Opening Day at A Basin

No, this isn't another throwback post, today, October 13th I welcomed in the 2013-14 ski season at Colorado's very own Arapahoe Basin Ski Resort. Ever since the first snow hit the mountains a few weeks back, my roommate and I had slowly been counting down the days until ski season started. It turns out my dances to the snow gods worked (or something like that). Thanks to a few inches of snow cover in the last week and the magic of snow making machines, A Bay officially announced on friday that they would officially open the gates 8:30 am Sunday morning. Any pre-existing plans were instantly dropped on the spot, we were going skiing.

Waking up groggy eyed to my alarm at 6:45 this morning, I rolled out of bed and began to pull on my ski gear. Wool socks were followed by shorts and snow pants. Beanies were stuffed into coat pockets, gloves into ski boots, after triple checking our passes were still hanging around our necks, we grabbed our gear and headed out the door. 

On the road at 7:30, we got in the car and headed West, where all the greatest adventures are waiting to be had. Snow capped mountains peek over the foothills in the distance.

Making our way towards the mountains, we passed the all-too-familiar landmarks any Colorado skiier can name by heart. Idaho Springs came and passed, the Georgetown scenic train chugged along the side of the mountain, and the bumblebee yellow Camaro monster truck stood proudly in front of the trailer park as it always does. Soon enough we had traversed Loveland Pass, crossed the Continental divide, and landed ourselves in the A Bay upper parking lot.

First official skiing picture of the year, proudly taken in the Arapahoe Basin Upper Parking Lot.

Buckling boots, strapping helmets and zipping jackets, skis over-shoulder, we made our way to the base of the mountain. While it was only half an hour since the lift had started running, the lines were long. Like us, many other skiers and snowboarders across the state couldn't wait to get back on the mountain.

With one lift open and hundreds of eager snow-enthusiasts wanting to get their opening day ski in, lift times were between 20 and 40 minutes long, for the short 2 minute trip back down the mountain. Worth it? Absolutely.

After the first grueling wait in the lift line, we had finally made it to the front. Passes scanned, we shuffled to the yellow "WAIT HERE" line in the snow. The four person chair swung around the corner and scooped us up. The feeling of the chair lifting you off the ground and up the mountain is one you will never forget, and let loose a feeling of bliss when we began to ascend the hill, officially starting our 2013 ski season at 9:16 on October 13th.

Getting off the lift at the top, we skied over to the top of the one run they had open for the day. Amidst the mess of people making their way down the hill, the moment was surreal, it seemed like it was just me, my skis, and the mountain. Carving my way down the hill, I was still in awe at what I was doing. It was the middle of October, Not even two weeks from Halloween, and I was skiing. 65 back in Denver and a torrential downpour back home in the midwest, I had found a slice of heaven that just happened to be covered in a blanket of snow. 

Ending the day with 7 runs, quite a few hours of waiting in line, and numerous impromptu snowball fights in the lift line, we packed up the car and headed back in the direction of Denver, leaving a successful opening day behind us. Starting my ski season almost a full 12 weeks ahead of last year, things are looking good, and there is no doubt there will be another ski report to come in the near future.

Until next adventure,

-jf

Ellison Bay

This post is a little bit of a throwback in terms of what I have posted and will be posting in the next week or so. Though not much of an adventure, I found some killer pictures from the trip I wanted to share. Mid-June after my Senior year of high school I helped my dad install some cabinets for a client of his at their summer home in Ellison Bay, Wisconsin. Leaving a day after him, I made the 5 hour trek to nearly the tip of Door County, WI with a last minute door and cabinet shelving units in tow. 

Growing up so close to the Wisconsin border, this sign was always... well, a sign, of good things to come. From mountain biking to the cottage to the Walworth County Fair, this sign meant freedom.

After 5 hours and a necessary Hardy's pitstop, where I fueled up on anything and everything they would deep fry and put bacon and cheese on, I found my self at my final destination, Ellison Bay. Knowing I still had a little bit of a drive to the cottage, I stopped at the first small park I could see the water from.

After driving for 5 hours there was no better sight to see than the water. 

Even though it was Mid-July, Ellison Bay was freezing, being one of the most northern bays in the greater Green Bay and Lake Michigan as a whole. Either way, there is no better feeling than getting your feet wet after a long drive.

Finishing the drive after my short detour, I arrived at the cottage just around sunset, just in time to snap a few pictures from the pier and beach just out the back door.

Having grown up going to southern Wisconsin lakes for water skiing and fishing, my mind was blown seeing how flat and clear the water was here. With the water as flat as glass, you could see out easily 50 feet in front of you, and from that, it was crystal clear straight to the bottom of the lake, each stone as clear as it would be holding it in front of your face.

The other amazing part about the "beach" outside the cottage was that it was made entirely of smooth stone, as was the entire bay floor. Every step you took you would find the most perfect skipping stone you'd ever found in your life, only to have that one trumped by one you found 15 seconds later. In what seemed like a dream, the stones would skip for ages across the flat water, finally sinking just as they became blurry in your line of vision. What else were the flat rocks good for? Stacking of course. The 'high score' for the weekend was 16, captured in this photo.

The second coolest shot I captured all trip, seeing the blue water meet the horizon in the seemingly endless distance across the bay was stunning, with the pier seemingly perching on top of the glassy pane of water.

No matter how corny it sounds, sunsets are beautiful, end of story

By far the most beautiful shot I took all trip. The last day we were there the winds kicked up a little bit, causing the water to break for the first time all trip and creating some crazy cloud formations as well.

Happening before I had even arrived on campus here at Denver, looking back on this trip I realized it doesn't take a certain place to have an adventure, but rather a state of mind. I'll quote the movie Up for this one, "Adventure is out there!" it's just up to you to get out there and find it for yourself.

Until next adventure, 

-jf

Fruita, Colorado Time lapse

As I'm going through all the pictures I've taken in the last year here in Colorado, I realized I've got my work cut out for me in terms of posting stuff until I'm completely caught up, so for now I'll start with something I've had for a while but just got around to posting.

Last spring break 3 friends and I packed our bikes and a week's worth of gear and food into the back of their '99 Suburban and set off with the end goal of Moab, Utah, also known as the holy ground of mountain biking in the United States. I'll have a full trip recap up hopefully later this week, but for now here is a time lapse I took on my GoPro our last night of camping, which we spent back in Fruita, Colorado, just outside of Grand Junction.

Unfortunately because of my lack of planning my GoPro ran out of battery way faster than I anticipated, but I still managed to grab a solid chunk of the evening on footage. Set up on a picnic table to snap a photo every 60 seconds, I even had the luck of catching a shooting star (check around :08). What this whole video really captures is what I absolutely love about camping, just you and your friends sitting around a camp fire having a good time. Camped out on the edge of a cliff with nobody within a 10 mile radius, we were just enjoying our last night of freedom before having to return back to society the next day.

Again, full Moab summary to come, this is just a little teaser for now

Until next adventure,
-jf

Going to the Mountains is Going Home - Intro


I'm Jack Foersterling. I'm a mountain biker, skier, writer, bike mechanic, slackliner, Eagle Scout, fisherman, rock climber, hammock-enthusiast, amateur iPhone photographer, longboarder, camper, and all around adventurer. Graduating high school in 2012 I sought to escape the Midwest that I had spent the last 18 years in and find something new. I landed myself at the University of Denver in beautiful Colorado. Growing up in Boy Scouts and eventually reaching my dream of Eagle Scout, I have always strived for adventure, from building mountain biking trails in my backyard, to living out of the back of a car for 5 days in Moab, Utah spending the days biking and exploring. I have always found peace within nature. There's something about leaving the fast-paced society that too many of us are stuck in and simply going on an adventure. John Muir said it best over 100 years ago,

"The tendency nowadays to wander in wildernesses is delightful to see. Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity; and that mountain parks and reservations are useful not only as fountains of timber and irrigating rivers, but as fountains of life. Awakening from the stupefying effects of the vice of over-industry and the deadly apathy of luxury, they are trying as best they can to mix and enrich their own little ongoings with those of Nature, and to get rid of rust and disease. Briskly venturing and roaming, some are washing off sins and cobweb cares of the devil's spinning in all-day storms on mountains; sauntering in rosiny pinewoods or in gentian meadows, brushing through chaparral, bending down and parting sweet, flowery sprays; tracing rivers to their sources, getting in touch with the nerves of Mother Earth; jumping from rock to rock, feeling the life of them, learning the songs of them, panting in whole-souled exercise, and rejoicing in deep, long-drawn breaths of pure wildness. This is fine and natural and full of promise. So also is the growing interest in the care and preservation of forests and wild places in general, and in the half wild parks and gardens of towns. Even the scenery habit in its most artificial forms, mixed with spectacles, silliness, and kodaks; its devotees arrayed more gorgeously than scarlet tanagers, frightening the wild game with red umbrellas, — even this is encouraging, and may well be regarded as a hopeful sign of the times." -John Muir, Our National Parks, 1901

Looking out my dorm window I see the now snowcapped Rocky Mountains in the not-too-far distance. To me they are more than just something to look at, they are somewhere to go, to explore, to write about, to be at home in, and that is exactly what I want to do for the rest of my life.


-jf