Liquid Militia Productions

A room with a view

“When I first arrived at La Grave and stared at the majestic glaciated peak of La Meije (13,065 feet), I imagined endless ski runs that would last a lifetime.” Doug Coombs.

I woke up in La Grave and looked out the window, and this is what I saw. We drove in the night before in the dark and it was pouring rain. I knew we were going somewhere spectacular, but I had no idea it would be this. When I opened the curtain in the morning, I could hardly believe my exhausted eyes. A tiny town nestled within spectacular and rugged mountains in the French Alps, La Grave is really a sight worth seeing. Most recently known as the place where Doug Coombs perished while trying to save his friend, Chad VanderHam, La Meije has excited many-a-mountain-man…and woman over the years. Although we didn’t ski on this trip, it was clear that this place takes extreme ski mountaineering to another level. It seems to be what these mountains were made for. Instead we went on incredible hikes up though a few mountain villages, past cows with bells on, past roaring mountain creeks, and an explosion of wildflowers. Without a doubt, the best wildflower show I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s hard to describe how it feels to be in the shadow of mountains like these, listening to the sound of so many cowbells that you think you are hearing wind chimes.

The French Alps were gushing with water…we must have hit peak runoff while we were there because waterfalls and creeks were running everywhere. Most of the creeks we saw on our hikes we had deemed unrunnable, but there are also tons of rivers to be run there. Some of them flow through fortified cities that make you feel like you are on the set of a medieval movie. Best of all, fresh mountain spring water was flowing right out of the rock, and we just walked up and filled our water bottles with the most delicious cold water you could imagine. Mmmmm.

My husband Brian (a.k.a. Frenchy) is from France, and he was so stoked to get back into the local topography and cuisine. And I was feeling pretty lucky to have my interpreter/driver/sherpa with me on the trip. The French LOVE their mountain driving, and he is no exception. I had no business being anywhere but the passenger seat, really. Cheese and wine and cheese and bread and dried sausage and cheese and bread…yes, this was our main sustenance. Delicious, but does nothing for a girl’s figure. Luckily we hiked enough to work off most of my spare-cheese-tire before coming home.

So there have been multiple requests for more T & A (not that there is any now, but for some reason more has been requested…), and it’s unlikely that you’ll get it, but this is about as close as we come. Except La in her underpants. Stay tuned. For now, you get a sports bra in a subalpine wildflower meadow.

I do miss it out there, but it’s always nice to be home. I’m enjoying every minute of it, because it won’t last long. OK, actually, I’m not enjoying every minute…I’m stressing out a little bit. For those of you who read my post a few weeks ago about getting the 1^st Alternate Heli-tech position on the Ice, well, no longer an alternate. I found out about a week ago that I’m going. YES!! I’m going!! Someone took another job, and my life is about to change a whole lot and really fast. I’m leaving in about 9 weeks for a 5-month stint in Antarctica, and I have a ton to do, including the completion of my helicopter rating. I hope. I’m cutting it seriously close, but I’m going to do my absolute best. Flying a few times a week, and studying hard. And in the meantime, making lots of lists and getting my life all sorted out Stateside before I head down South. While you all are still basking in the Colorado Indian summer, I will be looking a lot like this:

Unless the Army Corps of Engineers gives us a 90 day extension, this is our last chance to speak out against the proposed Glade Res.

www.savethepoudre.org

I volunteered to be shuttle bunny as my girls went on a mission into the unknown territory of the lower Big Thompson Canyon. I watched as they put in below the dam, with the wind howling so hard the shrubs were nearly laying on their sides. The bitter wind was biting my bare toes, and as my eyes followed them down the bank toward the splashing cold water, I realized I didn’t feel so sorry for myself anymore. The job of shuttle babe was starting to sound like the better option.

I drove downstream a bit and scouted the river. I saw two rather large holes and walked upstream to let them know what was there. “It looks like the right line around the first hole is your best option,” I yelled over the wind and the water. “And the second hole looks pretty manky. Don’t take my word for it, but I’d say you should boof over the ledge on river right. You don’t want to be in that hole! Might want to scout that one yourselves.” Well, they did take my word for it…and the words I neglected to say were ‘watch out for the FU rock above the ledge.’ I hadn’t seen it until Jen hit it and sneaked her way back on the line and around the hole in her playboat. I was filming, or so I thought. Then Sarah paddled up, hit the FU rock and lost all speed in her creeker. Uh-oh…she dropped right into Blue House hole, a hole that has apparently gotten acquainted with several other friends of ours. I “filmed” Sarah’s long and heroic hole ride, all the way up until she swam away from it while the Nomad continued to bounce around in there for a while. La was waiting upstream for the “All OK” signal, and nervously noticed that the camera had been in one spot for some time now. After a bit of charades, she grabbed her boat and headed down to help out. Our sign language needs some work, and I vowed we’d go over hand signals before our next adventure.

Long story short, the Jenneral paddled her Star after the fast-floating Nomad for more than a mile. Sarah was OK and had her paddle, and La was bringing up the rear. I drove down and stopped everywhere I could, utterly helpless in retrieving the boat. We all had visions of the blue bomber bouncing around at the bottom of the dam, and I was starting to wonder what number we should call so the authorities would know we were all OK. Jen finally got sick of chasing a boat that she couldn’t corral, pulled over, pulled her skirt, and sprinted down the bank until she caught up with the boat and pulled a flying squirrel, landing on it and swimming it back to shore. Ridiculous. And totally bad ass. When we got back to the car, I went to watch the footage, and uh, it wasn’t there. Don’t ask. So disappointing. I guess no one really wants to watch their own beatdown, but once you’re on the other side of the “incident”, it can be viewed as an educational tool. And well, yeah…sort of funny.

They repeated the mission the day after, with the intention of slaying it. More chunder action, but they made it a bit further. It’s on the list of summer projects now, and I hope the water lasts. The doc says I’m virtually healed from the surgery, although I accidentally rehabbed myself into tendinitis. I can paddle a bit, within easy limits until the inflammation goes down. It’s painful to watch the Puffs figure this out while I’m on shore, but I’m so psyched they are getting after it. I’ll take advantage of them figuring it out and just showing me the way while I’m well. Hoping for those late season releases again this year.

Sarah’s mostly new helmet did a hell of a job protecting her head…but may already be on the road to retirement. Ouch. Go team Poudre Puff!

In the beginning of this adventure (The Eddy Flower Vertical Challenge), the poudre puff team set ourselves a mission…. “To have fun, raise some money for First Descents so kids with cancer could learn how to kayak, and rack up as many vertical feet of river as we could in a month”. We succeeded… Lots of great people helped us, shuttled us, fed us, donated, and gave us infinite support. Thank you to all. Lessons were learned….. Here are some pics and some of the notes I took on what I learned from this adventure.

Lessons Learned

1. The Big Thompson is one of those beat downs that you just keep going back for more on. It’s sick, but I can’t seem to help wanting to go back and get served again and again. I may need help.

2. Pineview, pineview, pineview…… I’m glad you’re in my back yard. (See pics of the race attached)

3. The river communities in Colorado are full of wonderful, giving, sharing, and fun loving people.

4. Women’s teams compete against each other just like Men’s teams we just look better in our skirts.

5. Some people are more hardcore than others in their river running selections, but do they multi lap??? I call it training.

6. It takes little more than an idea, some focus, team work, communication, and simplicity to put together fun parties and trips on the fly for little cost.

7. If you boat with great friends even flat water is fun.

8. Variety (different rivers) is the spice of life. More… More…. give me more….

9. Tall people in duckies are cheating when it comes to racing.

10. Drinking from your booties may seem ugly, but if you don’t appease the river gods, the next beat down will be worse. So just suck it up, and buy a new pair of booties, and make up for all those swims. I believe I owe 5 now.

More pics and video to come so stay tuned.

I’ve been waiting for a phone call for the last 3 years, and this week I finally got it. There’s an incredible place at the southernmost end of the Earth where you’ll find the driest and coldest desert, the most beautiful active volcano, icebergs the size of high-rise buildings, and those funny tuxedoed birds that don’t fly. It’s barren, it’s frigid, it’s isolated and a little bit crazy…and I’ve applied for a job there on the helicopter crew. I went to Antarctica on a science team during the 04/05 winter season and I have been trying to get back there ever since. While there, I discovered a love for aviation that turned into something short of an obsession. Some people have their early-mid-life crisis and want a Harley, some people decide to fly helicopters. It’s been a long, slow road to earn the title ‘pilot’, and I still have quite a bit of work to do. And the kind of experience I could gain from the cockpit of a Bell 212 or a Eurocopter AStar as a helitech, buzzing over mountains, glaciers, and sea ice wouldn’t hurt.

So I’ve washed helicopters, I’ve loaded bikers into the Long Ranger at Sturgis, I’ve crewed on commercial shoots and SAR missions, Ive learned hover hook-ups along side the firemen, and I’ve taken flying lessons — all in order to get the experience I need to be part of the helicopter team on The Ice. And every year I’ve applied for the job, only to get a polite reply saying there were no spots open but thanks for checking in, again. This year I got an interview, and I’ve been not-so-patiently waiting to hear back, and this week I finally got my answer. It’s a ‘definite maybe’, a.k.a. ‘First Alternate’. This means I put my life on hold (and my honey’s life) for the next several months and wait to see if someone on the team doesn’t work out or takes another job, gets injured, etc. If I get the call, I’m at McMurdo within 2 weeks. Apparently my persistence paid off, because although there was only one spot available for this highly competitive job (and I didn’t get it), the helicopter manager wanted to give me a shot. And this is my shot…a maybe 50% chance that I’ll go. Of course I wish no ill will on any of the standing team members, but you never know how the world turns. Maybe something will work out that will be better for them…and of course, super fantastic for me. Now we wait and see.

Video for our girl down south. Fun, wet, cold, friends, and a complete lack of seriousness.

Hey, Hol! from Liquid Militia Productions on Vimeo.

I’m on a sort of working holiday in New Zealand and while my life here is not that exciting, I thought I’d share some photos from down under. I’m working on a web project for my dad, who lives here, and my daily scenery is pretty much filled with the view from the office. The office view is absolutely gorgeous, really, but it’s still the view from the office. Once we make some progress, we’ll get out and have a little fun. But considering how much river-love is waiting for me when I get home, I’d like to have this all buttoned up when I return. So while I’m here, there will be some whip-cracking.

The flight out of Colorado was tremendous, incredible, and stunning. This is just northeast of Aspen, along the divide. You can sort of see I-70 in the top right quad of the photo for reference. Ah’ll tell you whut! There is some snow in them there hills!!! So much snow, and it went on and on. And I’m sure Sara’s still skiing it twice a week. Isn’t it the end of May? Whoop-whoop! You know what that means…gushing rivers. I hope they hold out till I get home. We also flew over the Grand Canyon, reminding me of the trip I just missed out on, due to a recovering shoulder. Beautiful. I’m so glad the Frenchman (my hubby) got to experience it, even if I wasn’t along for this one.

The trip down south really is hell, if you haven’t experienced it. Don’t come for anything less than two weeks, and still, that’s pushing it. The door to door travel time was 27 hours. If you have reasonable layovers, it can be less, but still it’s challenging. So when I saw the sunrise reflecting on the fuselage as we crossed the Cook Strait, it was such a relief. We were close, and soon I’d see the port town of Nelson. There was no way I was closing my eyes…who could miss that sight!? Obviously, I looked like a tour-on snapping photos out the airplane window. But whatever, as soon as I opened my mouth, it would be certain anyway. Yes, I’m an American. No, I didn’t vote for George Bush.

It’s Autumn here…they are heading into winter and it’s starting to get cold. Cold is relative. It doesn’t feel much different than the emerging spring I just left in Colorado, although I hear there have been some days in the 80’s back home now. Oh yeah, and tornados. How bizarre is that?? I send my regards to the Windsorites who just lived through the storm. Let’s hope it was a one-hit-wonder, eh? This shot is from dad’s garden. If you look really hard, you can tell that those tiny white specs on the hillside are sheep. baaaahhhh. Sheep! Everywhere! Love it.

So while I patiently wait out the last few weeks of my recovery and prepare myself for big water back home, I tickity-tack all day long on the keyboard…working through the pain of not being on the water. Honestly, this is the best place on Earth for me to be right now. Munching on mandarins picked right off the tree, hiking the trails in the neighborhood, and wondering what sort of beat-down my girls are taking on the Poudre (um, photos, ladies, photos. need some poudre photo action asap) without me. I catch up with Jen at night and hear the stories, psyched about what they are doing, jealous that I’m not there, and so relieved that I’m listening from half way around the world. It truly would be a pathetically sad and lonely experience for me if I were in Fort Collins right now. I’d be abandoned by my husband and all my friends daily while they went out to play. Instead, I spend long hours in the office with dad, do my rehab faithfully in anticipation of my return to whitewater, and gaze at the lime tree as happy hour approaches…wondering which one wants to garnish my cocktail today.