10 days, 10 states: Ruby Mountains, Nevada

by Kyle Ellison on

-“Shine on, Ruby mountain, from the valley to the sea. Shine on, Ruby mountain, shine your sweet love down on me” -Kenny Rogers, Shine On, Ruby Mountain-

The first time I ever heard of Elko, Nevada was when I was eight years old. As a big-haired tot growing up on the island of Maui, a place where the weather page is nearly always stuck on “warm and tropical”, I was obsessed with the multicolored national weather page of lands far, far away.

During certain months of the year, I would notice on the national temperature map there was always this dark blue, maybe even violet circle hovering in the middle of Nevada–a place that looked eerily colder than the rest. Smack in the center of that cold, violet bubble was always a town I had not visited until today: Elko, Nevada.

As school got harder and life got faster, my fascination with the great blue blob of Elko, Nevada slowly faded away. That was until three months ago when I found myself at a California wedding in the company of a couple of ranchers from, where else, but Elko, Nevada.

“Elko, huh. Isn’t that the really cold place in Nevada?” I confidently slurred, the pour-your-own sangria bar having a noticeable effect on my social willingness to engage.

“Nah, last year it was only -18 at the coldest. I love Elko, though. I wouldn’t live anywhere else”, offered the rancher in his tightest pair of Wranglers.

“Wouldn’t ever leave Elko, eh? And why’s that?”

“Well we’ve got the Ruby Mountains“.

As a map obsessed child who could rattle off every world capital by the age of 3 sort of guy, I was taken aback at the prospect of there being an American mountain range with which I was unfamiliar.

The Ruby Mountains.

As the wedding ended and the weeks wore on, I did what any self-respecting travel blogger would do and I Google searched them. Even after some research, I simply couldn’t shake the allure of these mystery mountains in the middle of the cold dark blob.

%Gallery-138739%Striking out on the road for 10 days, 10 states, 10 great American sights, I finally decided I would go and pay a visit to these Elko mountains of lore and drive from Lake Tahoe, California into the high desert hills of northeastern Nevada.

80 miles long by 12 miles wide, the Rubies I found out are known as “The Swiss Alps of Nevada”. As I stand in the glacial confines of Lamoille Canyon, a 12 mile scenic byway that cuts a deep wedge into the mountain range, it isn’t hard to see why.

The white, snowy peak of 11,327 ft. Ruby Dome stands in stark contrast to the yellows of the fall leaves dancing amongst the canyon. Numerous hiking trails depart from the canyon road and connect back in the mountains with larger treks such as the 43-mile Ruby Crest Trail. Though the mountains are reputed to be rife with wildlife ranging from mountain goat to bighorn ram, the only creatures I encounter on my foray up the canyon are a herd of deer bounding through the autumn chill.

As an early season snowfall has brought plenty of the powder to the upper peaks, I am relegated to wandering the empty streams of the lower elevations of the canyon. Though comparable in beauty to the forested trails of my last stop on the trip, Lake Tahoe, I find that I have this trail refreshingly all to myself.

With the onset of winter I imagine that these mountains are going to be fairly empty and sleepy while the cold blue temperature blob parks itself over Elko for the winter.

Empty, undoubtedly, but as I would come to find out, these mountains are anything but sleepy, even in the depths of winter. Although there are no chairlifts and exactly zero ski resorts, who would have guessed that the Ruby Mountains are one of the premier places in the western US for the extreme sport of heli-skiing.

That’s right. Heli-skiing. In the Great Basin of Nevada. With an entire range of peaks that top out over 11,000 feet, that makes the Rubies higher than any groomed run found in all of Lake Tahoe.

As is typical of finding myself in a new place, I am struck with the overwhelming urge to suddenly do everything these mountains have to offer; I am drunk on the adrenaline fueled urge to mountain bike, to rappel, and to hunt, which is strange because I don’t actually hunt.

As is the case with a 10-day road trip across the country, however, my mobility does not afford me the time to linger. For this reason if I bump into you on the street and you ask me where I’m headed next, I’d say that I’d love to go back to Elko, Nevada?

Why?

Because it has the Ruby Mountains.

Follow Kyle on the rest of his journey as he explores “10 days, 10 states, 10 great American sights”.

10 days, 10 states: Lake Tahoe, California

by Kyle Ellison on

“…As it lay there with the shadows of the mountains brilliantly photographed upon its surface I thought it must surely be the fairest picture the whole Earth affords…”
-Mark Twain, upon first viewing Lake Tahoe. Excerpted from his book, “Roughing It”

As anyone who has ever spent time in Lake Tahoe can attest to, Mark Twain had Tahoe pegged from the moment he first laid eyes upon it. Once Twain was done waxing philosophical about the clarity of its waters and pristine nature of its shores, however, he would go on to nearly burn the entire place down when his campfire raged out of control and gave rise to a massive forest fire.

Luckily for Mr. Twain, Tahoe managed to survive the blaze, and it continues to be the ultimate playground for outdoor enthusiasts all across the West. If you’ve never paid a visit to this lake the Washoe Indians dubbed “Da-ow-a-ga”, (Big Water) it’s hard to properly describe the sheer magnitude of how big the largest alpine lake in North America really is.

Unlike the Great Lakes, you can, in fact, still see across to the other side. This is aided however by the lake being rung by the 9,000 ft. peaks of the Sierra Nevada that remain at least partially snowcapped for the entire year.

21 miles long by 12 miles wide (193 sq. miles), Lake Tahoe is officially larger than three of the eight main Hawaiian Islands (Kahoolawe, Ni’ihau, and Lana’i). Aside from its area, at 1,645 ft. deep, Lake Tahoe is also the second deepest lake in North America behind Oregon’s Crater Lake.

That’s great. It’s big, and it’s deep. But what exactly does that mean? Give me some perspective. Well to start with, if you were to somehow pull the plug on Lake Tahoe and allow its waters to drain across the valley floor, the volume would be enough to cover the entire state of California to a depth of 15 inches. Think about that. Every Californian, all 37 million of them from San Diego to Humboldt would have their basement sloshing under a foot of water.

%Gallery-138378%So what actually goes on in water that deep? Are there any fish down there? Is there anything down there? Although the lake does house some good sized mackinaw (lake trout) that hang out around 200-250 ft. down, it’s rumored that there is potentially something else that’s floating around at the deepest depths of the lake:

Dead Native American Indians and Chinese railroad workers.

That’s right. It could all be urban legend, but it’s reputed that throughout history there were times when warriors or workers who met an untimely end were simply cast into the frigid lake waters. As the water temperature at the deepest parts of the lake remains a constant 39 degrees Fahrenheit, the waters are sufficiently cold enough to keep human bodies from quickly decomposing.

Creepy depths of the lake aside, Lake Tahoe remains one of the premier spots in the Western US for outdoor recreation on land as well as on the water. During the winter months, Tahoe boasts no fewer than 12 ski resorts that are lauded as some of the best in all of North America, with Squaw Valley playing host to the Winter Olympics in 1960.

During the summer months, Tahoe is rife with outdoor summer adventures that range from standup paddling to mountain biking. The Flume Trail on the east shore of the lake is regarded as being one of the most scenic rides in the entire country, and as the fall foliage currently engulfs the lake basin I find it to be the perfect time of year for getting out and riding the Flume.

From the rampant development that lines the shoreline, however, it’s easy to deduce that the beauty of Tahoe is no longer really a secret. Although the lakeshore may be rung by mega-mansions (Incline Village), lakefront restaurants (the entire West Shore), and glitzy casinos (South Lake Tahoe), there is still one stretch of the lake that is uninterrupted in its rugged and natural beauty.

When George Whittell’s real estate magnate parents passed away and left him with a sizeable inheritance in the late 1920’s, the San Francisco eccentric took a lump sum of cash and purchased the entire east shore of Lake Tahoe. Upon the granite strewn shoreline he constructed his infamous retreat, the Thunderbird Lodge, an architectural wonderland of ornate stonework, hidden tunnels, and cascading man-made waterfalls.

As real estate interests along the lake grew, however, so did interest in acquiring the lands held by Mr. Whittell. In one of the state of Nevada’s landmark cases of eminent domain, the state seized the land from Mr. Whittell that now comprises Sand Harbor State Park. Finally reducing his estate to the 6 acres surrounding the Thunderbird Lodge, the east shore of the lake ended up in the hands of the state of Nevada and has been exquisitely preserved as a state park system that offers some of the best beaches along the entire lake.

It’s just off of these beaches I find myself gliding along on a dull red kayak, completely encircled by granite boulders, turquoise waters, and the yellows and oranges of the fall colors that dance their way down from the treetops. If I didn’t have the rest of the country to go and see, I would be more than content to simply find a patch of sand, read a little Twain, and stare out over one of the great natural wonders of the West.

Follow Kyle on the rest of his journey as he explores “10 days, 10 states, 10 great American sights”.

Umpqua National Forest: Oregon’s waterfall alley

by Kyle Ellison on

“People are drawn to waterfalls as places of wonder, relaxation, and inspiration” -Umpqua National Forest brochure, “Thundering Waters”

I remember an old sage I once camped with in Baja, Mexico referring to campfires as being “nature’s televisions”. As we all sat circled around the dancing flames mirthfully sharing a bottle of tequila and eating freshly caught fish, I decided that a well-built campfire is, in its singular ability to capture the rapt attention of a silent crowd, nature’s equivalent to a 48-inch plasma.

For the last 8 years of my traveling life I have held this as the truth.

That was until yesterday. As I start a 10 day road trip across the United States to explore “10 days, 10 states, 10 great American sights” my faith in what comprises nature’s television has suddenly been knocked to the curb.

I say this because here in Oregon, deep inside the Umpqua National Forest, I have found a challenger to the title of nature’s television in the complex combination of rivers and gravity we creatively call the waterfall.

You read it here first: Waterfalls are nature’s television, and here in Umpqua National Forest, I find myself literally swimming in them.

Sandwiched between Crater Lake National Park in the south and the vineyards of Willamette Valley in the North, Umpqua National Forest is a little-visited ribbon of America that features every type of waterfall you could ever imagine, all within easy strolling distance of the 172 mile Rogue-Umpqua Scenic Byway. In Umpqua, you cannot drive or hike more than a few miles without running into a well maintained trailhead for a thundering display of water and rock. Along the drive, no fewer than 15 named waterfalls spring from both sides of the road.

%Gallery-138321%Only 60 years ago, this remote and rugged part of Central Oregon still didn’t even have any paved roads, making it a relatively new attraction for those exploring the soggy and serene Pacific Northwest. For those with time to linger, the 79-mile North Umpqua Trail provides a wooded footpath that hugs the banks of the meandering North Umpqua River. Though the falls trickle along even through the autumn and winter, it’s the springtime snow melt that truly makes the valley thunder.

The enchanting thing about waterfalls is the fact that, like snowflakes, no two waterfalls are alike. Horsetail, cascade, segmented, fans, and tiers are all various waterfall structures prominently on display in Umpqua. In a dense green canyon dripping in moss, a two-tiered fall plunges 120 ft. into a pool that is so placid the local Umpqua Indians bestowed upon it the name of Toketee, indigenous for “pretty” or “graceful”. Thousands of years later, Toketee Falls is the most famous waterfall in the region and greatly lives up to its name.

Just up the road, 50 ft. Susan Creek Falls blasts through a dark and narrow canyon which sits just below a collection of native Indian mounds where adolescent boys would camp during their quest towards manhood. Further up towards the top of the valley, a 1.5 mile stroll on the North Umpqua Trail brings you to Lemolo Falls, a 102 ft. horsetail waterfall that explodes over the towering precipice above. To the Umpqua people, Lemolo means “wild and untamed”, and as the mists erupt off of the slippery rocks below, the native moniker couldn’t be more apt.

Finally, for those who like their waterfalls narrow and high, 272 ft. tall Watson Falls is the highest waterfall in southwest Oregon and is located a mere .3 miles walk from the road. Unlike the more popular and heavily visited Columbia River Gorge-Oregon’s most famous waterfall alley and home to Multnomah Falls, a tour bus and souvenir stand outpost of fun-it’s still possible to sit at the base of Watson Falls and listen to nothing but the sounds of the forest.

Although it’s possible to blow through Umpqua National Forest in little more than an afternoon, a well-maintained system of campgrounds is scattered throughout the forest and provides a relaxing getaway far away from the crowds.

So next time you’re in the soggy Northwest, consider pitching a tent far up the Umpqua river valley and taking to the woods for a bit. Throw on an early morning flannel, heat up a pot of coffee on the camp stove, and disappear for a while in one of the dwindling places in the West where it’s still possible to have waterfalls all to yourself.

Follow Kyle on the rest of his series as he explores “10 days, 10 states, 10 great American sights”

Do you travel more than a pro surfer?

by Kyle Ellison on

In all of professional sports, I doubt there are many athletes who travel more for their job than professional surfers. In fact, I doubt there are many people involved in any profession who travel more than professional surfers do on an annual basis.

Unless you are, oh, I don’t know, an exploratory oil engineer, a FedEx airline pilot, or some sort of covert operative, there’s a real good chance that the world’s top wave chargers are circling the globe far more rapidly than you are.

So just what does the schedule of a professional surfer look like?

To begin with, the 36 surfers on the ASP World Tour compete in 11 different events that take them across Australia, Brazil, South Africa, France, Portugal, Tahiti, California, and Hawaii over the course of the year. During the 4-6 weeks between events, many of these surfers are jetting across the globe chasing swells and doing promo shoots in countries that include the expected (Indonesia, Fiji, Costa Rica), the remote (Namibia, Madagascar, Iceland), and the downright dangerous (I’ve seen articles on surf in Libya, and it actually looks really good).

Considering the constant demands of chasing swells that can pop up in any corner of the world, many pro surfers spend little more than a month or two at “home” in any given year.
To dig deeper into the traveling life of a professional surfer I recently caught up with a team that’s been traveling with pro surfer Ian Walsh of Maui, Hawaii.One of the world’s best big wave surfers, Walsh largely forgoes contests in favor of searching out some of the largest, most remote waves on the planet. When he’s not stroking into bulbous, death-defying pits that would assuredly kill the rest of us, Walsh is making various promotional appearances around the globe for one of his major sponsors, Red Bull.

On a recent trip that just came to a close, Walsh and his team flew from Hawaii to Africa for a month of chasing swells from the sharky waters of Cape Town to the remote sand spits of Namibia. After Africa, the Walsh team was needed back in New York City for the premier of a Red Bull snowboarding film, The Art of Flight, during which time he jetted out to Rhode Island to hunt down some waves from a mid-autumn hurricane swell.

From New York the team hopped over the pond for a week of wave-hunting on the west coast of Ireland, after which time it was off to Salzburg, Austria via Prague to drop in at the Red Bull headquarters for a few days. Throw in a quick trip to Rome, and then it’s back on the wave-hunt by flying to Bulgaria to begin work on a documentary based around searching for surf in the Caspian Sea.

That particular trip involved driving overland from Bulgaria to Istanbul, then catching a plane to Baku, Azerbaijan, which is a place I feel you don’t regularly find many pro surfers. This, of course, is further evidence of the ever expanding quest of searching for waves in places you’d never think there was good surf.

On top of this particular 6-week whirlwind, Walsh was also spotted this year taking two trips to Indonesia, two to Fiji, three to Mexico, and of course, a couple of trips to Las Vegas thrown in for good measure.

If planning these trips sounds like a logistical nightmare, consider the fact the majority of pro surfers are sculpting their travel arrangements around shifting swell models of where they think the next big storm is going to rear its ugly head. It’s not unheard of for surfers to chase a swell from Tahiti to Hawaii to California and literally ride the same waves (albeit at smaller levels) they just rode the day before.

To add an additional variable, pro surfers don’t exactly have the luxury of flying carry-on with their favorite roll-aboard luggage. Aside from schlepping around a quiver of anywhere from 4-10 boards (which are really fun to travel with when flying to Mozambique and boarding a dilapidated fishing boat for a 3 week feral mission into the middle of nowhere), the modern surfer needs a small studio of electronics such as camera gear, video gear, and laptops to document the entire journey for the sponsors, magazines, and surf companies who make a lot of the travel possible.

So the next time you’re riding business class lamenting the fact you’ve been on the road for the last 2 weeks, consider the fact there’s some surfer out there trying to stuff a big silver board bag into a decrepit Nicaraguan taxi who’s chasing a swell he spotted while camped out somewhere in Sri Lanka. He’s sleep-deprived, heavily vaccinated, and willing to throw himself over a 20-foot ledge onto a jagged coral reef all for a chance to chase the dream we call the cover of a magazine.

In other words, it’s just another day on the job.

For more info on Ian Walsh and a greater window into the life of a professional surfer, check out the surf blog weekwithwalshy.com.

Photo: {Justin Clark; weekwithwalshy.com}

Video of The Day: Bangkok featured in skate video

by Elizabeth Seward on

I just saw beautiful images of Bangkok in a, what turned out to be, surprising skate video. BillabongASIA’s Geng Jakkarin is profiled in this video titled “I Skate Because”. And while Jakkarin’s story is moving and his skate tricks are, well, sick, I couldn’t help but fixate on the Bangkok sights and scenes within the short film. The video starts off with a shot of a painted train over a track that states, ‘Bangkok, City of Life’, and the self-described vivacious city’s stunning scenery unfolds in the background of this video from there. Storm clouds, graffiti, Palm Trees, and the sun setting on the water-fronted horizon act as a backdrop to slick skate moves and a the personal story of just one exceptionally talented skater from Thailand. But sometimes this is the way I like to see things–to experience them in my periphery, to imprint them subconsciously as the forefront demands my attention, as I drift away from the main point and toward the buzzing beautiful background.