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» The author finds that spring descents in the Sangres don’t come easy. Mission

» O’Neil digs into a healthy plate of Sangre mashed potatoes.

Max rise of the Sangres » In the shadow of giants. above the San Luis Chuck Roth (left) and O’Neil below 14,294-foot Valley floor (feet): The Vortex . Chasing shamans, couloirs, and emptiness in ’s Sangre de Cristo 7,000 . Words by Devon O’Neil. PHOTOS BY LIAM DORAN. Average pack weight The upslope wind swirled like a hurricane prairie, they run north-south like an iguana A bathtub-size block ripped free and rumbled (pounds): through a tunnel as we reached the top of the spine with 96 peaks taller than 13,000 feet and down the throat like a wrecking ball, leaving » Where my 70 couloir. A wash of ice pellets pummeled my 10 . Savage winds plague the range, six-inch dents in its path. We grinned at each whiskey at!? face, and I dug my crampons in like talons to and snowfall is spotty. Aside from a ghost ski other. The couloir was good to go. Population of the tiny snow platform at 13,700 feet. For two area, Conquistador, near the ranching town of The third member of our team, photographer Crestone, Colorado: hours, we had scrambled up steep rock and Westcliffe, the Sangres have little connection Liam Doran, had torn an oblique on the hike in, ice-crusted snow to reach this point, a 10-foot- to skiing. Which, of course, is why we made the so he reluctantly shot from above as Chuck and 127 wide saddle at the middle of a mile-long knife- trip last May. I dropped in and arced fast, wall-to-wall turns edge spine. The massif in Colo- I peered over the opposite side of the tiny to the bottom through snow of a windblown Years it took Devon O’Neil to plan a trip to rado’s is considered by saddle and prayed for a better option. “Whoa. quality we didn’t expect to find. the Sangres: the valley’s community of spiritual settlers to Get a look at this,” I said to Chuck Roth, one be one of the world’s great “energy vortexes,” of two friends who joined me on the trip. He When we arrived the day before in the 5 but the only energy I’d felt up to now was dread. glanced over the edge and lit up. Somehow we’d tiny town of Crestone—our­ access point at the If we had to ski down what we’d just climbed stumbled upon a steep-walled chute that ran base of 14,165-foot Kit Carson Peak—dread- Liam Doran is a Breckenridge, up, it was going to be ugly. all the way to the valley floor—and it appeared locked locals and a throwback aura greeted us. Colorado–based photographer. I immediately understood why the Sangres to be filled in with powder. “We should prob- On one side of the main drag, a cowboy galloped When he’s not slogging into may be the emptiest mountains in Colorado ably ski it,” Chuck deadpanned, and without by on horseback. On the other, a bearded mo- remote ranges for Skiing, he shoots action during winter despite being only four hours another word, we dropped to our stomachs and torcyclist in ski goggles buzzed past a barefoot sports for several outdoor

south of . Jutting from an ocean of hacked into the overhanging cornice with axes. couple out for a stroll. But the rootsy vibe only publications. 31

30 || 11.2012 Mission 32 32 || next four days convincing herthat shewould you to arrive,” hetold Hanne. He thenspent the appeared at theirdoor. “I’ve beenwaiting for Strongs settled in,alocal shamaninhis80s U.S. troops serving inGuam.Shortlyafter the and was later pitched asretirement plotsto had oncebeenowned by theKingofSpain what’s known astheBaca Grande. Theland acquired alarge tract oflandsouth oftown in lomat Maurice Strong andhiswife, Hanne, tells halfofCrestone’s story. In thelate ’70s, millionare Canadian dip- 11.2012 dirt road locals call SpiritualRow. Thoughtheir two dozen temples, stupas, andchurches linea exploitation.” and harmony instead ofgreed andwaste and bring forth anew civilization that lives inpeace purpose oftheplace,” Hanne told me,“was to from Europe to theHimalayas. “Themain of Christ”peaks to divergent religious groups began granting landat thebase ofthe “Blood any intheworld. Sure enough,sheandMaurice turn Crestone into aspiritual sanctuary unlike Today at thefoot oftheSangres, more than L late-spring corn.” gracefully executes a creek crossing. Above town, hesaid—but otherwise wished uswell hunter onceshota200-pounder justoutside years I’ve lived here.” anyone skiingupthere,” hesaid. “Not inthe15 Our answer surprised him.“I’ve never heard of asked why we were headedupSpanishCreek. than inasunken, adobe-looking greenhouse, he “He’s intheEarthship.” Whenwe found Jona - trail began. “Jonathan can tell you,” shesaid. gained aworldwide following. tation ofGodnotbornwoman, hequickly northern Indiain1970. Considered amanifes- goes, was discovered meditating inacave in named Haidakhan Babaji.Babaji,thestory Hindu shrinewhere devotees worship abeing up to theHaidakhandi Universal Ashram, a still didn’t know what to expect whenwe drove granted uspermission to cross their land,butI the bestskiingandcamping—had happily to SpanishCreek—which we’d heard offered Perhaps even skiers like us. the vortex—that draws peopleto thearea. presence ofarare andextraordinary energy— various religious groups have confirmedthe beliefs aboutthepeaks vary, leaders from the eft He warned usofmountain lions—alocal We asked awoman at theashram where the The two spiritualcenters that control access »

White mencanjump. The author »

“Thank Babajifor steep, smooth,

Photo Credit 34

mission

Crestone, Colorado

Kit Carson Peak

Camp Crestone Peak

Trailhead Crestone Mountain Zen Center

Top » The sun sets on the Tashi Gomang Stupa. Bottom » The route into the unknown. Right » The shrine for Haidakhan Babaji.

and pointed us a few hundred yards down rarity of our experience. The fact that we were so many enlightened people live at the foot of Spiritual Row to the Crestone Mountain Zen skiing here at all, alone in Shangri-la, ended up these mountains yet never venture into them Center, a home for one of five different Bud- making the conditions inconsequential. with skis. dhist lineages in Crestone. A young German On our third day up high, we started on the Going into the trip, I’d hoped to experience woman with a shaved head greeted us and back side of 14,294-foot Crestone Peak and the energy vortex for myself. When two-time echoed Jonathan’s warning. “Be careful,” she U.S. extreme-skiing champion Rex Wehrman said. “We’ve had a lion hanging around campus visited Spanish Creek in 1994, he spent two this week, pooping everywhere.” The Kit Carson massif is sleepless nights haunted by noises eminating Fifteen minutes later, she and the rest of considered to be one of from the water—an odd mix of country music, the monks watched us march into the woods the world’s great a raging party, and foreign jibberish. (No drugs; G oogle E arth with 70-pound packs. “You nutty skiers,” a man “energy vortexes,” but I asked.) I wanted some kind of strange, inex- whispered as we passed. the only energy I’d felt plicable memento of my own. I never got one. gency/ until now was dread. But each night around the fire when I watched During the course of our stay, we cer- stars streak across the black sky, I seriously tainly skied some runs that were scoured and gradually worked our way down the drainage wondered if there was anyone else in the entire frozen. At times, the hop turns were downright back to camp by skiing five shorter, north- range. I suppose it was the next best thing. scary. We lumbered through deadfall, got raked facing lines. Each shaded slot brought a new and bloodied by thorns, and lost our way in a sense of exploration, each descent a unique desert canyon teeming with mountain lions. rush. I can’t recall a day when I’ve had more Devon O’Neil is a frequent Skiing contributor and freelance journalist living in Breckenridge, Yet as we inhaled logs of hickory sausage in fun backcountry skiing. At lunch, we spread Colorado. He grew up in the U.S. Virgin Islands but camp, no one seemed to regret any of it. We out on a sunny rock and craned our necks to now prefers long approaches and steep descents in

mountains around the world. A S ervice Farm of USDA erial courtesy were too enamored with the place itself and the inspect our tracks. It struck me as a pity that A

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