Last Friday night I found myself at the Pink Garter Theater in Jackson, eating prosciutto and cheese and waiting for the start of that evening’s program - the Reel Rock Film Festival. With the shutting down of Alpinist earlier that week, it had actually been canceled - but awesomeness prevailed and things came together without the corporate sponsors. When the Alpinist expatriates realized a fellow ex-staffer was pregnant and soon to be without health coverage, they rallied to pull together both the films and a silent auction, with all the proceeds from the night (including beer sales) going to help out with her insurance needs.

I had been looking forward to this for quite a while, and the fact that I couldn’t get anyone to come with me didn’t stop me from being the Solo Guy at the Movies for the night. Originally I was going to drive back home that evening, but with the ski swap in town the next morning, I decided to just stick around town and drive back to Star Valley the next morning. A quick supply trip to K-mart for a cheapo sleeping bag and a power converter for the laptop and I was set. I already had my day hiking stuff in the car from that morning’s failed attempt to get some mileage, so I wasn’t going to suffer too badly, and any excuse to sleep outside and catch an early morning sunrise on the Grand is a good one.

I got to the theater around six and bought my ticket before wandering around the square for a bit. I poked my head into different shops and then picked up a drink and headed back into the theater to check out the auction. There was a good variety of things up for grabs, and I put my name down on a tent and some clothing package for Amy, but wasn’t too hopeful. The food downstairs was pretty good - meats and cheeses and PBRs, but it was a good snack before I settled down into a back-middle seat inside.

The place filled in pretty quickly and by the time things were ready to go it was pretty much full. It was a bit surreal to be sitting in the middle of these Jackson-type conversations:

“Hey man, long time. Where you been?”

“Aw dude, just got back from three months of skiing in Argentina. Nothing new. Time to settle back and do some guiding and make some cash this year…”

Christian Beckwith introduced things and gave a little insight into the whole Alpinist deal, and introduced both the nights films and the reason we were all able to be there. Then finally, the house lights came down and the good stuff began.

From the film contest winners to the feature presentation, I really enjoyed all of the night’s movies. My hands were sweating for just about the whole evening, especially when people started jumping off of mountains wearing wingsuits and cruising across the face of the cliff, just barely avoiding a full-on strawberry jam situation. The main film of the night, “The Sharp End“, was really well done and definitely one to pick up for the DVD collection when its available. The crowd was into things from the get-go, and were appropriately vocal and responsive throughout the night, and it was just a good vibe. Even if I was by myself, I’m glad I made it. I just hope that someone picks up the Alpinist Film Festival so there can be more of these kind of productions in town.

After things wrapped up, I picked up a few bits of Alpinist schwag and headed to Albertson’s to get some food for dinner. Pastrami, cheese, a sourdough loaf and a Hershey bar with almonds were thrown into the back of the car and I headed up into the park. I’m pretty sure I did a no-no in “camping” where I did, but no one bothered me and I just drove down below the main road and killed the lights. I left the engine running for a bit to warm up the car while I spread out my kit in the back and ate dinner while watching a nice little documentary on Corbet’s Couloir on the laptop before going to sleep. The stars were out in full force and opening the door a crack I could hear the coyotes doing their thing for quite a while. It would have been nice to have had a tent, but I stayed plenty warm in the car and actually slept pretty good.

I awoke to the arrival of another truck coming into the parking lot and I quickly got dressed and cleaned up my stuff. The sun was still below the horizon and hadn’t really done much to the Grand & Co. yet so I grabbed a couple of cameras and a tripod and walked down to the beaver pond below the road to pick up a few photos. A beautiful sunrise came through with some seriously bright alpenglow to work with, but I wrapped up pretty quickly and hustled my way back into town for the ski swap.

The ski swap was held in the rodeo barn on the south side of town, and there were quite a few people inside when I got there. I ended up walking away with nothing, being completely overwhelmed with my choices and not really knowing what I wanted or needed, and also not wanting to wait another two hours in line just to check out. I think I’ll be able to pick up what I need at a better price through Craigslist or eBay in SLC this year, so we’ll see what I can find. On my way back home I stopped at Hoback Sports just to talk skis with somebody there to get a better idea of what would be the best setup for me, so at least I have a good idea of sizes and measurements now to work with.

All in all, it was a good weekend. I wished I’d have been able to bring Amy or Boone or someone, but the chance to sleep up in the Park, even in a car, was pretty good for my head and although not a typical outing for me, it was better than nothing. Actual climbs for me have been pretty few and far between lately, so with the camping and the climbing films, it was a good warmer-upper and inspiring at the very least.

As an unapologetic Patagonia fan, I was pleasantly surprised to see their newest web project pop up in my newsreader yesterday. The Tin Shed is a collection of stories, videos, photos, and whatever else they can fit in there from their friends and ambassadors out and about in the wide wild world. As far as armchair mountaineering goes, it’s a perfect fit for a Friday morning websurf session. Make sure to read Kelly Cordes’ treatise on high-altitude spooning, and get a peek into Steve House’s garage and gear stash.

Mike is a self-described avid climber (alpine, sport and ice). I’ve never met him but wandered across his stream on flickr. He lives somewhere up in that great white land to the north that most of America ignores. He lives where in the winter it’s cold and the waterfalls freeze. When that happens he goes out and climbs them. Having never really been a real climber and only a enthusiastic junior mountaineer, I dunno if I’ll ever give it a try - but man, it’s impressive as all get out to look at. Here are some photos from a place called Valley of the Birds:

Mike’s set has more…

I picked this 1963 issue of LIFE magazine up at Cameron’s books here in downtown Portland with the intention of maybe framing the cover at some point, but until i get around to that these scans should do just fine. The story of this expedition is pretty interesting, with a great narrative by expedition photographer Barry Bishop, as well as the story of the first American summiteer, Jim Whittaker. Reading about the conditions these guys were in is pretty impressive, and even more so when you consider the kinds of gear they used. Tough guys, all around.

Having lived in the Pacific Northwest for the last 20 years or so, I’ve always had a deep interest and respect for these original climbing gangsters who rocked the low REI numbers and the wooden ice axes. With names like Lute and Willi, you know these guys were hardmen. I think a comparison with the climbers on the Discovery Channel’s Everest series could be really interesting sometime - gear, technology, styles, etc… A good post for another day.