TR: Mt Slurpee, Fourteener 06-16-07
Remember the Icee?
A frozen treat in a wax cup. 3 sizes, 3 flavors; cherry, grape and cola.
Before the slurpee, the slushie and the smoothie, the Icee was king. A smartly sweatered polar bear with a red scarf would peek out from behind the Icee logo, daring you to try one. A knowing look in his eye seemed to be saying: “You are about to embark on a journey of syrup and frozen ice shavings that will make your childhood complete
It's 7AM, the sun has been up awhile already
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School was out and I am 8 years old, it is a hot summer day and there is only one thing that will satisfy; the cold sugar crack of youngsters with an allowance. A quick trip on my Schwinn Stingray (with a banana seat and a Carl Yastremski baseball card proudly clothes-pinned to my spokes) to the 7-11 just three blocks away would yield the trophy of youth. A large Cola Icee! The cost was 25 cents, you had to pump the syrup yourself. The 7-11 guy would watch you carefully as prepared your own drink. For a few extra pennies you could score some Bazooka Joe bubble gum and maybe a Jolly Rancher or two.
The way up.
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Old soda bottles were the bartering means of exchange for an eight year old addict. The neighborhood was gleened for sticky old bottles of Fanta and Pepsi, No trash can was safe, the road was scoured on both sides for the golden litter, every bottle bringing you a nickel closer to your goal. The moment that the fifth bottle was found it was a race to the 7-11 with a bag of pirate glass. Turn in the bottles and receive your reward. The Icee firmly in hand, lid on, with a long red straw, was relished and worshipped as you sat on the curb in front of the little store.
The summit was a short hike from the lake. Amazingly beautiful moment at 14K. No wind, warm...in fact - may have been too warm...
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A summit Kiss
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Icee’s taught patience as you could only consume the beverage so fast. To the gluttenous and headstrong drinker lay the penalty for not sipping slow; the dreaded Icee headache, two minutes of torture and pain that no eight year old should ever suffer. A vice of enormous pressure applied equally to each temple turned little boys into screaming little girls. “Just make it stop…I will do anything!”
A short downclimb to the top of a great looking snowfield.
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Summer time is magic when you are eight years old. A special time of the year when being a kid was the pinnacle of human evolution. Kids own the summer. The smell of chlorine from the local pool and freshly mowed grass, the taste of bubble gum on your tongue, grasshoppers fleeing your path as you walk through the fields on a new adventure of a hot summer morning. Boredom was the enemy; bicycles, pools and baseball were your shields of defense. Cut-off jeans and plain white t-shirts were the uniforms of the faithful, stained with the cherry red blood of candy and Kool-Aide.
Let the skiing begin!
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I have now been through many many summers, Somewhere along the way it has lost most of it’s magic. But every now and then, the smell of a pool full of kids or a field of wild grass, will bring me right back. I want nothing more than to ride my bike down to the local 7-11 and have an Icee as I sit on the stoop. The polar bear winks and nods approvingly
Boston Sarah
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Some thicketeering on the way out
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Our route down = blue dots, red pac-mans = safe zones to stop in.
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Lines to the lookers left.
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Pretty picture on the way out
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Mt Democrat
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It was too warm for safe skiing. We left the Summit around 10:30, The conditions looked great on the way up, firm and nicely frozen from the night before. We were wrong.
As we dropped in I made the first few turns, went over the handlebars, recovered, made another two turns when I saw over my right shoulder some sluff following me from my last turn. I skied right through it and realized it was substantial. I rode right out of it and stopped to wait. I watched the sluff ride all the way down the face, gathering more steam. SHHHHHH was all I could hear and actually was very loud. This is when I got a bit nervous.
Seeing this picture later, I realize I set off two more sympathetic point releases from the rocks to the lookers right. I couldn't have known from where I was at the time. The slop was only 4-6" deep, had it been any more deep I could have been in some serious trouble, the slide went a long way.
Christian and Sarah were great. we made our way down very carefully. we picked good safe zones and skied one at a time till we were well out of danger. As were coming down we could see other point releases going off around us. Every turn sent a little sluff going. We skied the bed surfaces most of the way down.
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Everybody was fine, It could have been much worse. But I think we all agreed that it was too late for this descent. It just didn't get cold enough the night before and we were skiing on a record-breaking hot day.
8 hours after starting up, were back at the shuttle car at Montgomery and glad to have put such an awesome day behind us.
I have had enough of slurpee's, Icee's or snowcones for awhile...I need a beer.
