I captured these images back in 2006 at Lake Tahoe. Two friends and I ventured west to slide our shred-sticks down mountains. Twas my first time past doing so. This past week I scanned the negatives from that trip, converting them to digital files.
Many great photos exist amongst those digital negatives. Here are a few which could not wait to be published online.
Enjoy, until the shred returns.
El fin, or the end, (for those who don’t understand foreign languages) implies a linear progression. I don’t think of life as linear. Therefore, I don’t think of life’s experiences as linear. Yes, things begin that may not have existed before. But, let’s get cosmic for a second: do experiences ever really end?
Snow falls, piles up, then it melts – it’s the hydrogen cycle baby! During the 3rd step of the cycle, evaporation, snowboarders go back to riding skateboards, swinging golf clubs, pedaling bikes, eating burritos, folkin’ etc; but, the thoughts of last season always linger. Piling up like the snow did last fall. As seasons go by and by, the end gets easier, but it also seems to occur later and later into the Spring. In 2012, April 28 marked my final day strapping on a snowboard and in 2013, April 20th.
But after 15 years of sliding sideways, I’m okay with that. Yes, I am always looking forward to Winter and shredding. But, I know Winter will return, global warming or not. I’m done with whining about it being “over.” Because it is not over, we’re just fasting. So, this post tributes my final indulgence before a 7-month fast from sliding sideways.
A brief summation of the Tuckerman’s Ravine Trip:
Leave Friday and climb a real rock for the first time. Camp in the backyard of a dude who had an elk rack on his house. He enjoys wine and climbing. His girlfriend has 5 girls from the college where she teaches outdoorsy stuff. The first thing she tells us is that they are all devote christians.
- Awake Saturday and found a great deal on bagels – eat 6 bagels all day.
-Begin hike up the Tuckerman Ravine Trail at 8am. Use the splitboard, make it up the 2.5 trail in 1:45:00.
-The ravine is bullet-proof ice; hike up anyway. Make 2 turns and slide down 300 ft on my ass. Proceed to hang out in bowl with snow-margaritas, bourbon and other stuff. Have a fun, safe ride down the Sherburne trail.
- Go to a parking lot somewhere in the Whites to cook fish, venison and sausage. Also, drink more bourbon.
-Fall asleep, wake up, check out a local crag, an drive home to a 70F Philadelphia.
The fast has begun.
Posted in Black and White, Snowboarding
High school. I grew up in South Central Pennsylvania, about 45 minutes North of Baltimore. When people began leaving the cities – Baltimore, York, Harrisburg, Lancaster – Hanover made sense to start new families. The town is an hour from all these metros and nestled in a rural area of Southern PA and Northern MD. This left a good blend of the ‘burbs and the country.
A good friend of mine in highschool owned a farm. On his farm we spent many nights around fires in the field or on the front steps of the barn. This night, for whatever reason, we spent in the woods cutting down a tree. Luckily, I had my camera in tow.
Posted in Black and White
Holidays bring us all together. As I get older, it seems I only see my friends on select holidaze. Christmas typically brings a snowboarding session full of roast beef grabs.
This year, however, the warm temps only allowed a concrete bowl session at Reid Menzer Memorial Park. Both are enjoyable, albeit I’d rather be shredding. These are a few quick shots I snapped Joey Murphy riding the concrete wave.
Every Friday the VIUS team unwinds with some ping-pong.
Posted in Digital, Time Lapse
I moved away from the mountains. For concrete. What, the fuck, Adam?
These thought crosses my mind on occasion. LIke the time I saw a dude crap his pants on the sidewalk. My bike tire was flat, forcing me to push the bike the four miles home. Along the way, I pass this dude laying on the concrete covered in his own shit. That never happened in Vermont.
After 2.5 months in the concrete jungle I had to escape or I’d freak. So I did. I managed to squeeze in a few pictures between 14.5 hours of driving, about 12 hours of sleeping, a few beers, 2 hours of hiking, great burritos with even better friends. All of whom, I may add have moved out of Stowe to the cities: Boston, Burlington, New York and ‘illadelphia. We converged on Taylor to forget the concrete and sit among the trees.
The Taylor Lodge sits along the Nebraska Notch, perched above beaver damns and the Nebraska Valley. This lodge has some history, burning down 3 times over the past 4 or 5 decades. I have an odd connection with this particular lodge. Frank Cain stayed here in 1963. I know because his name Frank Cain etched his name into the wall in 1963(see below). I lived in Frank Cain’s house this past winter. Frank Cain presided over Burlington, VT’s urban renewal projects from 1965-1971. He and I have slept in two of the same places: the Taylor Lodge and 1600 Weeks Hill Rd in Stowe, VT 05672. Enough about Frank Cain, here are the shots.
Black and White Philadelphia Skyline
The roads that flow in out and of cities remind me of veins and arteries. The incoming vehicles’ white headlights and outgoing vehicles’ red tail lights are like little platelets flowing in and out of the city. These platelets carry us – the lifeblood of the cities – to and fro each day. We, the people, keep our villages, towns and cities alive and glowing through the night.
I recently migrated to city pictured above, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. So far –after 1 month of residence – the only thing I’ve figured out is that our circulatory system is a metaphor for city traffic patterns. Stay tuned for the next grand revelation in my next post.
Posted in Black and White, Philadelphia
