But. Danger lurks on Facebook. Sometimes it is so hard not to be snarky. The woman who puts up a saying about real women not attracting drama when she is the biggest drama queen around. The person whose every post is about the alcoholic beverage she is consuming. The one who badmouths her husband!

So how is this about the outdoors? Stay with me, people. Because today I  got sucked into a troll’s posts on a hiking forum. This forum is mostly pretty great. People write about where to find water in the desert, post fire closures, and do reviews of their gear. But occasionally some tension creeps in. A woman wrote about wanting to do a thru-hike with her two year old, and some posters jumped all over that. The kid will overheat! The kid will slow you down! The kid will be too heavy to carry! You’re crazy!  Now, maybe hiking two thousand miles with a two year old is pretty nuts. I wouldn’t want to do it. But the responses were rather cruel. I guess you open yourself up to that on a public forum, though.

Anyway, on to my situation.  A hiker asked about when she needed to legally carry a bear canister in California. Most responses were helpful and polite, except for one guy, who proceeded to say that you didn’t need to carry them, not if you were a real hiker, unlike newbies or “gapers.” That the rangers just liked messing with real hikers and that all of them should drown and the world would be a better place.

Snap! Maybe it was the years of picking up and carrying other people’s trash out of the woods. The years of staring down  TP-strewn toilets, armed with a brush and Pine Sol.  Carrying dying people off the trails.  Digging fireline to save their houses. I steamed in silence and then I wrote angrily  that I was leaving the page.

Not that anyone cares about that. The point is, it’s sometimes easy to get wrapped up in the fake world of the internet when there’s a real one out there. What was I doing on a forum that talked about hiking instead of actually..hiking? I immediately went to my Facebook page and deleted a bunch of groups. Time to leave the trolls behind and get out there and do something.

The one bedroom that wasn’t occupied by us or our gear was reserved as our guest room. This room saw a variety of use, from the visits of parents to, once, a short-term roommate. Based on the experiences we had from the various inhabitants of the guest room, I’d like to offer some advice on being a good houseguest/roommate.

1. Invite yourself to use the spare bedroom. Our mentioning of an extra bedroom in casual conversation is pretty much the same thing as an invitation for you to stay in it, so you should just go ahead and assume such. When you call to say you’re coming to Alaska (surprise!) and tell us what time you need to be picked up from the airport (because actually asking for a ride is an outdated formality as well), and I ask you where you’re planning on staying, just laugh at my hilarious joke. Need a place to stay for a week or two every month between coming off the Slope and flying to some sweet climbing trip because you’re homeless? Well, we’ve climbed together a few times and there was that restaurant we ate at together that one time, so we’re practically family. And I’d never refuse a bed to my real brother, would I? Plus, when I come home from my horrible job, grumpy and angry at the world, the thing that’ll really cheer me up is hearing all about your “epic” climbing plans.

2. Whatever you do, DON’T clean up after yourself. I’ve kept this on the down-low, but my real desire in life is having a full job and being a housewife at the same time. And even though I don’t want kids, in part because they’re miniature tornadoes, I definitely DO want someone in addition to my messy husband to clean up after. So when you leave, please don’t wash your sheets, or clean your toilet, or even turn off the lights. I don’t get to do those things enough already. My mom taught me that not only should you clean up after yourself when you visit someone, but you should do something nice, like get them a card and a bottle of wine. Obviously my mom has no clue what she’s talking about. Dirty underwear? Now there’s a true thank you gift.

3. If (extremely reasonable) rent has been previously agreed on, pay at your own leisure. My landlord expects me to pay rent on time every month. That guy is an ass. All those idiot utilities companies charge late fees and threaten to “turn off our heat” if I don’t pay my bills on time. Jerks. You’re a friend who’s told us you want to rent our extra bedroom for a few months and we’ve gone out of our way to offer you rent at a price you couldn’t otherwise find in Anchorage unless you lived in a cardboard box? Just pay whenever you feel like it. You’re a week late and I’m wondering where the money is? I’m just joking, really. You’ve already “realized” that I’m way too nice to kick your ass out (or so you think), and damn it if you’re not going to take advantage of my hospitality.

4. If you plan on staying multiple times and/or for more than a week at a time, don’t offer monetary compensation. Especially if you’ve invited yourself, as advised above. Things cost money. Like the water you use showering and washing your clothes (but not your towels or sheets). Or the gas you use when you turn up the heat but then leave your window open all day. Or the electricity you use when you’re staying at my house while I’m out of town and I come home a week after you’ve left and find all the lights still on (leaving lights on is only my pet peeve when I do it). Or the food I bought and you ate. I bought all that for you anyway. In general, when you add a third person to a household, it costs more money to operate that household. But we’ll foot the bill because we make so much money. We work for the government, so we’re practically millionaires.

My husband and I are laid back people who are willing to help our friends out however we can, sometimes at a monetary or time cost to ourselves. Take total advantage of it. I’ve given you all the advice you need to do so. Chances are you’ll get away with it once (shame on you), or maybe even twice (shame on me), but that’s all it takes before you won’t be able to show up uninvited and be let in the door.

To cover a little bit of background, though – when I first set out to test an avalanche airbag pack, I stopped by both BCA and ABS at Outdoor Retailer. BCA really turned me off to the whole thing with their juvenile approach to marketing – they’d filled their demo airbag pack with a blow up doll of a naked woman (seriously. And they STILL use that thing. They trotted it out at the International Snow Science Workshop in Anchorage last year to a rather stunned and uncomfortable reaction; a blow up doll is NOT what anyone needs to see at a serious scientific conference) as well as the rep’s reaction to me trying on a pack that didn’t fit well. At first he looked disappointed but then slammed his hand on the table and told me “Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to tell everyone that this pack fits great and is the best.” And I don’t think he was kidding.

This is 5’5″ me with a fully loaded 30L Vario ABS pack. I was surprised at how bulky it looks compared to my usual 29L backcountry pack. I think the airbag system probably adds bulk to the pack, so expect a little more cumbersome a package.

I had as far an opposite experience as I could have when I stopped by the ABS booth. Steve (the then-CEO who has since moved on to a bike company) was excited I’d stopped by, and mentioned that many of the ABS sponsored athletes were women so they had taken pains to make sure the packs fit smaller frames. We scheduled a time that afternoon for me to come back and get a lesson in how the pack worked, because Steve wanted to make sure there was enough time to go through all the features. Sure enough, the pack fit me great and I was impressed by the professional and friendly approach the booth staff took. From those experiences, I pursued a field test of an ABS pack.

Equipped with my test pack, I’ve been experimenting with various zip ons and pack functions. Fortunately I haven’t had the need to actually test whether or not the pack will save my life in an avalanche, but given the increasing frequency with which new anecdotal evidence seems to suggest that airbag packs can tip the odds in one’s favor, I’m certainly glad to have it when I hit the backcountry. It’s heavy, true – and requires a little more “doing” what with the arming and disarming of the pack. Once I gained a little confidence with the functions, though, it’s become second nature.

Generally the base unit is almost a “set it and forget it” type of thing as long as you’re not taking it on airplanes or removing the cartridge all the time (I don’t know why you would). The cartridge screws into the cradle and it’s nearly impossible to screw up. It can’t be cross-threaded (by design) and is simple enough to put in place. You’ve got to be a little careful about the order in which you set up the pack – never attach the trigger when there is no cartridge in place. If you end up deploying the trigger with no cartridge, your pack will be rendered useless and will require service before you use it again. Considering the lack of instructions-reading that people engage in (they’ll read endless blogs and message boards and trip reports but not the damn product instruction book), I think this is very important to note. Whenever I hear stories of airbags not deploying properly I usually wonder if the user even read the instructions. This is an expensive life-saving device, learn how to use it properly!

Anyway, once you have the cartridge in place, you can hook and unhook the trigger as needed. Be careful when doing this; resist the temptation to tug to make sure it’s seated. The reason for this should be obvious, but if it’s not, see the last sentence in this paragraph. I usually remove the handle for storage and transport, but attach it as soon as I head out into the mountains. So far I’ve never had an accidental deployment, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time. Be careful – that will cost you about $140 for a new cartridge and trigger (once deployed, they’re expended and must be replaced).

The base units come in long and short; the short fits me well. The waist strap is different than usual, using a metal “safety fastener” which operates kind of like a skydiving harness instead of a standard buckle. It’s kind of nice to be able to remove it one-handed, but getting it all fastened properly is a little bit of a production. There’s also a crotch strap that, quite honestly, NO ONE ever uses because…crotch strap. I don’t know for sure if any of the documented successful saves from the pack were with crotch strap attached, but I’ll go out on a limb and say that I doubt it. I don’t use mine. If I’m in something so big that this highly engineered device is ripped off my body for lack of a crotch strap, I think I’d be in trouble anyway.

Bulky or not, hucking and landing, no problem. It fits well with no shifting.

Still, if you hate all the ABS zip-ons, there are quite a few companies making compatible zip-ons, so really that’s not that big of an issue. The biggest benefits to me are the fit of the base unit on the skier (me) and the actual deployment of the airbags and whether they will save one’s life. I’m reasonably sure that even had the unfortunate blow-up-doll-incident not been a factor, I would have gone with ABS because of the dual airbag system, which provides redundancy. If one bag is punctured (which is unlikely – the are tough), you’d still have the other to provide some flotation. There is an argument for the “around the head” configuration of BCA’s one-airbag system as some think it provides protection for one’s head, but I don’t like that design as the presence of the airbag is more likely to actually break your neck via impact rather than protect your head if you are falling and the airbag impacts a hard object. It’s not a soft pillow-like structure – it’s firm enough to cause damage. I’ve struck a vehicle airbag with my face and these are similar in design – believe me, it’s not going to cushion anything; don’t kid yourself. It’s not that I think the around-the-head configuration to be inferior for flotation; it’s just not at all superior for trauma protection and I think it’s probably a little irresponsible to suggest that it’s got that function.

With the ABS twin bag system, your head has more range of motion with the bags deployed. You can also ski with the bags deployed, and move your arms without encumbrance, which is nice for those inevitable accidental deployments or when you have to ski out of a slide (hopefully never to both of those events).

Sometimes I wonder how my preferences for ABS over BCA were shaped by the whole blow up doll incident, and the arrogant way I was treated at the trade show, oh, and the deer-in-headlights “uhh….would it have been funnier if we’d used a sheep?” response I got from the rep at ISSW whom I confronted about the stunt. I know for certain that the ABS pack fits me a LOT better than the BCA one, so that’s a plus one on the side of objective facts. The issue of redundancy is an important one, I think, and ABS wins there too.

This one adds no value to the review. It’s just funny. 10K feet of cat track skinning might turn you weird too.

I found the ABS system really easy to repack. I haven’t checked out BCA for this capability so I can’t compare the two there; I can just tell you that ABS is really easy to reset. It’s still a safety device with a rigid set of restrictions for safe use, so pay attention.

Generally I’ve been won over by the pack. I went through a period in which I didn’t wear it much, because I think Bob Sayer had a point when he told me “If you think you need that thing, why are you skiing there?” Ultimately, though, I decided that I ski solo and practically-solo (with a beginner or non-savvy partner) so often, and in terrain in which the airbag would have a chance to work (wide-open ramps, no trees or similar trauma-inducing obstructions), that the airbag is a reasonable tool to use. I still take Bob’s advice almost every day when choosing terrain and route, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that this technology is available to me and I don’t see much of a downside to using it for touring. There are downsides to airbags in the heli-ski world that Bob inhabits (restrictions and pain-in-the-ass issues involving helicopter transport), that I saw for myself, but for touring it’s what I use. And until I find a better system, ABS is my preferred model.

It’s safe to say that spring has arrived in Alaska. Temperatures are mostly sorta for the most part reliably above forty on sunny days, the Turnagain Arm trailheads have dirt showing, and you just might get a real sunburn if you forego face sunscreen. It’s easy to give in to the idea that summer is practically here.

Predictably, local motorcyclists have already indeed given in, and on my short drive to mountain rescue practice today, I saw at least five motorcycles on the Seward Highway. “It’s awfully soon” I thought to myself, considering the massive gravel patches left from nine months of road sanding and the way the studded rear tires of my truck had spun out on the on-ramp this morning, prompting me to shift to 4WD.

Rounding the corner from Potter Marsh, I saw a big touring motorcycle on the left shoulder of the highway, a few hundred feet past the Rabbit Creek bridge. I knew immediately what had happened, and the skid marks and crushed side of the moto confirmed it. The rider had hit the patch of ice that forms (and stays) under the bridge until temperatures are consistently above freezing at night. The sun never gets to that part of the otherwise dry road. A few times I’ve had a few breathlessly scary tractionless moments even in my 4WD truck in that spot. The rider had swept around the turn, contacted the patch of ice, lost traction, gone out the other side, violently slewed back and forth as slick met friction, and high-sided. Looked like the rider was basically OK – only one cop car and the rider sitting upright in the back, door open.

My boyfriend close friend just texted me from the Whittier tunnel. “Another moto down,” he wrote. “At least three.” So, a minimum of four separate motorcycle crashes in one fine spring day on the same stretch of road in the span of a few hours.

It’s possible it’s too soon for motorycles at the moment. Remember that just a week ago we had a foot and a half of new snow on the ground.

I think of the guy who picked up my – his, now – Multistrada today. It took three of us to coax it carefully over the glare ice that coats my driveway. Later I spoke to a friend who was planning to get his BMW F series out this weekend, and I just paused this article long enough to send him a message about all the crashes we’d seen.

It kind of sucks sometimes to live in an Endless Winter, but if Alaska is what you’ve chosen, you’ve chosen a short riding season, too. Be careful out there! Me, I’m motorcycleless at the moment, but not for long. I leave for South America in a week, where the pavement is bare, the temperature is 88, and there’s a V-Strom waiting.

Anyway, with the arrival of “spring” it’s time for the revival of the Moto gear review section. I was fortunate enough to be sent a Firstgear care package chock full of goodies, including these HT Overpants. You recall I loved my Firstgear Kilimanjaro jacket so it was fun to try out some matching pants.

The HT Overpants are popular amongst women riders in large part because they are one of the relatively few enduro-style pants out there specifically for women. It seems that if a retailer starts carrying women’s gear, they start with these pants. They’re a really solid option for women riders.

Basically you’re looking at a heavy-duty overpant with a removable liner and some (?) built-in armor. I say “some” because my research indicates the pants come with knee and hip armor, but mine only have the knee armor. Oh…wait…they DO have the hip armor, it’s just low-profile. You’re hardly likely to notice it until you need it. Nice! My regular moto pants are dude pants with aftermarket hip armor, which is not so flattering so hey, it’s nice to have the low-pro option. Let’s face it, unless you’re a stick insect (which I am not, at this time of year anyway, thanks heaps, long Alaska winter), moto gear isn’t the most flattering.

Let’s continue with the “ooh, squirrel!” nature of this review (sorry, I keep getting distracted by going through the pockets on these pants and finding what I left in there last season) and talk about fit. These are high waisted pants. There’s no other way to say it. They are fine when you’re standing up, kinda weird when you’re seated on your bike. At least for me; I’m kind of a short-waisted person and high waisted pants end up around my rib cage – a secondary shelf bra of sorts, shall we say. Taller ladies might find the fit to be a little better for them, but basic sizes seem to be built for average-height gals. As a matter of fact, I have to order a size up to be sure riding position is comfortable. This is kind of an issue for moto gear because stretch isn’t really a common thing for Cordura. You need roominess to be comfortable, and roominess doesn’t seem to be built into the sizing of any brand. That said, these pants seem to be sized generally true to size.

The legs are cut a little tapered to work well tucked inside boots.They’re a little narrow for out-of-boots but I think it could work. I’m an out-of-boots person personally; I like the Boorman look. I’ve also had to lengthen these pants to make them really work over boots (you can lengthen by having any good heavy-gear sewer attach extra Cordura to the bottom hem. If they’re good, it looks just fine – Alaska Leather does a great job). Without a little extra fabric they end up at mid-calf. That’s why I think taller women might want to go the inside-boot method. You have nearly full-length side zippers on both liner and outer pant, which is nice for donning and doffing without removing footwear.

The liners are good and warm. I’ve worn them on low-thirties days and didn’t even feel the wind. Come to think of it, I’ve never even needed heated inserts with these pants. The specs say the liners can be worn as stand-alone pants but honestly, I don’t see why you would do that unless you didn’t bother to wear actual pants. Which you might not, because the fit of the pants in general doesn’t allow for a lot of clothing underneath unless you get at least a size, maybe two, up. I got a size up, myself, but I think two sizes up would get too “poufy” in the hips and butt. I don’t know why gear designers always default to the mom-jeans look at first, but this is pretty common for manufacturers starting the foray into women’s specific pants and trying to figure out how to solve the “too big in waist, too small in hips” problem. Designers – you can lower that rise by about two and a half inches, solving the problem of how to get the waist small enough while leaving room to slide the pants over our hips. If you lower the rise, the opening is big enough for our hips. And we won’t end up with our pants around our collarbones.

So that’s a long and rambling way of saying that these pants would be great for a tall woman who rides long distances in cold weather. I prefer something a little more relaxed for around-town stuff because I like to wear jeans under, and being a little on the short side I find the fit of these pants a little too long in the rise to comfortably accommodate underlayers. If the fit works for you, you get a lot for your money – a tough, fully featured, very functional and well-equipped pant. And don’t forget WARM! I’d like to see them in a low-rise version, but as this is a battle that it took almost ten years to win with the outdoor industry, I think we’ve got a while to wait.

Getting her up on the center stand on a sloping driveway; easy. Getting her down…not so much.

I closed the sale on my Multistrada today. I rode it all last summer and really liked it; it’s a Ducati through and through. A superpowered dual sport with that real Ducati feel. Most days I cruised through roundabouts a few more times than necessary just to feel the way it felt.

But it wasn’t the right bike for me to keep. I was up on my toes at every stop light. When fatigued, the effort to keep it upright would make my calves shake. Getting it out of my garage was a lot more of a production than I would have preferred (I may or may not have dropped it on the downhill side of my off-camber driveway just trying to put my foot down at one point and my lower back may or may not have things to tell about that little adventure). And taking it off the center stand is pretty funny when I forget my feet are four inches from the floor when it’s up there.

Finding a bike when you’re short is hard enough. Letting go of one you like because you’re short and it’s not is a challenge unto itself. But, it had to be done, and I’m eyeing the much-more-my-size Monster these days.

While it has been fun to smirk at the ongoing debates and to wonder at those who actually care about a half an ounce in the scheme of things, it has been heartening to page through the websites of these cottage industries. Many of them are people who hike themselves and recognized a need for better gear. Most of them manufacture the gear themselves with very few sending it overseas. And in most cases the products are innovative, things you won’t find at mainstream stores for years.

The downside? There are two that I can see. All of the items I have ordered are made to spec and made to order, which means you can wait up to six weeks for it. That isn’t really a downside if you plan ahead and quell your need for immediate gratification. The other is the price. Naturally, because these are small operations that are using new and expensive materials, the price tags aren’t for everyone. “I spent $1,000 to save half a pound,” one forum visitor wrote. Only if you are truly dedicated to your cause might you want to drop the money on this type of gear. Or if you are a gearhead. Or both.

An interesting effect of these cottage industries has emerged, but this has more to do with human  behavior. People show up toting this brand new stuff almost as if they earn badges of coolness by using/wearing them. “Look at this one ounce blanketyblank fiber tent that sets up with one stick, gathered from the forest each night! Aren’t I a Cool Kid carrying this!” I sigh  inwardly when I see/read this. Unfortunately even in the Long Distance realm, where the level of generosity and helpfulness reach beyond any other sport I have ever participated in, there have to be a few posers. These are the same people who deride section hikers such as myself as not worthy, as if only those with trust funds or enough bravery to take six months off to hike two thousand miles are the only true hikers. They are the same people who raise eyebrows at a thirty-pound load but then repeat the thru-hiking mantra in a passive-aggressive way: “Oh well. Hike Your Own Hike! (but I think you’re a clueless idiot for not doing it my way…)“

But I digress. The emergence of the cottage industry into the backpacking realm gives me hope. For years we could only get overseas-made, identical-looking tents, sleeping bags and backpacks. The influx of creativity has changed hiking for the better. Now you have choices. Some cash poor hikers have even eyeballed the expensive gear and gone on to sew their own packs and tents loosely based on existing designs.  It’s only a matter of time before the new fibers and designs become cheaper for the masses. Let’s hope, though, that the cottage industries continue to thrive and don’t sell out.

Things ADVENTURE TOWNS Must Have

1. Coffee Shops. Lots of them. With free wireless to make it easy to keep up on blogging and trip reports.
2. Breweries. Lots of them. To throw one back after a hard day of adventure followed up by a hard afternoon of blogging.
3. Quality Food. If the town doesn’t have a long list of quality restaurants then just forget it. It’s not adventure without a cloth napkin.
4. Roads. Well, you have to be able to drive there, right?
5. Touristfrastructure. Knickknacks are the best way to commemorate your adventure.
6. Newishness. If the ADVENTURE TOWN has already been listed in the TOP TEN ADVENTURE TOWNS in the last five years, it’s clearly no good. Find a new one. The old ones go bad after a list or two.
7. Nothing terribly difficult. If it’s actually an adventure to get there, move around, or do stuff, well, forget it.
8. Safety. We want adventure, real adventure, but only ones people can have and keep all their digits and not have to wear a money belt and preferably not have to learn another language. We want to go home safe and sound with all our pocket change and passports intact and be able to order a beer without the hassle of learning any new words.
9. Lots of white people. Look, I’m sorry to point this out, but in my exhaustive research for this article, I didn’t find one single picture of a minority in the lists of US destinations, not even in Hispanic-heavy places like California or places with a high population of black people, like Louisiana (actually, I couldn’t find any ADVENTURE TOWN pictures of any people in Louisiana at all. Just street signs and a picture of a river. Hm). There weren’t a lot of women in those pictures either. So, adventure towns should be for white dudes mostly.
10. At least a fivefecta of activities. Climbing, rafting, skiing isn’t enough. You need at least two more things to do to qualify as an ADVENTURE TOWN. So what if you boast the single best ski run in the universe? What are people going to do for the OTHER six days of their vacation? At least one activity per day of the average American length of vacation is best. Day trips only, of course, so that people can take advantage of the food, touristfrastructure, coffee shops, and breweries.

Well this certainly got sarcastic, didn’t it? In all seriousness here are some great and easy places to go in North America to enjoy outside activities of various types:

1. Burlington VT in July (eat at Al’s French Frys and get a creamee at any roadside stand, play on Lake Champlain, hike around the Green Mountains)
2. Bellingham WA in late July-August (eat at the Fork at Agate Bay, ride MTB on Galbraith Mountain, climb Mt. Baker, paddle in Boundary Bay)
3. Ouray, CO in February (climb at the ice park, eat at Buen Tiempo or the Outlaw, relax in the vapor cave)
4. Cedar Key, Florida in January (channel your inner Buffett, hop a cheap ride with a fan boat to one of the uninhabited keys that lie just offshore, observe wild dolphins, but watch out for those horseshoe crabs)
5. Tulum, Mexico in October (ski at Coba, snow bike on the…oh wait. Wrong list. Do pretty much anything tropical. Mayan ruins are nice too.)
6. Whitehorse, Canada in September (Mountain bike. Just trust me on this.)
7. Blue River, Canada in March (eat, heli ski, relax, enjoy yourself at Mike Wiegele’s. Bring money. Does this count as “easy?” I suppose that’s an individual distinction)
8. San Francisco, CA anytime, it seems the same to me all year (land, rent a car, and drive north to the beaches and undeveloped areas. I’m sure there’s places to eat there. It’s California, how hard can it be?)
9. Honolulu, Hawaii, likewise, anytime (it’s Hawaii! It’s easy! But not cheap. Surf the North Shore, hang on the beach at Waikiki or in the park at Ala Moana, eat at any food truck – you won’t be sorry)
10. Anchorage, Alaska NEVER! (Go away.)

*That’s for you, Danni

Heli-skiing: You can do it naked if you have to, as long as you have the ten essentials listed below.

I’m getting gear industry fatigue. The constant silly and overblown marketing and equally silly and overblown consumer reaction to said marketing just makes me tired. I just saw an article about “essentials for heli-skiing” followed by a list of highly specific brands and products, most of which were just provided to the writer as part of a press trip, assembled as an “article” on the online version of a big magazine. Now, I’m a press trip fan myself (fun times!), but come on. If that isn’t the most transparent hidden advertising I’ve ever seen – no, I’m wrong, the huge “sponsored by BRAND X” banners on amateur athletes’ web-sites is the most transparent hidden advertising I’ve ever seen. You’re not sponsored athletes being recognized for your talent and high-level aptitude in your sport, you nitwits, you’re providers of incredibly cheap advertising being recognized for your willingness to provide your “sponsor” with a giant banner advertising their product, while truly talented and accomplished athletes scrape by trying to make it in a thankless profession. I’m more annoyed at the brands for this tactic than at you, but come on. Please tell me you at least see through that whole thing.

Whoops, tangent alert. Anyway, I thought I’d give you some real-world advice untainted by anything other than true appreciation for the joy that is heli skiing. May you all have a chance to try it even if you’re not taken on heli skiing press trips (I wasn’t, by the way. No bias here, ha ha).

The Head Geargal’s Ten Essentials For Heli Skiing: Don’t Take Off Without These

1. A helicopter
2. Skis
3. A helicopter pilot
4. Snow
5. A downward sloping surface
6. Non-fogging goggles (I know this from bitter experience)
7. Helicopter fuel, if you want to get technical about it
8. Ski boots
9. Ski bindings
10. The ability to get in the helicopter, get out, ski down, and repeat.

One through nine, no maybes, no supposes, no fractions. You can’t travel in space, you can’t go out into space, you know, without, like, you know, uh, with fractions – what are you going to land on – one-quarter, three-eighths? What are you going to do when you go from here to Venus or something? That’s dialectic physics.

OK maybe that awesome “insight” adds nothing (or maybe it does, you tell me), but it brings me to the next point.  Like wine, an excess of experience can lead to sensory impairment.  No doubt we’ve all reached the point of exhaustion or overload in some endeavor — marching through the snow pulling a sled brought me to the point of hallucination.  I have never before hallucinated during an endurance event, so that was a bit disconcerting.  But it was sort of awesome.  I saw dinosaurs and puppies and other fun animals in the snow.  They weren’t moving, they looked like snow sculptures, and really who’s to say that some great giant hand in the sky didn’t craft those animals from snow for my amusement.  Seriously, what is real?

Side note: interesting how it’s much more acceptable to walk 100 miles with a sled in Alaska than to drop acid (or drink too much wine).

The real kicker is that experience isn’t even static.  During my race I remarked frequently “this is hard” and “this sucks” and “why am I here?”  And while I know I was more than a little non-plussed at various moments during the event, my memories are nothing but warm and fuzzy.  My experience, whatever it was at the moment it occurred, has been reshaped and remolded into a different experience.  So the actual experience at the time it happened seems somewhat irrelevant.  Our minds are pretty capable of turning squares into circles so they can smoothly go in the box.  At some point it becomes impossible to know for certain what the experience really was.  So even if I splurged on a super expensive bottle of wine, would I remember the taste?  What would I remember about it?  Maybe ultimately how we remember an experience later matters the most.  No doubt many a falsely accused standing in a police line-up would attest to this.

What is the point of all this you ask?  Jill Homer and I are both wrong and both right.  Her Garmin’s truth is not mine.  There.  That settles it.