Irreligion: Ski bums and dirtbags

People move to Aspen/Snowmass for a variety of reasons. A few of those reasons might be economics, party-lifestyle, or outdoor activities. Back in the ’70s and even the ’80s, if your activity was skiing (with minimal consideration for economics), you were a ski bum. If by some terrible misfortune, you decided to take up rock climbing and then fell in with that tiny clique of climbers who lived in Aspen back then, you might have been known as a dirtbag climber.

Both activities entailed little or no monetary concern unless you had to buy skis, boots, climbing gear, or gas. Lift passes were unnecessary because there were on-mountain jobs that came with a free pass and food was always optional.

Back in the day, of all those who had mastered both disciplines of ski bum and dirtbag, there could be little doubt that Lou Dawson was the Grand Master. Who else could climb 5.11 when that was the hardest rating in the world and be the first to climb and ski all the 14ers in Colorado? His recent book, “Avalanche Dreams,” memorializes not just the lifestyle of those heady days, but also the many truly amazing athletes, inventors, visionaries, writers, and adventurers whom he climbed and skied with. The book almost has a Forrest Gump feel to it due to his friendships with so many of the legends of the time — some quirky, some eccentric, and some just plain crazy but none who epitomized the lifestyle more than Lou.   

A great narrative always has many interwoven strands and this book is no different. One of the most prominent strands is the relationships and mini-biographies of the various personalities. It’s hard to imagine those early days of Colorado Outward Bound without Jerry Roberts, Tim Lane, Denny Hogan, and the Great Bacon Heist. Lou dutifully records the terrible crime all the while teaching his own Outward Bound courses and climbing and skiing thirty 13ers and 14ers in just thirty days. (How is that even possible?) Then there is Lou-the-guinea pig taking whippers in Yosemite to test Ray Jardine’s revolutionary invention of climbing’s first active protection (Friends), an invention that changed the sport forever. For a guy known as the grandmaster of backcountry skiing, it is a true gesture of modesty to include a chapter on Chris Landry’s godlike ski descent of the east face of Pyramid Peak — a feat that has inspired generations of wannabe backcountry and extreme skiers.  

After reading the book, I have one burning question: Lou talked the normally very deliberate Michael Kennedy into doing a winter ascent of the north face of Capitol Peak with only down jackets as bivi gear. Keep in mind this is the day before Garmin inReach. And by the way, were they really able to climb ice with Peter Hutter’s Rooster Head axes? (Thank you, Peter, for trying.) People forget how primitive the climbing gear was back then. For example, the standard crampon in those days were strap-on (not step-in), and they could, and did, fall off and/or break, which was always … terrifying. Speaking of water ice climbing, there is another white-knuckled account of the first ascent of one of Colorado’s most famous hard-man ice climbs — the four pitch Ames Ice Hose outside of Telluride. This was done again with Michael and again with no real bivi gear, just the infamous down jackets. May I remind the reader that winter nights in the Colorado Rockies can be very cold? As a testimony to Lou’s gift for writing, he somehow makes these suffer-fests seem funny. There is a theme here: his ability to talk people into really sketchy projects. Maybe he missed his calling as a salesman or a realtor: “You don’t really need to have legal access to your property; you can figure all that out later.” And just how did Lou manage to talk so many guys into three heinous attempts to cross the Elk Range in winter? Always without a weather forecast (but only once without a tent).

There are always so many threads, inextricably intertwined, that make up the rich tapestry of anyone’s life. I have left out many strands in this brief introduction — the vision, the discipline, and the stamina to be the first to climb and ski all the 14ers in Colorado; Lou’s climb and then epic ski descent of Denali with his son Louie; then the final chapter: the denouement on the Columbia Ice Field with his wife Lisa.

Maybe that is the most poignant strand of this grandmaster’s life of all things ski bum and dirtbag — how it all changes when Lou meets Lisa for the first time as she steps off the plane at Sardy field. Now that is an Aspen love story!

 I will be interviewing Lou about his new book at Explorer Books in Aspen on Friday afternoon, Sept. 13. Buy a copy of Lou’s book. You won’t regret it.