RSS Subscribe 866.891.9177

TMS Blog

Archive for the ‘Mountaineering’ Category

TMS and Boreas Introduce The Pack Tester Adventure Team!

Wednesday, August 22nd, 2012

Boreas Gear is an exciting new outdoor equipment company that states that “The best gear is neither complicated nor expensive yet as versatile as the person using it.” The undercurrent here is that Boreas has figured out the secret formula for such gear, or, at least, is working hard to find that formula.  How does a new company find the secret ingredients that it needs to be the best? It partners with Tahoe Mountain Sports to put together a pack testing adventure team! This team will be responsible for testing and providing real world feedback on the stylish backpacks. Who are the lucky seven  that have been chosen for the pack testing team, you ask? Let’s meet them, shall we?

Introducing The TMS/Boreas Pack Tester Adventure Team!

 

Name:  Ted Teske

Pack Testing: Buttermilk 55

“My job requires that I travel to some fairly remote and inhospitable locations. I’m always looking for gear that can keep me organized, dry in the field and stand up to the “not so gently” rigors of modern travel. Boreas packs interest me with their flexible  sleek designs that seem to hide the rugged construction under their well thought out features and aesthetics. We’ll see!”

 

 

Name: Andy Pattison

Pack Testing: Buttermilk 55

“I spend at least 2-4 weeks on the trails every year. As a result, I have become picky about packs and gear. This is why I am very excited to be a pack tester for the Boreas Buttermilk 55 and why I’m looking forward to checking it out during the second half of my honeymoon this fall.”

 

 

Name: Michael Detwiler

Pack Testing:  Repack 15

“I own a few Dakine packs and they have treated me well over the years. I’m interested in testing out a different brand to see what more modern-designs and different manufacturers have to offer. When I’m on my bike the Dakine packs seem to flop around a bit, I’m hoping the Boreas pack fits a bit more snug.”

 

 

Name: Adam Tirella

Pack Testing:  Lost Coast 60

“As someone who works at a job involving the outdoors, being able to play around with new gear is one of my favorite perks. I especially like the opportunities I get to try and support new brands that are pushing the envelope as far as form and function goes. I know firsthand, Boreas is one of those companies!”

 

 

Name: Anne Greenwood

Pack Testing: Lost Coast 60 Women’s

“I am working on completing the Tahoe Rim Trail this summer.  I have been solo backpacking and find my Gregory Pack to be like hoisting a bag of bricks onto my back. I am really looking to lighten up so I can move faster and not feel so broken after three-four days. I did get my pack down from 49 lbs (ouch!) to 28lbs, and I think the Boreas pack will get me down to 22….a very reasonable load! I may actually be able to bring a stove!”

 

 

 

 

Name: Sandy Jean Borden

Pack Testing: Lost Coast 60 Women’s

“I’m a gear junkie! I’m always critiquing and analyzing gear this is why I’m excited about this opportunity to share my experience with a Boreas Pack. Practicality, durability, comfort and unique features will be what I will be checking out and reporting on!”

 

 

Name: Mike Rommel

Pack Testing: Lost Coast 60

“The reason I would like to test Boreas Packs is that the pack looks innovative in design, contour and light in weight. I will be testing the pack on a full day high alpine, multi-pitch climb in the Palisades at Temple Crag. I look forward to the pack being comfortable with its ergonomic design.”

 

For the next month, these courageous testers will be embarking on grand adventures with their Boreas packs, giving them the ultimate “real world” challenge. Will these packs hold up against the vigors of our  outdoor adventure test team, or will  Boreas  actually wear out our mighty seven? Regardless of the outcome, this test can only make the world of outdoor adventure, a lot stronger.  Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion of the Boreas/TMS Pack Challenge!

See Previous Post “Gear Testers Wanted: Boreas Backpacks”

After Summiting Denali, Reflections on Training for the Climb

Tuesday, July 17th, 2012

Brad Miller and Clay Kimmi of Adventures for Action set out last May to climb the West Buttress of Denali (Mt. McKinley) to raise awareness and funds for the International Health Partners of the United States and Tanzania (IHP-TZ). This blog post is the third in a series Brad and Clay are writing for Tahoe Mountain Sports, who is helping to gear them up for Denali. In past posts, Brad mused on the difficulty of big mountain training and how they were training for the summit.

Anyone who participates in a big mountain expedition inevitably gets asked the same few questions over and over again. One of which is this one:
“Did you train hard enough?”
In the case of Clay and I the answer is yes and no.
However, when it was all said and done, we were definitely prepared enough to get up Denali, which we did in a very respectable time. After being stuck in weather for 4 days at 17,000 feet, we were able to summit on day 12 and were down on day 15. We were definitely up for the task.
Climbing Denali is definitely not easy. We both had times where one of us would crash and were hurting by the end of the day.  More than once I had to fight tooth and nail just to stay awake in camp long enough to quickly choke down as much food as possible before passing out in my sleeping bag.
Most amateur climbers occasionally have a few of those days where you think that you should have trained harder because you feel like you just can’t go on.  But, those days are one of the reasons we all get out there in the mountains.  Those days are the tests we seek; they are the proving grounds.  During the times when you feel like you are at the end of your reserves, you have the opportunity to grit your teeth, dig deep and find the hidden strength to succeed.  And, after all, that is what big mountain climbing is all about.

CLAY

Once on the mountain, Clay found that there was a distinct hole in his training regiment that left him hurting up to 14,000 feet.  When I asked him if he thought his training was adequate, his to-the-point reply says it all:
“Overall . . . no.  It was quite simply the lack of sled training that kicked my ass.  Not living and training at altitude was a small part of it, but the lack of strength training with the sled was what really affected me.”
No matter how much altitude you do with a heavy pack, everything changes when you pull a 70 lb sled. You have another item to deal with that is constantly trying to foul and trip you up.  You use different muscles than when just packing loads on your back. And combining all of this with skis makes everything that much more difficult.
In Kansas, Clay focused on stair climbing and running. While those activities certainly helped prepare him for the mountain, he neglected training with a sled and paid the price. Having trained up to 70 lbs with a pack while in his hotel stairwell in Kansas City, he felt fit and prepared. However, adding another 70 lbs on a sled that constantly fought upward progress showed him just how possible it is to take yourself to the end of your energy reserves while hauling heavy loads.
In addition to the hard work of pulling a sled up, Clay, a Kansas dweller, was not able to practice skiing downhill with a pack and sled. This missing skill set was desperately missed on our descent.  Add to that bad breakable crust snow conditions, the descent was a constant fight instead of a pleasant cruise back to base camp.
In reflecting back on how he trained, Clay said that aside from obviously adding a heavy sled element, he would have focused more on interval training in place of long distance running as he feels the intervals were more beneficial.

BRAD

For my part, training in the Tahoe region served me well.  Throughout the summer months I was able to pack very heavy loads to altitudes of 10,000 feet on a regular basis.  The winter months allowed me to train in a manner that exactly reflected the work we were to undertake on the mountain.  Being able to work up to a 65 lb pack and 70 lb sled while skinning  up and skiing down packed forest service roads helped my mind and body comprehend and prepare for the task ahead.  Doing all this work at an altitude of over 6,000 feet made me that much more fit and I feel like Clay underestimates how much working out at 700 feet set him back.  Although he spent a week in Colorado before flying to Alaska, I don’t think this “acclimation trip” helped him much.  To access Denali’s West Buttress route you fly in to base camp at 7,200 feet. While my blood was already accustomed to this “daily living” altitude, Clay had to immediately started acclimatizing and so was handicapped from the start.
I agree with Clay that interval training was very important, surprisingly so in fact.  It is counter-intuitive to think of interval training as preparation for mountain climbing because there are no sprint-rest periods like in soccer or football.  What we discovered, however, was at 17,000 feet and above, a simple slip or stumble that requires a fast movement to correct constitutes a sprint.  These snap reactions skyrocket your heart rate and breathing and intervals definitely helped in recovery during these situations.  Intervals also greatly helped me lower what I call my working heart rate — the heart rate level I maintain when slowly slogging up the hill in a pace where I can climb for an hour or two without stopping to rest.

Mammut Alyeska Jacket
Mammut Alyeska Jacket
MSRP: $698.95

For the Love of Training

Friday, March 16th, 2012

Brad Miller of Adventures for Action sets out this May to climb the West Buttress of Denali (Mt. McKinley). This “adventure” is to raise awareness about the “action” they’re striving to achieve, which is currently fundraising for the International Health Partners of the United States and Tanzania (IHP-TZ). Read more about both the Adventure and the Action of Adventures for Action on their website. This blog post is the first of a series Brad is writing for Tahoe Mountain Sports, who is helping to gear him up for Denali.

I have never been fond of training and I think it is a safe assumption that I am not alone in this feeling.  I dislike activities that are physical prerequisites to the “real thing” and because of this feeling, most training that I have done has felt joyless and perfunctory.  I have been very fortunate in that much of my life has been actually living the “real thing.”  I have lived in Yosemite, trekked in Nepal and climbed in many countries abroad.  In these places I did not need to train because I was always doing the activities one might train for.  We did not train to climb; we climbed. And I was physically the better for it.

Since childhood I have always hated to practice and loved to play.  My father would tell me that I had to take the good with the bad and that I was not allowed to participate if I did not put in the work. He left the choice up to me, never forcing activities upon me and so I was able to think on my young priorities and decide what was worth sticking with.  Boy scouts was not; I loved camping, canoeing and learning to shoot, but the meetings and merit badges where too much to put up with.  Wrestling was worth the bad, even though practice was brutal and I often found myself close to vomiting due to the effort.

This feeling about practice has remained unshakable into my adult life, and now training equals practice.  It does not matter how or what I am training for—on a hang board for climbing, riding intervals or hills for an upcoming road or cyclocross race—it’s all the same.  I am ashamed to say that I don’t even particularly enjoy skills training, although I recognize it as absolutely necessary and so strive to learn the necessities that help keep my partners and me safe.  Compared to skills training however, physical training has always seemed to me to be like clockwatching.

And so it was, when faced with the challenge of making an attempt on Denali in May 2012, I was presented with another challenge.  A challenge, I dare say, equal to that of the climb itself. . . the dreaded training.  Training for a climb like Denali is a long affair and despite the ability to peak bag that Tahoe affords, inevitably the process turns repetitive and mundane.  These feelings are accentuated for me by those days when I cannot afford the time to get into Desolation Wilderness.  This inevitably leaves me running, which I loathe, or humping weight up a long forest service road still thinly covered by a weak winter’s ice and snow.  These are the types of things that I would never, ever do for fun, and so I see them as the biggest of chores.  That is, until recently.

On December 9th my brother Russ, who by trade is a climber on a tree trimming crew, was crushed by a 1,500-pound log.  The trauma from the accident broke and dislocated his hip, fractured 4 vertebrae, ripped the meniscus from its mount in his knee and tore 40 percent through one of his bicep mounts.  To say that Russ is lucky to be alive is, for him, as true as it is bitter.  Although thankfully not paralyzed from the accident, Russ is an avid climber and runner and the great log squashing with four subsequent surgeries spread across five months has taken away the physical activities he loves for a long time to come.  With lots of future hard work, many months of time and a fair amount of luck, my climbing partner, brother and best friend will make a good recovery.  But for now, his inability to exercise is taking a physical and mental toll.

In late February Russ and I spoke for a long time about what exercise and outdoor activities mean to us.  He talked about his love of running, how he loves to push past the inevitable “bad section” of a long run and move into the part where he feels like everything is right and he could go on forever.  Pre accident Russ would do this often, running 10 or more miles in a session.  He runs not only for the positive physical effects but also for the love of the movement and the way it makes him feel.  Upon being asked how his run is, it is common for him to answer, “It was the best ever.”

Although Russ sometimes runs 5k races and half marathons (a stress fracture prevented him from participating in the Phoenix marathon), he does not run to train.  He runs to run.  For me, exercise as training for the main event is one thing but running to run is another beast entirely.  This idea, if not totally foreign to me was once hard to understand. I would never run for the sake of it, and in training daily to get fit for another activity I find it hard to maintain motivation.  Often when I am out hauling heavy loads in preparation for the physical toll on Denali I find myself wishing I was already done and counting the minutes or steps until I can quit.  Having set out with a specific session goal, I oftentimes have to consciously fight the pull to quit early and I sometimes lose.  After the conversation with my brother in February, however, that all changed.

I have often said that you don’t need to lose something to really appreciate it, you simply need to occasionally meditate on the things you have.  Similarly, when you see someone else go without or lose something dear to them it makes it even easier to appreciate what you maintain.  I experienced this while traveling through India and seeing the poverty and strife that is rampant there.  My brother’s accident and our subsequent conversation also poignantly illustrated this idea.

In our conversation he expressed a worry that because I tend to not want to be training that I miss out on so much while I am doing it—that I am so focused on the end goal that I lose sight of the journey.  This struck a chord which rang true.  Russ made me realize that I should be more in the moment, that I should appreciate every day that I am out there enjoying nature, pushing myself and getting stronger.  That I should not take even one day for granted.  I should remember, he told me, that he can’t get out there and won’t be able to for a long time, and getting after it is all he wants to do.

When I go out to train now I make sure to do whatever it takes to enjoy myself.  Sometimes that means slowing down and appreciating my surroundings; sometimes it means picking up the pace and really pushing.  Mostly, when I start to get down on myself and thoughts of wanting to quit creep in, or thoughts of not wanting to even go out at all arise, all I have to do is think of my brother.  I think about how much he wants to be out there, not training but just moving.  All I have to do is think of him and I am reminded of how lucky I am to even have the opportunity to train and all that negativity goes away.  In a way I am not only training for Denali, I am also training for him.

For over 8 years I have wanted to stand on the summit of Denali, and long ago I asked Russ if he wanted to someday try with me.  Despite his love of rock climbing he is not a mountaineer and knowing the high and inherent dangers he simply replied, half serious, half in jest, “Sorry bro, but I have no desire to walk into a white death with you.”  Accident or not, Russ would have never come to Denali with me in body, which is probably for the best as any long stormbound stint in a small tent would have lead to an inevitable murder.  Mine I suspect, as he is far stronger in both body and mind than I.  He will however come with me in philosophy.  When I find myself up there suffering—cold, tired, hurting and wanting to quit—all I will have to do is think of him and how he just wants to move and all that appreciation for where I am and what I am doing will come flooding back.  At least, I hope it does. . .

We appreciate Brad’s honesty. Training is hard. Do you struggle with training for mountaineering or other sports? Share your story in the comments.

Tahoe Mountain Sports Gift Cards Fast, easy, and one size fits all. Buy Now! Follow us: