Ski Arpa is a dream.

Ski Arpa is a dream. 2,000 hectares of wide open Andes powder just outside a sleepy town called Los Andes. The operation holds true to their claim of  'backcountry skiing in the shadow of the Aconcagua Mtn;' the tallest mountain in South America.

Shea & I checked into the sprawling Casa San Regis lodge just as the sunset over the valley's many rows of vineyards. Our room was monstrous. The living/dining room boasted a giant stone fireplace and a few lounging couches. The food was spectacular and served by candlelight. Incredibly intimate really. Too bad Shea was rolling with me and I with him. 

We drove for over an hour up a single track dirt road of gnarly switchbacks. The potholes were craters and the goats made from entertaining obstacles. The ride up did nothing to ease my already nauseous stomach. Not too worry, my health quickly turned for the better after seeing the lines we would be skiing over the course of the day.

Simply put, the skiing was epic. We managed 5 runs for over 15,000 vertical feet of virgin turns. Pretty special. 

The story of Arpa is special in its own right. Back in the late '70s an Austrian named Toni Sponar purchased the 2,000 hectares of mountain land with the dream of opening a ski resort. By 1984, Toni had built a small lift in the Arpa valley and opened for business. His wish for plenty of snow was granted. Unfortunately, the 8 meters that fell wiped out both his lift & his finances. He was back to square one: skinning up the faces & guiding tours through his personal backcountry. 

Down, but not out. Toni continued to hold onto his dream and by 2003 had saved enough money to purchase two snowcats to lead his clients up the mountains. The operation is tight: 2 cats, 4 guides & a small 20'x10' stone hut at the 'base.' Unfortunately, we didn't have the privilege to ski with Toni, but we did pass by him late in the day. Shea & I skiing down and Toni skinning up to the stone hut. At 74 he still runs the show, still skis & most importantly still schemes and dreams of how to further improve his 2,000 hectare mountain playground of powder. Toni is a legend.

www.casasanregis.cl

www.skiarpa.com

Our pics from the day: 

http://picasaweb.google.com/sbbrady/SkiArpa?authkey=Gv1sRgCM6X5sb88N6j8QE&feat=directlink

Shea's 3-pt turn.

 

The beauty of holding the camera is capturing the awkwardness of others. The subtle & candid moments when one's least expecting to be documented. 

Here's Shea trying to climb back down from the ledge. 

http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/JDL2zV4BAaRgBqr2yDgNcQ?authkey=Gv1sRgCO6ntJ_9wtm3Ng&feat=directlink

Man did we rip.

Man did we rip. 

For the past couple of weeks I've been rolling with Shea. We started out with a warm-up weekend in Haliburton. Managed a solid 7am waterski session with Killer on Boshkung Lake. Impressive after only a couple hours sleep. We all had a number of laps through the course and a few barefoot passes. Easily 10 yrs since I last went 'footing. Killer, you run a tight operation.

Take a look at Killer jumping on the boom from the boat, shimmying out at 40mph and then kicking a one-foot. Impressive. 

http://picasaweb.google.com/sbbrady/KillerOnTheBoom?authkey=Gv1sRgCOaJyqmM2I6_pAE#5375850927932074354

Twas a beauty day. A real Haliburton cracker. 

The below Picasa link has a number of pics and a few videos of ripping the course and running the boom.

http://picasaweb.google.com/sbbrady/RippingTheRadar?authkey=Gv1sRgCMrEgP3ZxrK2Xw&feat=directlink

Chile

Hey Shea, I'm back. Get over it.

Its been quite the while so I'll just jump right to it. I spent the past 10 weeks back home in Canada. Mostly up at my cottage in Haliburton. Waterskied nearly everyday. Managed a number of side trips: NY, Minnesota, Vancouver, Montreal. 

I'm now down in Chile. Spending a couple of weeks skiing with Colin. Has been epic so far. Three solid days on the mountains: El Colorado, Portillo & Cat skiing at Arpa. 

Again, I'll let the pictures speak:

http://picasaweb.google.com/sbbrady/ChileWillie?authkey=Gv1sRgCMSNyOazqKvv2QE&feat=directlink

Lastly, a line we've found gets a worthy and confused laugh, "Estoy embarazada."

I turned 28 today and had a bit of a throwback.  I'm sitting up at Eagle Lake and have had a good day. 

Dad and I planned our day around the hockey game. Pretty much counted down to the 8 o'clock puck drop and completed what was needed before faceoff. 

Puttered around over at Matty's cottage. His basement renos are coming along very well. There is much landscaping to do. I'll stick up my hand for that role: building a couple retaining walls around the septic, lay a path way out of the exposed rock, turn the wood scraps into benches & burn the balance. Fun stuff. Outdoor grunt work. Something I've been in short supply of the past 5yrs. 

Was craving a Wild Orchid Thai feed so I booted to Minden in the 335x. Clear country road sailing. Hard to argue with really, but did have to restrain the desire to open it up. 

Walked back into the cottage at ten to 8. Plenty of time to settle in, dish out the grub and watch CBC usher in a playoff game. Still getting used to the absence of their theme song. Picked Talbot to have a good game. 2 goals and 1st star later he and the Pens were celebrating a necessary victory. Good to talk hockey with Pete.

By midnight I was replying to some birthday notes and uploading wedding pics when three random dudes knocked on the outside glass door. WTF? Turns out they had been paddling Moose & Eagle lake for the past 6hrs. Morons. The sun had set 3hrs earlier.  They paddled from Moose, through the narrows, up to the Inn and over to the Pink Palace. They had been drifting, following the shore, trying to get back home. They were successfully lost.  I drove them home. 

 On my return trip to the cottage, solo, I had a throwback. The sky hosted a near full moon. Bright. Left little space for the stars to shine. The lake was dead calm - a skiers dream - and the moon rays brushed its surface. I rolled the windows down, turned the stereo volume up - had an old Gomez disc playing - and recalled the late nights when Dad would take me for a boat ride under the light of the moon. We'd be the only sound on the lake. The only movement in the still calm. Our hull cutting through the glass. The closest feeling to flight on water. 

I geared down to slow the truck. Wanted the midnight view of the Bahamas to last. The ski hill chair lifts reflected the moon and in between tracks I caught the call of a loon. They're likely nesting again over on the island. 

Arrived home, parked the truck and walked to the dock. The moon's reflection shone all the way across Eagle to my seat. I sat back, put my feet up on the railing and took a number of deep breaths. Cleared the lungs. Looked up at the night sky only to spot the moon and one clear big dipper. The loon's voice interrupted the silence. Within a minute, he reached out again. I cupped my hands and echoed a response. I think he was wishing me a happy birthday. 

a little recap of the past month. well really the first 3weeks trekking up to everest base camp, over the cho-la pass to gokyo and down the valley to lukla's steep heck of an airstrip out.

i decided a slideshow could do better justice than words. plus, i still have one day in ktm and want to go check out the Bagmati river.

-sbb

KTM: thoughts and pics.

Kathmandu is a dust storm. A frenzied pulse. A spectrum of colours. Hindi and Buddhist threads weave a rich fabric. The traffic burps. There is a steady stream of horns from the cars & bikes. Pedestrians wear masks to avoid choking on the exhaust & dust. Livestock get the right of way.

A river runs through Old Kathmandu. It resembles more of a liquid garbage dump than water. A sludge of methane coats the suface. The pennyless sift amongst the riverbanks for any potential value. The bridge which crosses the river boasts a local market: fruit & vegetables spread on carpets next to Khukuri knives and children crawling out of their mothers arms.

The city is frantic. The city is fluid.

http://picasaweb.google.com/sbbrady/Kathmandu?feat=directlink

(a few random shots through KTM).

Few Pics...

Take a look at the below link for a few pics of Nepal:

The first two are of me crossing the Cho-la Pass at 5340m. The following are shots of Everest's West side and of Base Camp.

http://picasaweb.google.com/sbbrady/Nepal?feat=directlink

Dali-zuntight

I took a small day trip up to a town called Kungjung (3900m) today. A small mountain town home to the Hillary School and a Buddhist monestary famous for having a Yeti skull on display.

Take a look at the picuture on the right of the following link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yeti

Anyway, I entered the monestary to witness a Lama prayer session. Very trance-like. After about 10 minutes one of the monks sneezed. I remained silent, but it certainly raised the question of "what does one say when a monk sneezes?"

-stumped.

... and then it hit me

I've been trekking for just over two weeks now, but I'm back in Namche and thus back online. Mind you the electricity in town has a tendency to shut off in the afternoon for indefinite periods of time. For the moment all is working.

Over the past couple weeks I've had many hours of reflection. Lots of time for mental drift.

So there I was trekking up to Labouche minding my step along the loose skree when 'it' hit me. My insides started barking like a rabid rottweiller. The churn was violent. It was at that moment that I realized I have two serious qualms with diarrhea:
i) I'm never certain how to spell it (diarrhea, diarrhoea...) and
ii) It never strikes just once.

On the trail, Immodium is its own food group.