creeks, tributaries of German Gulch Creek. Time for a quick lunch:

Then some more confusion as the ridge twisted and turned and split. But we found a narrow trail (unsullied by snowmachines) running in more-or-less the right direction. And, as Mike pointed out, "It'll lead somplace." Good enough. And what a great ski down! Here's Larry with Chuck on his heels:

By some fine stroke of luck ("No, no. It was superior map reading skills and the inherently correct male sense of direction.") we had found the Whitepine Creek pack trail (which, even though I frequently hunt that area, did not know existed). This led us to the German Gulch Rd, not a mile from where we were parked, and just 5 hours after we began. You can tell by the happy faces just how good that long downhill run was:

Yesterday, walking around campus and looking west to the Divide where we had skied over, I thought, "We should do this every weekend." As Don pointed out, however, we really did luck out with perfect snow and weather conditions. On an average winter day, the wind is blasting along the Divide hard enough to knock you down. A week earlier and the snow might have had no bottom. A week later and it might be treacherous icy crust. Allah be praised, life is good, we hit it just right.

The Continental Divide is just a line on a map. It's how we think about it that makes it significant as a boundary, as a symbolic barrier to be crossed heroically. But no, that's not fully true either: it's not merely a thought-construction. It's a genuine barrier to many kinds of flora and fauna, the weather and climate vary, and -- as geologists Mike and Larry can explain -- there are other, very real, differences.

And so it is with life. It is full of diverse kinds of Divides. Many, perhaps, are merely psychologically or socially constructed. But many also have deeply real qualities that may transcends our limited grasp. Some people play it safe, and try never to cross. One thing is for certain: you don't get the exhilirating run down without the hard climb up.

The Moulton Journal: Springtime in February?

Wow, it's been a hectic week. The return trip from Orono, Maine, class projects heating up & students needing help, faculty union-related business, participating in the Poetry Palooza at the Venus Rising Cafe (hosted by the Butte Silver Bow Arts Foundation, see http://www.bsbarts.org/)... It all makes me glad for cross country skiing, which provides a regular link to nature and an aerobic workout where the stress slides away like snow on a steep metal roof.

I packed my Fischer E99s (the SUV of cross country skis) to Orono, and had a few delightful mornings on the 25 km of trails that loop around the edges of the University of Maine campus. Here's one trailhead next to the athletic fields:

The trails are very flat compared with Montana skiing, and they are extremely well maintained. Lots of white-tailed deer and a few moose. Though a little wide for my tastes, what an asset to have in your college backyard! They get used a lot--cross country skiing is far more popular in Maine than in Montana. Most every town (Bangor, Old Town, etc) seems to have its own trail system, and there are connecting trails so that you can ski from point-to-point most anywhere in the state, it seems.

The weather was truly Maniacal: perfect snow and 25 deg F one morning, rain and slush the next morning, -5 deg F with fresh snow on ice the next... For an Allegheny Mountain boy like me, though, it was a joy to ski amid the mixed hemlock/white pine/hardwood forest. Few trees are more beautiful than the graceful hemlock with its gentle boughs:

Or the beech still clinging to its leaves in the middle of winter:

Back at The Moulton, weather was very spring-like last week. The snow on Big Flat (aka Moonlight Flat) set up firmly, making it possible to tour about anywhere you cared to go. So long as you were out in the open and not in the woods, the snow would hold you up. For skiers new to The Moulton, Big Flat can be reached from the south end of Neversweat or from where the meadow crosses Claim Jumper. The trails lie just to the east of Big Flat, and you're never more than a hundred yards or two away from the trails. Here's RTD, trying to catch up:

Our mid-elevation hills are often big open parks on the south and west slopes. The combination of wind and sun simply make these areas too dry for trees. I love the wide open space of Big Flat, and the panoramic views of the various mountain ranges that encircle Butte. Here's the view to the Butte Flats, airport, and Highland Mtns:

And the Pintler Range:

And Mt Powell, down the Clark Fork River valley near Deer Lodge:

Winter has returned, with six inches or so of snow overnight. It was icy and warm to begin with, but quickly settled into fluffy powder. Ski on!

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The Moulton: Montana's Finest Cross Country Skiing Area

The Moulton Journal: Skiing Right out of your Boots...

I never thought of myself as all that aggressive a skier, so when I bent the toe pin on a brand new pair of Salomon "Escape Pilot 7" boots I felt a mix of pride and disappointment. Disappointed that a brand new pair of fairly pricey boots was shot. Proud that I was setting a sub-11 minute pace on The Yankee Boy loop. Proud that I could ski so hard as to wreck a new pair of boots. But I try not to let delusions control my life, and have no doubt that Salomon is suffering some quality control/soft metallurgy issues. Here's a close up of the bent toe bar:


I've skied on a now beat up pair of Fischers for nigh on eight years, and everything BUT the toe bar is about worn out. I've been holding the soles to the boot with "Shoe Goo" this season, and was looking forward to new boots. So it goes. Here are the old boots:

Most of the time, I ski on the Fischer E99 "backcountry" skis with heavier boots anyway, but there are those perfectly groomed, fast snow days when its fun to combi-ski (wax for kick up the hills, but skating on the more or less flats) on the featherlight, skinny little Madshus classic skis. Although the cross country ski trails of The Moulton are Montana's finest, they aren't "overgroomed" like a lot of trails these days. And with the almost daily accumulations of snow this winter, it's hard for an awkward skier like me to get by on skinny, classic equipment--at least if I'm on the more challenging north area trails like The Yankee Boy and Big Nipper/Widow Maker.

Oh yeah, let me put in a plug here for Akers Ski, Inc., the "cross country specialist" business in Andover, Maine. Tim (Akers?) has offered me consistent, good advice for years (by phone), and I've bought several pairs of skies and boots from Akers. When I emailed the folks at Akers this morning about the Salomon failure, they were great! They'll take care of sending the boots back to the manufacturer, and I'm exchanging them for a comparable pair made by Atomic. If you're in the market for cross country skis, boots, or gears, check out Akers at www.akers-ski.com. Good people. Good prices. Good selection.

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The Moulton: Montana's Finest Cross Country Skiing Area

The Moulton Journal: Shifting Baselines, a Couple of Moose, and Skiing as Story

Shifting Baselines
It's a scary thought: all us skiiers are raving about what a great snow year this is. Yet, when you look at the last hundred years or so of data, it's really very average. But as humans (or Americans, anyway), we forget the lessons of history and only the recent past is our basis for comparison. Thus all of those so-called "drought" years from 1998 to 2007 are now normal, and the winter of 2007-08 looks exceptionally white and cold.

This is a good example of the classic phrase "shifting baseline," coined by biologist Daniel Pauly to explain how fisherman (and fisheries biologists) came to accept declining fish populations. In other words, it's all a matter of what you are used to. But no, it isn't: whether declining fish populations or global warming, there are real human impacts on the environment. If we do not appreciate their severity, we will end up like the Greeks or Romans or all those cultures that caused their own demise by ruining their environment [cf. Diamond (2005) Collapse].

But the snow is here, and I will get out there and enjoy it.

Moose
Since December, I've been seeing The Moulton moose cow and her calf separately. I thought that, as it seems to happen each year, the cow had driven the calf away or it had left on its own to stake out its own willowy territory. But this morning, there they were together again, feeding in the willow bottom near the Downy place (a mile or so below the parking lot), and bedded down as I returned:


Skiing as Story
Cross country skiing the trails of The Moulton is a performative act. It is something like Walter Ong and others thesis about Homer's Illiad and other oral traditions: they were never told the same way twice. Instead, the poem or song is stitched together from prefabricated parts, each with its own memorable thoughts, rich sensual metaphors, and other distinguishing features. And it's not a book that you read just once.

And so it is with a ski at The Moulton or with similar performances such as a hike through a familiar area. Each performance is a new story. In part, this is trivially true in a Heraclitean sense that "You can't step in the same river twice:" the snow, wind, temperature, light, wax, the pair of skis you're on, mouse tracks, and so forth are all different each time.

But in an equally interesting sense, each ski or hike is unique because of the way we stitch together familiar elements. Climbing across the ridge and skiing down the Buzzy Trail with its Single Jack and Double Jack is one day's introduction to The Moulton story, whereas another day might be introduced by way of a trek across the meadow, up the Orphan Girl hill, and down Wake Up Jim. Like Richard Brautigan's Trout Fishing in America, there is no one right order in which to read the chapters.

Sadly, I think, many residents of Modernity believe in and seek The One True Order. They seek the linearity of alpha-omega from beginning to end in an invariant way. They march into Iraq determined to transform diverse cultures that do not share "our" values into a democractic, "one nation under capitalism" neo-con version of Amerika.

This is exactly why we need the disorder, diversity, and complexity of nature and wilderness. It is a counterpoint to our daily experience of culture and technology, it challenges us to surrender our rational linearity, and it helps us discover the beauty of our relationship to the earth.

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The Moulton: Montana's Finest Cross Country Ski Trails

The Moulton Journal: Swix Polar Weather Continues

It was about -10 deg F starting out this morning in the pre-dawn hours. The almost full moon was still high enough to shed some light on the frigid landscape:

A perfect morning for Swix Polar, this wax made for good climbing and gliding around Buzzy, The Yankee Boy, the Nippers, and back down the road to the truck. Not as fast as Purple Swix at 30 deg F, but fast enough that it felt like skiing instead of sliding along on sandpaper (as it seemed the other night at -20 or so). Along the top of Buzzy, the rising sun filtered through the trees and brought a little welcomed warmth:

Skiing hard makes me thirsty, and I don't like toting the weight & bulk of an insulated bottle. It only works for a few hours, but I keep my Gatorade from freezing by making it with hot water and then wrapping it in a paper sack before tucking it into the pocket of my fanny pack:

There was an unusual abundance of mouse tracks running this way and that through the woods and over the fields. And tracks of a fox or two, hunting the mice. Are mice more active on nights with a bright moon? Nope--not according to the literature. Turns out they are far more active with the new moon (c. 3,000 feet moved per day vs. just a few hundred). Makes sense, I guess: the full moon provides owls, fox, and other predators some advantage. They must of just been hungry last night, what with the prior stormy weather and exceptional cold.

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The Moulton: Montana's Finest Cross Country Ski Trails

The Moulton Journal: Full Moon Skiing at -20 deg F

Woke up to a Martin Luther King day with the thermometer on the porch showing about -20 deg F. Radio said the airport (down on the flats, where the cold air settles) was -34 deg F. That's chilly, and the Toy started only grudgingly for it's trip to Dick's Auto for a little maintenance. As always, I had planned to ski the full moon. But my plans were easily frozen by a weather report calling for even colder temperatures that night.

I decided on an afternoon ski and waited until the air warmed to -15 deg F in the early afternoon to head up to The Moulton. As always when it's cold, the old LandRover cranked slow and gave every indication of not starting, but then the spark caught and it fired to life. I waxed with Swix Polar, and even that made for slow skiing. Surprise, though, near sunset when RTD and I finished The Yankee Boy loop and made ready to ski down to the parking lot, the air had warmed to -5 deg F.

That happens in our valley sometimes, as warm air slowly makes its way up to the higher elevations from down valley places such as Deer Lodge (i.e. the "lodge of the white tailed deer," as the indigineous people called it).

Still, I was surprised when Andrea Stierle called just as Jan & I were sitting down to supper to ask me if I was up to ski that night. "Well, sure." And so RTD and I joined Don and Andrea, as did fellow Frigidaironaut Mike Stickney.

The air was so clear that neither the lights of Butte nor the stars seemed to twinkle. The moon lit the landscape of Big Flat (aka Moonlight Flat) with that brilliant yet eerie light that collapses great distances. Butte is ringed with mountain chains of the Great Divide: the Tobacco Roots, Highlands, Pioneers, Pintler, and Flint Creek ranges stood brightly on the horizon, appearing to be a short hike away.

After our ski we stopped into the Stierles' cabin, enjoyed the warmth of the wood stove and a hot cup of tea, and talked in that easy way of tired, old friends. Back in the parking lot, as Andrea observed, "One of the loveliest sounds of winter – your truck starting when you are several miles from town and it’s -18!"

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The Moulton: Montana's Finest Cross Country Ski Trails

The Moulton Journal: A Winter's Tale

This morning, our world of sin is blanketed with the most amazing snowfall--light, feathery little bundles of interlocked flakes; four inches deep on the front sidewalk, but easily swept away with a broom. There is not a breath of wind, and walking along the flanks of Big Butte I was mesmerized watching this fluff fall from the sky, drifting down at less than a meter per second.

Yesterday dawned cold and clear. Here's the view west, with the sun just beginning to light the higher peaks of the Pintler:

The -14 deg F temperature at The Moulton made for slow skiing, but on such a day it is a joy to be outside. I warmed quickly skiing up the main access road from the parking lot, and it felt good to linger here and there where the sun lit up an opening in the trees. Breath, perspiration, and snot freeze on contact with the frigid air; cold fingers pry into the lingering soul:

The cow moose that has been hanging out in the willow bottom near the parking lot moved down the valley. Did even she feel the cold last night, or has she some intuition of deeper snow to come? Poor man that would presume to know the mind of a moose. Here she is, just a mile or so above Walkerville:

On a cold morning such as this, warm vapors rise from the Berkeley Pit (the world's largest toxic lake) and form the notorious "Pit Fog." Here it is, like brute matter brought to life, towering over the town:

The Moulton Journal: Cognitive Development & Cross Country Skiing

Skiing up and around the unpacked Buzzy Trail the other morning, and then on the closely enfolded, packed but ungroomed Yankee Boy Trail (which is, as I write this, beautifully groomed), it was all very comfortable. Not so many years ago, I found skiing these trails a contact sport.

Winter can last from November to April here in the northern Rockies. Anyone who likes the outdoors should NOT let winter keep them inside. For many years, I did a lot of snowshoeing. It's still the best way to get around steep, icy slopes and thick timber. But I gradually transitioned to cross country skiing more and snowshoeing less. There's something about the grace, speed, and sheer physicality of cross country skiing that is very compelling.

Like any activity that requires focal engagement & patient vigor* -- i.e. putting in the time to gain experience and competency -- it takes most of us awhile to become comfortable on cross country skis. Many people just cannot (or do not) put in the time. It's that way for the Christmas-New Years skiers, and similar to the opening day trout anglers, or the July 4th backpackers. For many activities such as these, the IDEA is much more appealing (and easier) than the REALITY.

We live in a society that thrives on fantasy. People read the catalogs and maybe even buy the gear. They imagine wonderful adventures and learn all the lingo. In some sad vicarious way, that seems to be enough. And many others simply become so sucked into "work" and related activities that they do not clear the space & time in their lives for meaningful exercise and knowing nature. Again, for such folks, watching a wildlife movie on TV seems to be enough.

Cross country skiing and touring can be a little scary (especially for folks who come to it in middle age and who are not natural athletes) until they develop their fine-motor balance muscles. After that, it's not so bad. I had a lot of inner ear problems as a kid and have terrible balance (I can't balance on one foot without visual clues), but figured out the skinny ski thing OK. I'll never be a racer or a master of graceful tele turns with light skis on steep slopes, and that's OK too. As Clint Eastwood's character, Harry Callahan, says, "A man's got to know his limitations."

Most skiers, as they develop skill and confidence, will learn to wax for various conditions and will probably end up owning several pairs of skis. For the beginner, it need not be so complicated. A good quality pair of "fish scale" or no-wax skis and boots will suffice. Increasingly, new skiers begin with relatively short, wide skis. Although slow and a bit heavy, these wider skis help with balance and stability, especially on areas that are not groomed to perfection.

If you are lucky, you will have friends that ski, and who are willing to encourage you. In my own case, there was Mark Goebel back in Bradford, Pennsylvania. As my Assistant Scoutmaster, he was kindly insistent that the troop include some cross country ski outings in our "camp every month of the year" program. And, upon moving to Butte, my new friend Dave Carter introduced me to the local trails and helped get me past the psychological impasse of waxing. Thanks guys!

Cross country skiing takes a little practice. For many people, the best advice is (as the Nike slogan says), "Just do it." Most areas have lots of flat areas (such as parks or golf courses) to practice on, and soon the hills will seem easy. Come winter, what's a hiker and backpacker to do? You can't just sit inside and molder in front of the TV. So take up cross country skiing, or at least its slow cousin, snowshoeing (there are even hybrid snow shoe-skis, made by Karhu I think). These winter activities are the closest winter thing to hiking, with all the attendant exercise (it's good for everybody), communing with nature, and being part of an active, outdoor community.

* Focal engagement and patient vigor are terms developed by the philosopher of technology & modern life, Al Borgmann, in his book, Crossing the Postmodern Divide (University of Chicago Press, 1992). I highly recommend this book.

The Moulton Journal: Being Close to Nature on Montana's Finest Cross Country Ski Trails

My daughter, Emily Munday, looks forward to a ski outing or two when she is home from college in the winter. I can see why. In part, it is the physical experience of aerobic exercise in fresh, cold air. There is also a chance to commune with nature through quiet, muscle-powered locomotion--observing various tracks, laughing with the chattering pine squirrels, flushing the occasional grouse, watching the big cow moose that lives in the meadow below the parking lot, and knowing the niches where lodgepole pine, Engelmann spruce, and Douglas-fir make their home. The Moulton ski trails greatly enhance this experience. They are narrow, winding, and vary constantly in grade. "Attention must be payed."

Here's Emily on Little Nipper:

Like all trails at Moulton, it takes its name from a mine or mining term. Nippers were the guys (often boys or young men) who sharpened tools and brought them to miners in locations throughout the mine. Because of their travels, they were also the "newspaper" of the mine. At The Moulton, Little Nipper is a delightful, intermediate loop for classical or skate skiing.

Here's Emily preparing to descend Widow Maker on the Big Nipper trail:

"Widow maker" had at least two meanings. It was a loose plate of rock on the roof of a drift or stope that might fall and crush a miner; and the term was also used for the pneumatic (compressed air-powered) drills that created clouds of dust that caused "miner's lung" or silicosis (also known as a Buzzy--the name for another Moulton trail). At The Moulton, it's part of the challenging Big Nipper loop--as indicated by the trail signs.

Snowshoe hares (Lepus americanus) seem to prefer the spruce and willow habitat of Big Nipper. All but the ear tips and eyes turn white in winter, they are largely nocturnal, and so they are seldom seen. But their tracks are very distinctive, and the big feet help them travel over snow and elude predators such as coyotes whose feet punch through the snow:

One of the joys of hiking or skiing with Emily is that she notices things that most of us speed past or take for granted. Here, she pointed out the mouse that had been coming & going from its den beneath a rock:

Good luck back at college, Em. And bring back a few new bumper stickers for the Land Rover. The ones you decorated it with in high school are wearing a little thin:

The Moulton Journal: Winter Solstice Party, Moonlight Ski

How often does the Winter Solstice occur with a full moon? With that happy coincidence this year, and a dump of fresh snow, a large group of friends converged on Don & Andrea Stierle's ("DnA") cabin at The Moulton. Highlights of the party included food (of course), dancing naked around a pyre (well, just kidding about that naked dancing), and moonlight skiing. Here's Andrea, the gracious hostess (for info on DnA's research, see the recent New York Times article at http://www.nytimes.com/2007/10/09/us/09pit-.html):

At least one of two things is necessary, I think, if you are going to live in Montana. ONE, you need to like snowy, cold weather and the kind of outdoor activities (such as skiing) that go along with it. And/or TWO, you need a good circle of friends with whom to socialize. Without at least one of these, you will gradually succumb to cabin fever as the blustery storms of November turn to the long dark days of December, or when the bright and sunny but frigid cold days of January and February turn to the brief false hopes of spring that come in March, or when winter settles back in for the duration of April only to give way to renewed false hopes of spring in May which leads to a big snowstorm in June that bends your lilac blossoms to the ground.

Here are some of those friends, heading outside and circling a large pile of beetle-killed lodge pole pine slash:

Don't stand too close--that's Bill "The Pyromaniac" Macgregor dancing around the woodpile, pouring on the gasoline (we really should do an intervention next year, and hand him a can of #1 diesel instead):

Feel the burn. Without the annual winter solstice pyre, the days would grow shorter and shorter as the light of the sun and all are hopes grew dimmer and dimmer. Next thing you know, we'd all be building religious shrines on the ridges, such as "THEIR Lady of OUR Rockies" (see http://www.ourladyoftherockies.com/). Thankfully, that's not happening. This crowd will settle for a good old pagan bonfire:

And a ski, helped out by the Good Samaritan Groomer (aka Paul Sawyer) who spent that morning laying down the corduroy. Turns out there wasn't much moonlight, thanks to a heavy cloud cover that helped keep temperatures at a reltively balmy 8 or 10 deg F. Here's Butch Gerbrandt, Emily Munday, and RTD at Amalgamation Junction:

At the Winter Solstice we are like Robert Frost's traveler (or Emily), standing long and contemplating alternative futures for the New Year. All good wishes for whatever path you take:

Cross Country Skiing Begins

The late end to elk hunting season and a very busy end to the semester (final exams, theatre of the oppressed, senior thesis presentations...) delayed the longed for gratification of living at 6,000 feet in the Northern Rockies of Montana: cross country skiing. Though the snow is a little sparse on the Moulton trails near Butte, snow conditions are excellent just over the Divide (and a half hour away) near Mill Creek Pass (aka "Mt Haggin ski area").

John Wulf, who enjoyed grooming the ski trails, died recently (http://www.legacy.com/MTStandard/DeathNotices.asp?Page=LifeStory&PersonId=89926071). Roly The Dog and I dedicated our ski to John's memory. John is now in good company, since "all dogs go to heaven."

We did the Little California loop--it's about 10 km long, and it's a few km in and out from where L California meets the Crooked John loop. Trails are a bit boring, like skiing a logging road: up, up, up and then down, down, down. And the trails are cut w-a-y t--0--0 w---i---d---e. They're like 4-lane highways. Plus some groomer who did not know better laid the track right down the middle, which made it hard to skate on those gentle downhills. But there are fantastic views to the Pintler, here Mount Haggin (c. 5 miles away):

And I like the sense of history from the remains of the Anaconda Company's logging operations:

Can't wait for Moulton to get a little more snow, so RTD & I can enjoy skiing closer to home on the world's best classic trails.

Moulton Cross Country Skiing

"The Moulton" is an area about 5 miles north of Walkerville, which is itself on the north side of Butte. I'm not sure of Moulton's elevation, but our home in Walkerville is about 6100 feet elevation and Moulton is considerably higher--say 7000 feet? Moulton has much better snow than Walkerville, in part because of the elevation gain but also because it is well out of the valley.

The parking lot and trailhead for The Moulton is more or less at the end of the road, near the water reservoir. You can drive a little farther up (when the snow is not too deep), but within a half-mile of the parking lot the road is gated where it enters a private land inholding (there are a bunch of cottages on the old dairy farm there).

In the mind of many, the cross country ski trails of Moulton are the best there is. They were laid out by several very knowledgable and experienced skiers at a time before skate-skiing had taken over the land: Paul Sawyer was a senior Olympian and Vermont native, for many years he owned the old dairy farm cottage and he is still the primary groomer; John Mike Downey was an Olympic alternate and Butte native, and he still lives nearby; Rick Appleman is a California transplant who crossed the Sierra once or twice on skis in his youth.

Many cross country ski areas nowadays consist of wide, boring trails. They climb steadily up like logging roads and then descend the same way with few twists and turns. Not The Moulton! Though the trails range from very easy to fairly difficult (green to blue to black diamond), even the easiest trails are not boring. The most challenging trails have steep climbs, equally steep downhills with sharp turns, and gentle flats to double-pole or skate. The trails are narrow enough that you need to pay attention to stay out of the trees on downhill runs. No one is too compulsive about clearing the trails, either, so there is the occasional tree or branch to duck under.

Best of all? The trails are 15-minutes from my front door... Here are a few pics from a morning ski with Emily and RTD.

The ski begins. It's cold out--about 12 deg F. Coat zipped up tight.

Funny how the temperature warms up about 20 degrees in that first half-hour!

Climbing a hill. Nice herringbone technique.

One of several lookouts, and a good place for a quick rest.

Downhill run.

And don't forget to duck!