For the Love of the Sufferfest: 18491

Prologue A question I get asked a lot is Why? This has been asked a lot over the past 8 years. I've always struggled to explain to my family and my non-snowboarding/skier friends what snowboarding means to me. I'm sure a lot of us struggle with that. It doesn't make sense to wake up before dawn, freeze your ass off, climb a mountain, and be a varying degree of miserable the entire way up (and sometimes down) all for the sake of making turns strapped to a piece of wood. For me, it's those moments of freedom the mountains give. The chance to live in the moment. The chance to explore. See new places, meet new people. Yes, sometimes it's a sufferfest. But the best things in life never come easy. Plus dealing with adversity usually gives you pretty good stories to tell. I'm not trying to convince anyone that I'm a badass by telling these stories because I'm certainly not a badass. I just enjoy telling what I think are good stories, whether it's here on the internet machine or sitting on a front porch with a cold beer and good friends. The following is a story I've only told a handful of people. Most of my family hasn't even heard it. I consider it my proudest achievement in my short 26 years of life. I'm not sure why I am just now getting around to telling it. It's time to tell it though. If you really know me, you already know what it is. Number one in the countdown. For the Love of the Sufferfest: Pico de Orizaba. Let's start this from the beginning... Chapter 1 It all started with a photo. I was sitting in the Marriott Library at the University of Utah. It was the first day of the fall semester in my senior year. Instead of studying, I was browsing through photos from my snowboard trip to Argentina, which I had just gotten back from a few days prior. A message popped up on Facebook from Greg Dickie, whom I'd just met on that same trip. Attached was an image of an impressive looking mountain with the question what do you think of trying to go skiing in Mexico?! I was sold immediately. I'd heard of people skiing the big volcanoes in Mexico before. I never really put much thought in it though. Until now. Chapter 2 At 18,491 feet above sea level, Pico de Orizaba is the highest point in Mexico, and 3rd highest on the North American continent. Prior to this trip the highest I'd ever been was just under 12,000. The altitude was the biggest variable. The good news was we were going in November, so I had time to try and get in relatively good shape before the trip. The bad news was we were going in November, which meant it would be the beginning of the ski season, meaning I wouldn't be in touring shape. Fast forward to October. My flight to Mexico City was booked. I say flight because we decided to book one way tickets. We figured we had a week to 10 days for a summit bid. However, we didn't want the constraint of having to rush back to Mexico City for a return flight if we hadn't had the chance to go for the summit yet. Joining us on the trip would be Greg's son Kai, and Greg's friend Todd Mansfield. About 30 days from departure, I called my parents to tell them the news. I remember my mom answering the phone. I told her I wouldn't be able to come home for Thanksgiving. Naturally she assumed I couldn't get the time off from work. What I said next obviously shocked her. The conversation went something like this: Me: So I'm going to Mexico to go snowboarding... Mom: What? Me: I'm going to Mexico...to go snowboarding Mom: There's snow there?!? Me: Yeah. But not below like 17,000 ft. We're gonna go climb the highest peak in Mexico and snowboard off the top of it. Mom: ............ Me: My flight is already booked. Mom (at this point is clearly not happy with what she's hearing): Well...when do you leave and get back? Me: We leave the 22nd. I don't know when we will be back. Mom (really mad now): What do you mean you don't know when you'll be back?! Me: Oh, well...we booked one way so we aren't constrained to a small window of time Mom (borderline crying at this point): Is it safe?!? Me: Of course it's safe.......................... At this point I'd like to take a moment to apologize to my mom for all the worry I've caused her over the years with some of my adventures. Mom, I'm sorry. I know you're reading this. I love you. Anyways, back to the story... Chapter 3 The adventure doesn't begin till something goes wrong... The morning of November 22 had come. Time to go. All I had to do was go out my 2nd story apartment door, put my stuff in the car and drive to the airport. Too bad the adventure decided to begin before that could even happen. It was 3am, my flight was at 5. And I had somehow managed to get locked INSIDE my apartment. I'm not making that up. I couldn't open the front door. I called the 24 hour emergency maintenance line and they said they could be there at 6. Too bad my flight would already be en route to Phoenix, AZ by then. The locking mechanism of the door was somehow broken so the door simply wouldn't open. Meanwhile it was getting closer to departure time. I contemplated just jumping out the window, but a 10 ft fall to concrete didn't exactly seem like a good idea. So I gathered up some tools, totally fucked up the door frame and pried the door open. Freedom! I kept the door open as I loaded my stuff up. I thought I had everything so I closed the door, knowing it wouldn't open again. It was at this moment I realized my jacket was still inside on the couch. Fuck. I basically ran through the door to get it open again. That really fucked it up. My flight was leaving in 45 minutes and I had a 30 minute drive to the airport still. I grabbed my jacket, left the door open and drove as fast as possible down to the SLC airport. American still let me check my bags. Hooray for small miracles! I ran through security and to my gate. The plane was boarded and the door was getting ready to close. As I handed my boarding pass to the gate agent, an error flashed as they scanned it. I thought I had missed my flight. Instead, I was handed a new boarding pass. Upgraded to First Class! Haha! What a start to the trip! Chapter 4 I met up with Greg, Kai, and Todd in Phoenix for our connecting flight to Mexico City. We definitely got some weird looks in the Mexico City airport as we wheeled our ski gear to the rental car desk. This is where the adventure began for those guys. Greg had taken the liberty of reserving a rental car before our arrival. A 4x4 SUV so we would have room for all our shit. Well...we got gringoed. The rental company said that we didn't have a reservation, even though Greg had a printed confirmation of our reservation. Finally after about an hour of back and forth with multiple rental companies, they sent us on a van to an offsite rental office. We though we'd finally gotten it worked out...Wrong! First they wanted some outrageous deposit, something upwards of $15,000. Maybe it was more. I don't know. It was something asinine though. Todd put the deposit on his credit card, and became honorary driver for the duration of the trip in the process. They wheeled our alleged 4x4 SUV around for us...and it was neither and SUV or had 4x4 capabilities. They'd given us a Renault Duster. Basically a clown car. Now, there are 4 of us plus ski gear plus camping gear plus climbing gear. And somehow we had to fit all of that into this car no bigger than a Prius. We got all the gear in. The only problem was there wasn't much room left for people. The rental car guy thought it was funny as hell. We awkwardly piled into the car and off we went. Oh and we couldn't use the seat belts because all of our gear was in the way. Chapter 5 Our first stop would be the 15,350 ft volcano, Nevado de Toluca. We figured this would be a good mountain to climb to help acclimate for Orizaba. There was also a hut at 13,000 ft, so we would be able to sleep up high. We spent 2 days at Nevado de Toluca. The first day, we walked around inside the caldera, at an elevation of roughly 13,800 ft. Good news/bad news about the hut: The good news is it looked really nice, as far as mountain huts go. The bad news was it was still being worked on and the workers were reluctant to let us use it at first. We paid them to let us use it. The inside smelled strongly of paint fumes. We figured one of three things would kill us that night: The paint fumes, the altitude, or the reluctant construction workers. I spent that first night at altitude with a strong headache and a bit of a nosebleed. Not sure if it was from the fumes or the altitude. Probably a little of both. Kai was having a hard time with it too. I think we all were. We awoke the next morning to begin our climb. The caldera of Nevado de Toluca is abolutely stunning. If there were ever enough snow, it would make for some incredible ski descents to the lakes in the middle of the crater. However, there was no snow when we were there. The climb was mostly boulder scrambling, which at the time, I wasn't super comfortable with. Mainly because I was very inexperienced. Lucky for me, Greg and Todd are both expert climbers and were willing to coach me through every move. I should mention I was climbing in my Vans. Obviously not the footwear you want for climbing a 15er or any other mountain for that matter. It worked, though. My body seemed to be dealing with the altitude just fine as well. The formula of drinking tons of water seemed to be working. I was pretty nervous throughout the climb, both from being unsure of how I would handle the altitude and mainly from being inexperienced with the type of climbing we were doing. I was able to push through my doubts and make it to the summit. It was a cool moment. The other guys continued along the ridge traverse while I carefully boot skied back down to the lakes at the floor of the crater. Chapter 6 It was time to head to Orizaba. After a night in town, we made the all day drive to the village at the base of the mountain. We stayed with Servimont, a hostel in Tlachichuca that was once a soap factory. It was a really cool place to stay. They provide 4x4 transport to the hut on Orizaba. Let's be honest, the Duster wouldn't stand a chance getting up there. After a good night's sleep, we packed up the truck and rode up to the Piedra Grande Hut at an elevation over 13,000 ft. Me, Greg, and Kai chose to walk the final mile or so to the hut to help with acclimatization. The views were stunning. I wasn't feeling any adverse affects from the altitude. The next day we did a hike to acclimate and to haul ski gear up to high camp at roughly 15,500 ft. The next day would be our summit bid. We returned to the hut and prepared for the big day. Chapter 7 A lot of the climbers thought we were crazy for thinking we could ski it. Many told us it was a bad idea due to how icy the glacier was. Some thought we shouldn't even try. We discussed it and decided we would at least bring our stuff with us and if we didn't like the conditions we wouldn't try to ride down. The night before our summit bid was the worst night's sleep of my life. Summit day starts at midnight so going to bed early is a must. That isn't so much a problem since it was dark shortly after 6pm. However, my mind was racing. I was having a lot of doubts that night. While I was psyching myself out trying to get some sleep, my family was enjoying Thanksgiving dinner back home. I kept going to some pretty dark places in my head. What if it all goes wrong tomorrow and they never see me again? Should I really be here? What if I just bail on trying to summit? Is it worth it? I guess I was finally able to cry myself to sleep because my alarm woke me up at midnight. After forcing down some food, we geared up and began the long hike up at 12:30 am. Chapter 8 We reached high camp where we'd stashed our gear the previous day. Kai was feeling ill from the altitude. He and Greg made the tough decision to head down. Kai was only 12 years old at the time. I was incredibly proud of him on that trip. I thought it was awesome how he was willing to attempt to ski one of the highest mountains on the continent at such a young age. Kai truly is a badass. I got scared when they turned around. Todd and I still had our guide. But Greg is somewhat like an older brother to me. I'm comfortable with him in the mountains. It was especially nice having his guidance on this trip since I was well out of my comfort zone. I wanted to push through my doubts and keep going up. So up we went. Now with fully loaded packs with the addition of my splitboard and Todd's skis. Chapter 9 I'm glad we still had our guide to lead the way through what is referred to as "The Labyrinth" which is essentially a rock maze at the toe of the glacier that can be difficult to navigate. By this point, every step I took was a personal best for altitude. Every step taking me higher than I'd ever been before. We reached the glacier at dawn. It was the most beautiful sunrise I'd ever seen. We began the long climb up the glacier to the summit. Movement at altitude was slow. The added weight of ski gear definitely wasn't helping. Every few steps we would stop to catch our breath. We were the last climbing party to reach the summit. We'd made it. 18,491 ft above sea level. The highest people in Mexico. And possibly the highest in North America, assuming no one would be attempting Winter ascents of Mt. Logan or Denali. The nice thing about summiting last was we had the peak to ourselves. We high fived, snapped some photos, and just hung out for a while on Mexico's rooftop. It was time to go snowboarding in Mexico. Chapter 10 Todd clicked into his skis and went first. Cautiously making his way down the icy slope. It was my turn. I'd made the decision to ride with my ice axe in hand, just in case. I made the first turns very cautiously to see if I had edge hold. It seemed as if I did. Until I didn't. The biggest difference riding at altitude presents is that riding down is harder than hiking up. Usually riding down allows you to catch your breath. It's easier than hiking up. Not at 18,000 ft though. I thought I had edge hold, so I started to open it up. Treating it as I would back home. That's when shit went south for me. I came into a heelside turn and immediately was on my ass, picking up speed, falling down the mountain. I self arrested with my ice axe and eventually came to a stop. Later I would see how beat up I got. That night when I took my pants off, my entire left ass cheek and thigh were severely bruised to the point that my skin was jet black. After stopping my fall and catching my breath, I completely changed how I rode down. From that point, I slowly crept down, making slow jump turns then stopping for a minute or 2 to catch my breath. It was the worst run of my life. And definitely the least prettiest turns I'd ever made. I survived, though. The bottom of the glacier was actually fun. It was low angle and had corned up a bit. We got to the end of the snow and were totally spent. Chapter 11 We still had a long hike down... we were both pretty tired, our packs felt much heavier. We were stopping very frequently to rest. I was the last person back to the hut, just after 4 pm. The truck was already there to take us down. It was already loaded up too. I used every last bit of strength I had to climb inside. Off we went. I called my parents as soon as we got back to the hostel. They were very happy to hear my voice. They were even happier when I told them I was successful. I asked if they could book me on a flight to Florida the next day. I wanted to get the fuck out of Mexico and just decompress for a few days before returning to Salt Lake. We drove back to Mexico City the next morning, said goodbye to our clown car Renault Duster, said goodbye to each other and went to our respective gates. The adventure was over. Chapter 12 I arrived in Orlando, FL that night, exhausted and probably not smelling that great from the previous 7 days. My parents were waiting for me in baggage claim. My mom was crying. Mt dad had the biggest shit eating grin on his face. I'll never forget that moment. I think it was at this point they realized what snowboarding meant to me. It wasn't just some hobby. They realized it was a big part of me. That I was willing to suffer for it. They were very happy to see me. I was extremely happy to see them. It was great to be home. Epilogue So that's it. The biggest sufferfest of my life...so far. It has been almost 3 years since I went snowboarding in Mexico. That day was also the start of my current 34 month streak or snowboarding. If I did it again, I would bring a fully cambered board with sharp edges. I would probably train harder prior to going as well. The summit of Pico de Orizaba remains the highest point I've ever been. Eventually I would like to try and go to 20,000. That is my ultimate goal. I don't know if/when that will happen. I'd like to try though. Just to see if I could handle it. If you made it this far, thanks for reading! I know this was a long one. To answer the question, Why? For the love of the sufferfest!