Build My Own FeedVIDEO: BD athlete Zack Giffin skiing in Chile
Black Diamond athlete Zack Giffin has spent the last month down in Chile, enjoying the South American winter, working with photographers, shooting video and chasing the snow—basically living the dream. Below is a report and video Zack put together from the trip, plus some sick photos from photographer Grant Gunderson.
Pulling myself away from the bear-trap strength of my girlfriend’s embrace is hard. She is so exhausted that her words are barely audible through her sunburnt chapped lips and her eyes won’t focus through the swollen eyelids left from a night of tears. I thought I would be the tired one. After a full day of hiking and skiing, then a night in the South American forest, and a slow 10-mile bushwhack back to the base of Cerro Catedral, I should be. But I can’t sleep now.
How did I let this happen? I am the one who is supposed to think ahead, bring extra clothing, water, food, medical equipment, and batteries. I’m the person who is asked to assist in the rescue and have the strength and emotional control to foresee and avoid problems before they happen. It has been over 12 years since my group has been the focus of a search party and I never expected it would happen again. But the eventual success of our “adventure” does not erase the long hours of a sleepless night, my lovely girlfriend spent not knowing where I was; her only certainty being that I was in a foreign country, deep in unfamiliar backcountry, in the middle of a cold winter night, likely alone…
The reality of my situation was much more pleasant; the culmination of what had so far been a perfect trip. Arriving in Santiago on the 21st of August, things seemed to move too smoothly. After receiving notice by a flight attendant that my overweight luggage was not on the plane, I landed only to find it waiting right where it should have been and a transfer ready to take us to the bus station where we caught a six-hour ride to Termas De Chillan. Termas, it turns out, was the only place in Chile with any snow and they were having a record season. Photographer Grant Gunderson had pulled some strings and set us up at the Grand Hotel de Termas, a far too high-end establishment sporting a spa, casino, and its own hot springs, which had likely never hosted a ski bum of my pedigree. From there our streak of good luck continued. We met many good friends from Mt. Baker randomly. The $150 lunches, which on the fourth day we learned were not part of the deal, in the end, were paid for by the hotel. We had new snow the first day, with amazing sunsets all week, and well-sculpted booters were already built. It did rain at the end of the week, but even that turned into a blessing, by lending the motivation to turn down an offer from the hotel to stay an extra few days. Instead we changed plans and took an overnight Semi Camas (sleeper) bus to Osorno and then on to Bariloche, Argentina, where the Santa Rosa dropped three meters that week.
Right off the bat, we lucked out again. Running into a longtime friend and SASS coach Miles Clark, who’s friend Jake Cohn guided us through the deep tree lines just out of bounds and beyond to the hiking access of Laguna. From there the days kept improving. One more day of snow found us back in the trees; this time with Grant capturing the deepness with filtered sunshine. The next day, the stage was set to be epic: Full blue skies, stable, deep powder conditions, and a whole new mountain for the exploring. Almost immediately I found myself by myself. Not slowing down for pictures or amigos, I dropped lines without pause and only a relative understanding of their legitimacy (a primary reason for my girlfriend’s concern). By my third lap, I found myself heading up a more distant zone, tempted by three huge stone pillars with chutes on all sides. At the top, instead of the rocks, I found three new Argentinean friends who easily persuaded me to follow a bit further out the ridge to an area I had not even contemplated skiing.
The three amigos were all members of CAF, or Club Argentina Freeski, and were right in the middle of one of their best days of the season. Dropping in behind Santiago I was impressed when it became apparent that his high-speed course was leading directly to the first of what would be many perfectly shaped airs to flat. As we dropped elevation the snow got better and the landings softer. What had started as semi-reluctant participation turned into flat-tacular enthusiasm, as I gladly opted to air over, rather than smash the pillows. I should have known after the first run that the next would be a long one. At six o’clock I found myself far out the opposite side of the mountain, having bootstomped around a rocky ridge and traversed a precariously exposed, wind-loaded, sun-affected face. The slope in front dropped 2000 feet through an area known as the Zebra Chutes to the valley drainage far, far from the parking lot where I was supposed to meet my group in just under an hour. Realizing the impossibility of making that connection, a call was made on a cell phone (that somehow got reception) to Santiago’s girlfriend, who so kindly agreed to relay a message to my friends at 7:00 p.m. at our shuttle. What I didn’t properly account for was the language barrier.
The messenger only spoke Spanish, while my friends really only spoke English. The message was delivered, but there were unanswered questions that lead to doubt. The one thing that did get through was that I was with new friends and I would meet my group at the place in Bariloche later that night. Well, as it went at about 7:00 p.m. when this message was being delivered, I was in the very first hour of what would turn into a five-hour exodus. When we finally made it back to the base area, everyone was fine other than a few sore feet and hungry bellies, but the options for rides had dwindled into nothing. And my reserve plan, the Internet, turned out to not be possible. Without a phone number, a real idea of exactly where it was that I had been staying, or a ride to get there, I made the decision to stay at the CAF house and meet my group in the morning. How can I say this? I fucked up. Thinking back I should have called a cab (which never even entered my mind), or just waited on the road until some night janitor headed home. What I shouldn’t have done was go to sleep before informing my group and my heart-wrenched girlfriend that I was OK.
Lessons learned in Argentina.
— Zack
United States / English 
24 Sep 2010, 1:44PM
Nice video, good mood, great soundtrack.
Beautiful snow!