Day three began with another 2 hours of XC skiing up in Ironton, the same track Lisa (@visualadventure) took me to on Saturday morning. On the second lap, a few things were making themselves evident:

(1) My ankle was swelling. More. Hello, hardware.

(2) I was going to be sore as all hell.

(3) Damn – it was a gorgeous day.

We sometimes go through life so fast that we forget to stop and LOOK. Well, yesterday, I looked. I was well-rewarded.

Following skiing, I snuck down to Mouse’s, purveyors of chocolate porn, and grabbed a hot tea and some treats to take back to some unsuspecting youngsters. I took my tea up to the Ice Park in search of a few stray souls I had yet to find…and voila! A few shorts steps revealed Margo Talbot, Cheryl and Kate (plus Jackson the Very Cool Dog). Delighted to catch up with Margo and reconnect with Cheryl and Kate, I said some hellos and then headed back to the B&B to chill and get some work done. I had a long, hot bath, some more tea and a nap.

The evening culminated in dinner with Jason & Lisa (100% of Visual Adventures) and a few hours of fantastic conversation. It’s funny – I’m in Ouray a few times a year and each time, I’m surrounded by these phenomenal athletes. Humble, giving…they’re just real people and it’s a real pleasure to be in their midst. There in The Outlaw were Vince Anderson, Steve House, Kim Czimazia, Will Gadd, Ines Papert and more. The coolest part of the evening had to be the spontaneous round of applause launched for Will Gadd as The Outlaw acknowledged his successful completion of the Endless Ascent at noon that day (I’ve heard he’s raised over $30,000 – incredible, and thank you, Will). Will just stood there, speechless. Humble. I also finally got to meet a friend of a friend I’ve never met, Colin. We said our hellos outside The Outlaw in the cold-as-balls eve. Thanks, Timmaaaaay, for the intro!

Now that I’m home and have had a car drive to think about this year’s Ice Fest festivities, I’m going to throw out a few thoughts and maybe the board of the Ice Park will catch wind of one or two. Maybe not. Whatever comes of them, they’re thoughts from a 4 time Ice Fest attendee  - take ‘em or leave ‘em:

• Ice Park Membership - I personally feel it should be mandatory for every clinic attendee. Use the Park, support the Park.
• Clinic Ropes – 2 ropes for 6 people is shite. The gorge is freezing and standing around sucks infinite ass. Change registration to allow 7 per clinic and add a 3rd rope. With clinics only 2.5 hours long and some approaches taking 20 minutes, more climbing time is only fair.
• Competitions – Speed climbing? Hellooooooo…things I’d like to see come back. It rocks.
• Event Pricing – You doubled all of the dinners this year from $10 to $20. The dinners were worth $10, not $20. I’ll never pay $20, especially since I don’t drink and I’m gluten/dairy-free. You’ve lost me, and I think you lost a lot of other people this year.
• Events – Too much going on, especially the night of the Superhero party. Pick an event, drive people to it, be successful.
• Movie Choice – While the movie on the Eiger attempts was brilliant and moving, I don’t really want to see a flick about four people dying on an alpine climb if I’m…uhhh…GONNA GO CLIMB ICE THE NEXT DAY! Just sayin’.
• Shuttle Service – Hella good. Bravo for this new addition.
• Cups – WTF? (‘nuf said)
• Dates – I really preferred it, and I think all of Ouray did as well, when this event was on MLK weekend. I know, I know – OR bogarted your dates. Eff them all to H. Get your weekend back, yo! Ouray depends on YOU to make the Ice Fest worth their time and effort. Turnout would have been much better, I’m sure, had the holiday weekend date tradition been honored.

Lisa drove us up to Ironton where we hit the Ironton Nordic Trailhead. 2 loops, 6 “hills,” some ass-plants and a boatload of sunshine later, we’d had a great morning of cross-country action at 8000 feet. I had to head back for my 12:30pm clinic at the Ouray Ice Festival. I hit the B&B (I’m staying at the Secret Garden – a client and the comfiest beds in town!), grabbed my ice gear, put on my ice boots for the first time since the Ankle Incident of ‘09, and set out to walk to the Ice Park.

Only a 15 minute walk, I admittedly wanted the cardio and hill climb. I could have taken the shuttle, but where’s the fun in that? I got up to the sponsor tents and found that my clinic (Advanced Ice for Women) was to be taught by Angela Hawse…freakin’ W00T! Angela was one of my first guides at Chicks With Picks when I started ice climbing and just a killer teacher. Patient, talented and it’s just obvious she’s one of those people who are truly living their dream. I have yet to catch up with my friend Margot Talbot (also one of my first guides at Chicks). Margo used to guide Mt. Vinson and do Zodiac tours of Antarctica and is an incredible ice climbing instructor. Hopefully I’ll see her today!

Anywhoo – I’d told Angela about the Ankle Incident just to give her a heads-up. Our group set out into the gorge. The approaches to many of the climbing areas at the Ouray Ice Park have burly approaches. Not like Death Incarnate or anything, but steep and tedious. Two things of which my ankle is not a fan, apparently. My hardware started banging up against the sides of the boot. Serious suckage. Flat terrain down below proved a reward. Yaaaay – bottom!

Clinics, from a logistics standpoint at the Ice Fest, are tough. You’re working with people in a wide range of capabilities and for 6 people, they give you two ropes. Which means when it’s below freezing in the gorge, there’s a lot of cold standing around. It was to be my demise yesterday. I got in 2/3 of a pitch and decided to come down, knowing that working the top section would take me a bit and I didn’t want to be a rope hog. Climbing = warm. Belaying/waiting = cold. I got stuck on an epic belay for another gal in my clinic (it happens), and my feet froze out. Diagnosed with Raynaud’s Phenomenon back in 2006, my digits get cold and fast. I never got in another climbing time and had to hike out to warm up. Bummer, but the ice will be there when I come back and staying warm is paramount. The ankle was pissed from the approach banging and swelling in my boot. Time to call it a day.

The comp was going on up above – this is the part of the Ice Fest where incredibly talented athletes climb a hard-as-shit route with a pucker factor of 11 for the glory of the win. Friends (The Fields, not of cookie-making fame) were rooting for Caroline George who unfortunately had a peel-off fluke low on the course. I’d taken a mixed climbing clinic awhile back from Josh Wharton (who moved through mixed routes like they’re a symphony and he’s a concert pianist), and was hoping he’d pull out another win or be given a serious run for his money. I’d heard that evening from Piper that he’d won. Applause, Josh! Not that you have any idea who I am, but bravo anywhoo and know that some of those delicate footwork techniques vastly improved my footwork on steep ice. You can view the entire comp results here.

After the day, I was zapped. Skiing, hiking, approaches, climbing…my body was one huge middle finger. Everyone I knew was bagging the overpriced lasagna dinner event that evening and Piper and I had decided to cook. None of the group meals here are dairy or gluten-free, so as of this year, I’d be skipping them anyway. Fine and dandy – we made meat, garlic, sauce and brown rice penne (listed in order of importance) with salad. It was fat kid/cake = nomnom.

The big event of the evening was the Guy Lacelle Tribute Superhero Party at the Opera House, preceded by a movie event. My friends and I opted for the movie with the party on “tentative” status. The parties here are legendary, run late and filled with drunken debauchery – not so much the scene for many in my group.  The flick du jour? A screening of a German film called The North Face (Norwand), a slightly fictionalized account of the German Reich’s push for glory on the treacherous Eiger. The film, while brilliant (and humbling when you compare mountaineering techniques from the 30s to present day), left me wanted to sell all of my gear on eBay and slit my wrists. Death is a kissing cousin for those who pursue high altitude mountaineering and all four of the climbers featured in the film met with heinous and painful demises. THANKS FOR THE DOWNER! The majority of us felt completely unfestive, bagged the party and retired for the evening.

Back at the B&B, I did hot/cold therapy on my ankle and decided I would go Nordic skiing again today. I’ve given my morning clinic spot to Piper, knowing that my Steep Ice clinic is undoubtedly in the same location I was in yesterday and with the same approach. Today, I’ll check out the vendor booths, catch up with more friends and get my cardio on up in Ironton.

Thanks for checking in with The Redhead. Spongebob Square Ankle and I are looking forward to another day of adventure, while it won’t be on the ice.

At 5am this morning, my alarm went off and I’m fairly sure I grunted. The next word out of my mouth was likely “fuuuuuuck” and I rolled out of bed and headed to the shower. It was Go Time. T-minus one hour and counting till I left for Ouray for the annual Ouray Ice Fest.

Yup – if you’re new to Erikaville, I climb ice. Willingly. And I dig it. Each year, I make the soujurn from WherethefuckeverI’mliving, USA to Ouray, Colorado to climb, mix and mingle with four years worth of friends. New, old…the friend status doesn’t matter. Two things you can be sure of in Ouray, though: it’ll be balls-ass cold and beer will flow like milk from a cow’s teat.

Ice is nice...Erika gets vertical

Today was filled with meeting a long-term client I’d never met in Ridgway for lunch and catching up with friends on the way into town. Tonight is the annual dinner benefitting the Ouray volunteer fire department followed by an athlete slide show (which are always top-notch and awe-inspiring). Tomorrow? A morning of nordic skiing with my friend Lisa followed by an afternoon technical climbing clinic (Steep Ice Technique). I’ll check in with you tomorrow eve when I return, but until then, wish me warm thoughts. It’s possible I’m nuts for what I love, but I’ve been called worse than “nuts.”