Caffeine, Albuterol, Alcohol
Mount Machebeuf Trip Report
I. Caffeine
Methylxanthine class central nervous system stimulant.
50-200mg (1-2 cups of coffee), daily or as needed.
We met at a park-and-ride outside of Boulder just before sunrise. Julia and Eliza threw their skis in the trunk in good time and we struck south just as the first rays of sunrise illuminated the granite ridges of the flatirons like a watercolor painting.
Jake waited for us at another parking lot in Golden. After collecting him, we finally turned west, driving into the mountains toward our objective for the day: Mount Machebeuf via Watrous Gulch.
Jake moved to D.C. last year so this spring ski mission was to act as a celebration of his presence back in Colorado, even if just for a long weekend. Clearly he was a bit rusty: he forgot his ski poles. Full of false optimism, we stopped in Idaho Springs aiming for a rental shop open at 6:15am on a Sunday. Unsurprisingly, we had no luck on the ski poles, but we did find cheap gas station coffee.
The past month or so I’ve taken a break from caffeine as an experiment. I wanted to see if, after withstanding the initial symptoms of withdrawal, I felt more generally alert and energetic without caffeine. With much ambivalence, I report that I think I do feel better. That’s good to know, of course, but it’s sad because I love the ritual and communion of drinking coffee with friends, the aroma filling the car on an early-morning adventure, and the euphoria you feel when you have one or two cups more than you needed.
Properly fueled, we parked at the Herman Gulch trailhead. The trail had melted out below 11,000 feet, so we threw our skis and boots on our packs for the beginning of our journey. Eliza only brought her slippers as spare shoes. In solidarity, Jake left his sandals on rather than switching to his trail runners.
At the start of the trail, a handful of walking sticks leaned against a fence. Jake thumbed through his options and settled on two sticks as makeshift poles. What’s the difference, really?
II. Albuterol
Inhaled beta-2-agonist, bronchodilator.
108 mcg/inhalation, twice every 4-6 hours as needed.
A dusting of snow from last night’s storms coated the trail. Climbing through the forest’s gradual grade, snow accumulation increased commensurate with our elevation until, after a mile and a quarter, there was enough snow to justify throwing on the skis and skins.
Eliza and Jake dusted snow off their socks and we all sighed with relief at the new lightness of our packs. We began skinning, enjoying the sunshine but with a cautious eye to the slopes of the bowls above us.
High winds had blown in with the storm from the night before. With our thoughts on wind slabs, we had already dialed back the risk on our terrain choices for the day. While it was still comfortable below treeline in the gulch, we could see violent dervishes of snow and wind on the open bowl and the ridgeline above.
Nearing the edge of the treeline near 12,000 feet, we stopped to navigate. Although we all felt strong, Jake and I had already commented on the elevation.
I’ve got asthma, but I usually do fine with the thin air. Even still, on occasion I’ll snag a preventative puff of the inhaler before a big day or when I know I’m going high.
When the altitude gets you, it feels like there’s a fog over everything you’re doing. It dulls. It makes you feel unmotivated. Proclivities to proactivity fade. These are not good things in the backcountry. So, though sometimes it feels like cheating, I took a puff of my inhaler. After all, I reasoned, if everyone else’s lungs feel like this all of the time…
We picked a line up the east bowl of Machebeuf. The wind began hitting us in earnest then. Grainy clouds of snow obscured our vision. Clouds raced overhead. Still we trudged on, away from the protection of the trees into the alpine. We arrived on the ridge, confirmed our plan to continue to the summit, and, leaning against the gale, marched upwards.
The windstorm peaked at the summit. Sustained 40 mile-per-hour winds threw snow into our eyes. The steep couloirs off Torrey’s Peak, which we as a group had skied last year, faced us from across the valley. As I peered over the north face, a stout gust of wind actually took my breathe away. The air was cold: winter in late May. Like maniacs, we smiled and gave fist-bumps all around.
Dipping below the summit, seeking some sort of shelter from the wind, we transitioned to downhill mode as fast as our numb hands could manage it. The first hundred vertical feet of skiing was bulletproof ice. Traversing skiers left from the summit toward the bowl, though, we found where all of the snow had been blowing. For 800 vertical feet, our skis carved smooth turns into the few inches of soft snow. Not quite powder turns, but the snow was soft. It was Memorial Day weekend. Not too bad.
After skiing out the bowl we hung high and right into Watrous Gulch to maintain elevation for almost half a mile before dropping into the trees for another 500 feet of relatively fun tree skiing. The snow had definitely seen more warming down low, and we quickly began finding the bottom of the snowpack, but party skiing through low-angle terrain with the team is always a highlight.
Eventually, the slope flattened and the snow thinned to where we again transferred our skis onto our bags. This time, Jake and Eliza elected to keep their ski boots on rather than throwing on their sandals and slippers. The final mile and a quarter passed with ease. We reentered the forest, welcomed by the soft scent of pine. Less pleasantly, the dull roar of I-70 greeted us as we neared the trailhead.
III. Alcohol
Ethanol; toxic, psychoactive, and dependence-producing depressant.
No safe or recommended dosage of alcohol.
Mostly sunny skies and no wind waited for us in the parking lot. Throwing our bags down, everyone reconfigured their accoutrements to optimize for comfort rather than utility while I passed out celebratory beers.
We debriefed on the day, reviewing our decision-making, further developing some nascent jokes, and expressing our gratitude that we made the day happen. Last May, the four of us skied the Emperor Couloir off Torrey’s Peak across the valley with great success. Two years in a row now makes it a tradition.
As per tradition (i.e., because we did it last year), we drove to Two Bears Tap & Grill, a humble roadside eatery located just off the exit to Clear Creek Canyon. Gracing our late lunch were the smooth operators of 2nd Time Around, one of Colorado’s best classic rock cover bands featuring “killer guitars, great vocals & harmonies, songs we know & love, high quality production, fun atmosphere, and professional performance.” These guys rocked. They were so tight it sounded like a studio recording.
Over another beer and burgers, we chatted about protein intake, relationships, job interviews, the letter of the law versus the spirit of the law, our families, vegetarianism, and plans for next year’s May ski adventure. I’ve been down on booze recently, but moments like these are where alcohol’s benefits outweigh its drawbacks. A modest amount of beer enhanced our fellowship: a chemical catalyst for conversation and deepening our relationships. Sharing a meal and some beverages feels like you’re engaging in a kind of communion with the ages, especially after an day that makes you feel like you earned it.
Finally, we departed for home. We dropped Jake in Golden, all exchanging embraces and expressions of gratitude. Less than an hour later had Julia and Eliza at their cars and me pulling into my driveway. A long day, and a good day, that already has me thinking about the next with excitement. When we reassemble the crew, I’ll be sure to pack the proper pharmacological provisions, as always.
Lovely storytelling!
Tell me more about the caffeine abstention. It’s my favorite part of the day and the few times I’ve given it up I just feel a bit more blah.