Kendall Card 2.0

We moved to Kamas just over 4 years ago following 1 year of “building” our house. We’ve never regretted the move, despite what may appear to some as living light years away from civilization. The Kamas Valley is home and I hope that never changes.

With living in a rural town there are certainly some allowances and things that happen here that you just shrug (or shake your head), smile and say, “Only in Kamas.” This is about one of those things.

This past summer we inherited some chickens and so began the saga of raising…er, putting up with chickens. First came the chicken coup, which took me a couple of months to complete in all that spare time I’ve got. After all, I couldn’t build just anything simple, it had to be complex. Sheesh.

Our little chicks grew up and became two nice white chickens, a hen and a rooster named Scooter (hen) and Pecky (rooster). Finally Scooter started to lay eggs which we enjoyed gathering up and eating. We even lost a few to Annapurna throwing them down when to her surprise her brother “caught” her picking them up from the coup.

Then one day I came home from work to find that the typical molting of feathers was an abundance of feathers. As I approached the door my neighbor Doug called out as he headed in my direction. The details were fuzzy but it included hunting dogs on the loose, big ruckus, feathers, dead chicken, guy pulling up in his truck, dogs in back, dead chicken on top and then speeding off. Hmmm…ok, so we were down to 1.

Fortunately the hen had survived and the owner of the dogs came back later that night to break the news to me. He promised to replace it and I asked if he would give us a hen vs. a new rooster to which he agreed. Better that than a call to the animal control officer.

Over time the new chicken never materialized and Scooter became more lonely, stopped laying eggs and started to wander. One Sunday as we left for church Scooter was doing her thing but when we returned she was nowhere to be found. To this day she has never turned up. Chicken-napped? Perhaps. Gone looking for love? Likely.

So we were out of the chicken business…for about 4 hours until a knock at the door produced our replacement chicken, a black and white hen that had some tail feathers missing but otherwise looked quite pretty. The kids named it Rocky. Our friends who have 30 or so chickens gave us a rooster named Spot so that Rocky would have a friend and mate so we were back in the chicken business with a pair.

It soon became evident that chickens and Kendall don’t have the same schedules. Kendall works late, Chickens like to talk to other chickens very early and with a few flocks in the neighborhood (after all, this is Kamas) it’s a chicken chorus. Then one day, Rocky our hen, cock-a-doodle-dooed?!? In reality, our hen was a rooster. No wonder Rocky wasn’t laying any eggs. So what to do with 2 roosters? We were encouraged to put them down and cook them for dinner. I’m too busy was a good excuse.

Then one day another dog, this time a husky, grabbed Spot and then there was one. The kids shed tears, feathers were spread about in the snow, evidence of a struggle and the fate of Spot.

Another few weeks passed with winter storms and frigid nights and Rocky grew more lonely and vocal, to the point of annoyance. But then it happened, a chicken miracle – Spot showed up, gimping and looking as dirty and dejected as a street bum. This was the turning point, the beginning of the end. Rocky, was likely ecstatic, but in his excitement became extremely protective and started to chase off anyone that would come near and peck them. What was once a skiddish chicken had become quite aggressive and bold.

After a couple of weeks of care, it was evident that Spot wouldn’t get better so when animal control came by to get a stray cat from our neighbor, we had them take Spot away. Then Rocky flipped out. He would cock-a-doodle-doo all day and all night as if calling for his long lost buddy Spot. He started chasing cars, yes, chasing cars and worse yet, chasing passing pedestrians, often kids or moms out for walks. Staring people down became his past time and preying on the unsuspecting ankles of those walking by.

It was then that the news came of 9-1-1 calls about an aggressive chicken, our very own Rocky, chasing and harassing people, even bike riders. The local police officer, who happens to live across the street, said that he had more calls about our chicken than anything else after which he said “Only in Kamas”. The writing was on the wall – Rocky’s days were numbered.

So farewell Rocky, your time has come. Even as I type I’m preparing for the end, but not with a hatchet as you might suspect. With the upcoming Turkey season and my recent adoption of hunting with a bow, I figured I could practice my skill and help the neighborhood and town return to the peaceful pace of life by shooting Rocky with my bow.

You guessed it, Only in Kamas.

It’s a hard thing to be a backcountry skier in Kamas, that is if you are looking for a ski partner. I’ve been able to lure a few friends up from Salt Lake over the past years but most only come once. I understand the tractor beam power of the Cottonwood Canyons.

So I find myself venturing into the Uintas solo and that suits me just fine. The time breaking trail gives me time to ponder and think, and generally appreciate my state in life – blessed, relatively fit, healthy…happy.

After making it to the top of this run (below left), I saw that a party of 4 were enjoying the skin track I put in so I dropped in for 1200′ of beauty pow and headed cross canyon for more solo ventures.

image left – the boulevard
image right – looking back at my track from across the canyon

But as I was skinning up the cross canyon lap, I wished that Cynthia was here to share the beauty and the clean crisp air so I hatched a plan. If she had fed Asti and if McKinley would watch his brothers and sisters I could make it back in time to grab her skis/skins and head up the Mirror Lake Highway to go for a quick ski tour before dark. I think she was surprised, and she definitely was stoked as we packed up things to head out. As we drove up the highway she kept saying how weird this was but how exciting. I was reminded of how much I love this red-headed girl of mine.

The skiing was simple, the landscape enjoyable and the company sublime.

Love birds:

My friend Daren and I set out to finish the year off right – with a ski tour into Beartrap where we had gone immediately following Christmas day. Skies were blue, powder was plentiful and the only tracks we managed to find were the ones we put in.

It was one of those days where the snow was plastered to all the trees, leaving them blanketed in a beautiful white flocking. I got a little artsy with the photos.

(CLICK THE IMAGES TO SEE THEM LARGER)

Daren is a new comer to the world of backcountry skiing but I knew that with his bike racing background and all around stoke for fitness and nature’s beauty that it wouldn’t take much for him to be hooked. This sort of thing can be contagious and my hunch was right – he was grinning from ear to ear all day. Wouldn’t you be if this were you?

I read a thread on a hunting forum I frequent that talked about spiritual rituals that take place when you take an animal in the mountains. It was a good thread with many posting thoughts and rituals they perform after a successful hunt. This caused me to think about my successful hunt this past Saturday when I took my first deer ever. Here is what I wrote:

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I took my first buck ever yesterday while hunting with my 10 year old son. It’s nothing for the record books but a simple 2 point, however I couldn’t be more happy with the harvest, the accurate shot, sharing the experience with my son and how it all went down.

My Weatherby .270 with the Burris 3x-9x was a present from my father when at age 16 (21 years ago) I achieved my eagle scout award. I hunted with it for a few years in Oregon but never had the chance to harvest a deer or elk for that matter. After moving to Utah for school it saw a handful of hunts, again unsuccessful ones. Then I took a few years off from hunting big game and after getting into bow hunting this year for elk I opted to get a rifle tag so that I could take my oldest boy with me.

After I took the shot the snow started coming in pretty hard so he and I hurried through the quartering and getting him ready to pack out. As we worked I talked with him about the respect I had for this animal and how we needed to take as much of the meat off the mountain that we could despite a 3 mile hike that awaited us. As we shouldered packs to leave, I offered a prayer of thanks that seemed only natural for me to do at the time.

Now after reading this thread I’m reminded of the ritual my father once told me about that his father and his father before him had done – to paint your face with the blood of your first kill. My grandfather was a good friend of the Indians in Canada and this was passed down to my father. I recall as a young man looking forward to that first kill and painting my face with it’s blood.

I am a little remiss that I had forgotten about this yesterday. But after reading the posts here I’m very inclined to return the skull and bones to the mountain where they belong, rather than tossing them in the garbage. I grew up with a father that taught me respect for animals, particularly those whose lives were taken by my father’s hand. I didn’t do any sort of ritual yesterday but if nothing else I do hope that my son will not soon forget the respect I spoke of and showed to the deer that will provide a number of meals for us this winter.

Please if you have the means or the heart to attend this event, I and my good friend and business partner Mark Strickland would be appreciative. Mason is a cute little boy with a lot of spunk for a boy with a broken heart.

In case you want more info about Mason, his condition, his family and the fundraiser dinner, check out the blog that his mom Summer keeps about Mason

Like many others here in Utah with the increase in the number of Turkey tags this year, I too am new to the ranks of turkey hunting. Although I live in Kamas I put in for Southern Region so that I could reconnect with my uncle Robert who introduced me to bird hunting (dove) nearly 25 years ago. He’d never been turkey hunting either but had seen some while driving the hills near his home in Diamond Valley just north of St. George.

So I headed south for three days of hunting and what an experience it was. It was beyond fun to connect with my uncle whose dry sense of humor had both of us laughing all weekend. We hiked long and far, which both of us enjoy regardless of the hunt but it proved to be the right decision as we found birds. I’ll never forget hearing that first Tom gobble in a small canyon, making my ears ring and my heart skip a beat. Although we saw some birds the two stalks I put on them didn’t end like I had planned, the last one being a roosted bird that spotted me from a mile away and even though I got close enough to get 2 shots off while he flew away he was on to me from a ways out. Saw some great country, some good spots for deer that I’d like to revisit and more than anything I got a good education in turkey hunting.

With the fever to still get a bird, I teamed up with a friend who’s buddy had seen nearly 40 birds in a little canyon in the southern region (I promised not to tell) and who within 15 minutes of arrival had a bird. So we set out for said location and after a boondoggle of directions, private land between us and forest service land we decided that the only way to get there was the hard way so we hiked about 3 miles over ridges and across a couple of valleys to “the spot”.

When we got there, nothing but silence, no tracks and no turkey turds. We were a little dejected. There was a guzzler down valley about 1/4 mile so we went to check it out and found nothing again. Just as we were wondering if we’d hiked all that way for nothing – GOBBLE-GOBBLE! After high fives and dancing like a couple of drunken soldiers (quietly of course), we started up canyon and wouldn’t you know it in our effort to get around into a spot we passed the turkey and it passed us. (more…)

I had to get out of the office. I’m sure you’ve had those types of days when you and the office need some time apart. The blessing in my life is that I can tell my boss (me) that I need to get out. The curse is that I don’t tell myself I need time off enough.

Despite an hour of snow-blowing the driveway today and the late arrival at Butler Fork in Big Cottonwood Canyon, I skinned up the trail and as I went my mind seemed to slough off the cares of the office.

Just before topping out Derek and Guy caught me on their 4th lap. About 2 turns into the first of two laps for me, I knew I had made the right call.

On the second lap, I was energized and managed to out skin Derek to the top, a very rare feat. It was either the power euphoria or the Honey Stinger gel and PROBAR combo that I ate. Either way, powder was on the menu for my final run. It got all over my face.

I’d suggest you get out of the office as well. Tomorrow will most certainly be a good day for it.

–image Derek Weiss

I’ve had the privelge of meeting and even skiing with a few of the Utah Avalanche Forecasters over the years. Sure, they’re just like the rest of us, putting their skins on one ski at a time (no, they don’t have magical powers that can do both skis at one time). And while they may ski a bit more cautious than some of us if you’ve met and even skied with one you’ve surely seen that there is something unique about them.

Being a forecaster is a coveted role by many but the numbers dwindle quickly as the “many” soon realize the pay doesn’t really stack up, the hours are terrible (unless you think being up at 5am to send out updates is glamorous) and the annual hunt for a summer job can get old after a season or two.

I suspect it takes a certain quality of person, a certain character to make a successful career at being an avalanche forecaster. I’m grateful for the work they do and support them each year with a little bit of my hard earned money. I recommend you do the same.

My reason for posting this was not to guilt you into donating to a great organization, but to share a piece of today’s report that behind the low pay, the long hours and the summer job searches is a passion at the core of each forecaster.

Each day here in northern Utah the Utah Avalanche Center releases the daily Avalanche Advisory for all areas of the state.

Aside from the daily update of snow conditions, reliable weather and avalanche conditions, I really enjoy reading the little insights, quips, comments and once in a while a line or two that gives an insight into passion that the forecasters have for a life in the mountains.

Today’s report from Drew Hardesty had something in there that the quick reader/skimmer may have missed. Drew has passion for the mountains and I’m glad he shared it in today’s report:

There are those moments in life when you’re outside with good friends, or even alone, and you realize something has changed. The sun shines more brightly, the colors are more vibrant, the powder snow bottomless. It’s like a momentary glimpse of a rainbow after a just after a hard rain – and everyone looks at one another with smiles – and nothing needs to be said. We mark our lives by days like these. This was yesterday in the Wasatch.

Thanks Drew.

I took a sanity day last week and got out with old friends and new ones alike. Destination: Timpanogos.

It seems I have a love affair with this mountain. But how could you not? It’s massive, taking about the same area as Little Cottonwood Canyon if you measured the length of the massif.

Skiing from the summit, right from the top, has been a dream of mine for a while now. It’s good to accomplish a dream.

Thanks to my friend Derek for the video.

Up and Over from piton productions on Vimeo.

I hate to say it, and I know that there are still plenty of good ski days left, but the sunshine and warmer weather have me thinking cycling season will be here soon.

I’m planning on LOTOJA again this year, possibly the Tour de Park City and if I’m lucky, perhaps I’ll ride the 1000 Warriors ride. I’ve been spinning lately but am anxious to get on the Mirror Lake Highway and Wolf Creek Pass soon.

Doesn’t this look fun!?