Sunday, January 26, 2014

The Lost Girda

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP is the noise that has been greeting me every morning for the past couple of weeks. Question: have I given up on the shred this year, in exchange for boozy nights out and ENA based hangovers?  Answer: nope, that thumping noise is not my head. It's the noise of the carpenters building the first ever snowboard shop in Gulmarg! That's all I'm going to say on that. Andy is putting together a little ditty on that project. So much has happened in the past few weeks that I'm at a bit of a loss as to where to start. To roll back three weeks, season passes were obtained and the shred could finally begin, on a low tide. Roll back two weeks, we're picking off lines and loving life. Roll back one week, we're in the midst of our first big storm, with no power but huge grins! But roll back just three days and we're, unfortunately, present for the first avalanche related fatality in four years.


That brings us to today and my quandary as to where to begin. I know it's important to give all the news of a season here in Gulmarg. However, it's difficult for me to write about the death of someone I've never met. Where information is limited and the rumours are rife, alongside the nature of the avalanche and the circumstances that caused it, the true story will probably never come to light. This can lead to speculation and untruths. All I know is that it leaves me with a heavy heart and a thought for all people that enjoy the mountains. It would be to easy to wax lyrical about the ever present dangers, the need to be extra vigilant after a big storm and how we are just guests on mother natures curves. But I won't. For me, the simple fact is, a man died doing something, one would assume, he loves and somewhere more lives have been affected. I know many ski towns will also suffer a similar fate this season, so please everyone be as safe as you can.

So now I'm left hanging in a melancholy space. How can I go on and tell you all about how epic my riding has been, without sounding a little ungracious? Well, the story I am going to tell happened before the storm. It was our first mission over the top of Mt. Affarwat for 2014. The forecast was for a sunny morning, the avalanche advisory had been digested and we were confident about our terrain choice. Want to hear what happened? Then read on.

Our line as viewed from the east side of Gulmarg on a much nicer day
click to enlarge^^
Skins on, I begin my first tramp up to the top of the mountain. Approximately 250m of vertical to climb over a little more than a kilometre. Fine if I'm at sea level, relatively painless at 2000m, get up to 3950m (top of the gondola) and I start to wheeze a bit. Things slow down and I feel I've gone for miles and looking back it's about 50m! Deep breaths don't seem to fill my lungs. I can't seem to get into a nice, regular stride, which matches my breathing. It's tough pushing to the top. Especially, when the weather that was nice at the beginning, is slowly turning. Now, I'm not only trying to regulate my breathing but contemplating what to do if it turns into a complete white out.

looking for the entrance to our line in the
approaching storm.
The wind is bringing in the cloud and the visibility is as regular as my breathing. I push on to the top and over to our first re-grouping spot. I can see that the visibility isn't as bad as it could be. But I'm no way fooled that it can't get worse in seconds. When the others arrive we discuss our options and decide to lose a little altitude and reassess. Split-skiing is still a novelty and I have the grace and balance of a newly born foal! At the next spot, the cloud is a little thinner and the decision is made to continue with our original objective. We skin on, aware that, if the weather dictates, we can still turn around. A little further we need to stick the boards on our backs and search out the entrance on foot.

My feet punch through the sugary snow to the brush underneath, with a regularity that makes me wonder how my board can survive this scratch free. We locate the top of our line and scope out our dropping in point. It's unanimous that the true entry isn't going to be ridden by us today. We select a safer spot and begin to transform our boards back. This is when the wind plays her hand. She screams in my ear as I try and rip off my skins. The unruly things flapping in the wind refusing to behave. Fingers fumble with buckles and she even snatches up my mountain snack! The saving grace is that she's moving the cloud through so quickly that there are plenty of clear patches.

Perseverance is key when it comes to a transition in a blizzard. But we do so and are soon ready to move out. One-by-one we cross the shady part and move down the ridge top. I get to ride the short first pitch and the flat light puts me on my bum. Unperturbed I'm up quickly and over to our next safe spot. Once we're all there, it's this season's newbie to the area that gets to ride the first line. Off he goes and he does a good job of making it look awesome. With a spotter above and one below, it's my turn next. My head slips into my snow zone and away I go. The feeling of gliding over the snow brings me no ends of joy. I pull up next to Jason and I can see we're both wearing the same sort of smile. Andy is down last and surfs the white waves with his usual grace. All back together we scope the next pitch and it serves to provide us with more of the goods.



Jason does the billygoat
Down the bottom I look back up at the treats and am happy with our decision making process. In my mind it was better to ride something slightly narrower, with heavily identifiable features, than a wide open bowl in the clouds. Now on lower angles we head off back to the gondola. So that was a day before the last storm. We looked at the conditions, discussed and assessed the day. We rode something well within our abilities and did so in the safest manner we could. However, I'm now all to aware that it only takes the smallest change to make a massive difference. February is fast approaching and with it we'll have more people on the mountain, bigger snow storms and the potential to go on even bigger adventures.



I'm not here to offer safety advice, there is an amazing amount of information out there. Nor am I hear to sugar coat the dangers associated with being out in the backcountry. I'm here to recite what a season in the Himalaya can be like. It's just unfortunate that, this year, life in the mountains, here, have had such a serious consequence. What I'll take away from it is the real importance to assess the risk, be aware of the consequences and, above all, play it safe.




Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Welcome to Gulmarg 2014......

Snow is fundamental to our sport, doesn't take an Einstein to figure that one out, which is why when it plays a hand in stopping you in your tracks, can you really get angry? Personally, I can't because I love snow. Even if it means spending New Years Eve, stuck in a Delhi hotel, alone, due to the Srinagar airport being closed by the snow! I've also learned that crashing in a Jeep, on the drive through the snow, on the way to Gulmarg, doesn't dent your love for the white stuff either! So some interesting travel mishaps preceded the start of the 2014 season, back here in Kashmir, which hasn't officially started as we await this storm before they open the top half.


The view of the Pir Pinjal the day before
Sandy got stranded by snow

Having the luxury of three months, we can await patiently for the opening and get our legs in skinning around, scouting new spots to explore. It's a definite merit of the place that after three seasons you can still discover new lines and you haven't set foot on the mountain! We've found jibs, pillows, chutes, drops and all manner of interesting features to hit. Bet you are beginning to wish you were here! Well you can always make that possible, just sack your job, book a flight, then send us an email and we'll sort the rest for you. Alternatively, just keep reading this blog and learn what a season in the Himalaya can throw at you.

Duelling busses, no one wins!

I mean how easy should it be to get a season pass? Most places you'll fill in a form online, make a payment and go collect. Well here in Gulmarg things are a bit more complicated. First, you need to go and get the necessary monies out of the ATM, as there is no card or online payment facility for your season pass. Obviously the machine in the market is getting fixed and won't be working that day. So it's off to Tangmarg to use the bank down there. 10 minutes into the trip and we're into a traffic jam. One bus has become lodged against a barrier and is getting pulled out by another, while a small army of locals try and lend a hand. There is shouting, wheel's spinning, a bus rocking but none of this has the desired effect. It stays put.
We clamber pass and start strolling down the road, getting picked up about 15 minutes later after the blockage is resolved. 
Down in Tangmarg we hold up the ATM line as we are forced to make several withdrawls to reach our required amount. Pesky max-limit on foreign cards! Money in pockets, it's back in another jeep for a trip back up to Gulmarg, passing the bus, now abandoned of help and spectators. 

Now we can head to the ticket office for the face-to-face transaction.


Heading in we are warmly greeted by the cold, having no real central heating in the main office. Enquiring about a season pass we are informed that we must wait as the right person isn't there. We wait, wait a wee bit more and then a final bit of chilling brings a new face into the office. Once again we enquire. This time we are told season passes can't be sold until it snows! 'But surely you sell them to us now, so when it does snow, we can just head up' we explain. Nope, can't do that. Once we have the season pass they're obliged to let us up to the top. I mean I love snow but I absolutely despise its uncanny ability to hide board wrecking rocks just underneath, which I dare say is what's going on,up top, at the moment.
Deaf to our suggestions and promises that we have no interest in committing 'new board suicide' we leave without a season pass. Oh well, was half expecting to come away from that empty handed, as it is the norm for the start of the season, when things that seem simple to us are just the opposite! We leave it a good few days and go out on the aforementioned recon. Returning just yesterday to try our hand again. 'Still more snow needed' is the same reply.
Recon......till after this storm


Returning this morning, after 0cm of new snow, our season passes are issued. Ah that extra magic non-existent snowfall how I love you! Just in time for the actual storm that will bring real snow. So now we wait with things to pass the time, like more exploration and the inaugural Avalanche meeting of new head patroller Colin Mitchell. That's tonight at 7.30pm, Pine Palace Heritage, if you are already here. If not, just remember all you need to do is quit the job, book a flight and send us an email and we'll see you there next week!