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As skiers we often like to talk about how much we’re willing to sacrifice for a pow day, how we’ll drop all responsibilities for deep turns. Our dereliction of duty is often viewed as a badge of honor; we revere those who somehow manage to create a lifestyle that revolves around skiing at th…

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I’ve spent the last two Saturdays playing with my beacon, trying to find buried backpacks. It’s been a spicy start to the year, with a few people already caught and carried in avalanches and plenty more triggering slides on slopes all around the region. There’s a certain disconnect for me as…

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Backcountry skiers are obsessed with saving weight. We cut off the handles of our sporks, shave our legs, and drill holes in our gear in hope of saving a few grams and being just a little faster up the skin track. But most of the “weight saving” strategies skiers use actually save you less w…

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According to the Caribou-Targhee National Forest, Cariboo Jack was a crusty teller of tall tales who wandered down from British Columbia to Wyoming sometime in the late 1860s. He prospected through the state until a foolhardy encounter with a grizzly and some poor medical decisions truncated…

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When I started mountain biking I had no idea how trails were made, and honestly, I didn’t really care. I just sort of assumed that trails were a natural part of the mountains and forests, like streams or ridgelines. The fun stuff, like jumps, had obviously been built by someone, and I tore u…

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The weird little horseshoe-shaped spring slips from my fingers and flies into the side of the long-empty beer can. It pings off and the dog leaps for it excitedly as I try to lever my stiffened limbs to get to it before she does.