Confessions of a Chasta follower.

Windzup · Sun Mar 12, 2006 8:54 pm

Follow me... two simple words that are not so easy to live up to.

As we arrived at Strawbs, the North wind was already rolling in at 25 mph. The 7.5 Frenzy was going to be the call for the day. By the time I was suited up and laying out my kite, Chasta had already finished a warm up session, and was letting me know to head upwind to the Kite Park. Several tacks into the wind and a couple miles later, and I was following the man thru his natural kite park (a gravel pit covered in 3 feet of snow. There were pyramid hits and ramps in every direction, along with wave-like windlips. We were drawn further into the wind, and made our way over to the half-pipes. There are two to choose from; a small rounded one and a huge super-pipe, each with double sided quarter pipes on the outer sides of the pipe. This abandoned railway has morphed into the sickest kiter park ever and we followed each others lines across this playground for hours. With the legs getting worked from all of the terrain, I decided to head out for a long run. As I tore off, so did my mentor, taking the lead, and heading full speed for two bright colors on the horizon. As we caught up with the dancing colors, we realized it was Whitsy and Big Al, going for a cross-lake run. Together our four kites chased the horizon all the way to the far shoreline. Rob and Al hit the turn point and sped back towards the launch point, while I decided to follow Chasta up the shore and over a giant rounded hill. As I summited, I stopped for a minute to search for his kite in the sky. "Dammit", I knew if I let him out of my site I would lose him. Then I saw a shadow rustling behind a tree, and I realized that Chasta was sitting on a park bench by the lodge taking a break, so I joined him. From our bench view, we scoped out these huge canyons, on the other end of the lake, we would later learn these were the Lake Strawberry narrows. Realizing that no one knew where we were or where we wanted to be, we cruised back to the launch area to arrange a downwinder pick-up. On the way we grabbed Rob, Big Al and Marty for an epic run.
From the parking area, Chasta hollered "Follow me" and we all set off one behind the other chasing lines downwind along a hillside...........A hillside covered in rocks and cliffs, where was this madman leading us. Quickly I realized that the boulder dodging and cliff dropping was not for me and I carved my way down to the flat lake at the base. As I gained speed I noticed that my wing man was making his way higher and higher up the slope. Suddenly, he left the snow and soared out for a huge jump off the top of the hillside. But the winds were coming across the lake straight at the face of this ridgeline, creating a perfect updraft with the wind being sent straight up as it hit the hillside like a ramp. So as Chasta flew out over me, he turned his kite, and stayed in the air flying above me for a half mile as we cruised down the range. Of course this discovery led to an impromptu 'fly session' that gave all of us a chance to rest while we watched in awe as this Snowkiter flew higher and farther each time.
Time to roll, so four of us launched our kites again and set out across the lake to the far shoreline by the canyons. We chose the first canyon, as we knew it was more direct back to a roadside and our eventual pick-up. Looping our kites endlessly and figure eighting them as we cruised straight down the narrows, taking forks to the right and left as the lake separated in its many directions. A river to the left opened a view to a cabin covered hillside, our goal was just a few miles ahead now.

Not wanting to end, we followed Chasta again as he broke away and headed up a slope which eventually led to another valley of terrain. The bad news was a barbed wire fence and low power lines were awaiting us at the end of this last powder run. The first under is of course C-Man, who ollies the fence and carefully maneuvers his kite under the lines. The two skiers follow, helping each other, one grapped both bars while the other grapped the kites and walked them under the lines. Meanwhile, this snowboarder is the last out, as I decided to make the safe call and roll up my kite and lines and walk them under the Deadly Power lines. After about three steps of post holing to my thighs, I realized that I had neglected to bring my Backcountry pack with Snowshoes and supplies. By the time I walked out to an open area on the other side, I watched Chasta's kite disappear over the far hills on the other side of the next lake crossing. No time to lose, get the kite up and get rolling, I needed to catch up with the skiers that were already halfway across the lake. I put some snow on my trailing edge and unrolled the lines, the kite lifted into the sky and I took off down the ravine towards the lake. Halfway across the lake I could feel the wind dropping, as I had to start really working the kite to get every bit of power out of it. As I caught up with Rob and Al I could see they were struggling to make it up this last hillside. The lack of wind was affecting us all, except for the lead man who cruised out early with the good wind. Lesson learned.......SPEED is SAFETY!

After several attempts at gaining ground on the slope I gave up. Each pass I made it lower and further downwind. Any farther and I would be hiking a long way, so when the wind let my kite fall from the sky, I decided to roll it up and start the hike up. By now my thoughts are reflecting the lack of food I had eaten today, pretty much just a cup of coffee and a Red Bull, breakfast of champions you know. I had hopped in with my friends to carpool out to the spot, and I had forgotten my helmet, my pack, my snow shoes, my water........and now I am miles from the road, tired, thirsty, hungry, post holing.......I was crashing. Each step took longer than the previous as I battled my way through the deep snow. Finally I reached the top, where falling snow and a light breeze was waiting along with my skier buds. Seeing me, they took off and made their way down this final slope and onto the last stretch of lake. Once again I unrolled my kite and set up to launch. This was the shortest run yet, just a hundred yards away the wind completely shut down on me, and I looked up to see the skiers turning around the corner onto the lake. Too tired to walk towards my kite, I rolled the lines in and pulled the kite towards me to wrap it up. I unhooked my harness and put it around my kite to hold it all in one unit as I attempted to roll down the flat slope. It was too flat to get going, and too deep to walk in, so I resorted back to some of my more primitive skills. I set the kite down on the board between the bindings and sat on it. With my feet on the nose of the board I paddled with my hands making steady headway. By the time I reached the lake I was completely exhausted. I had been riding since 11 am and I was nearly finished with one of the sweetest runs ever, and all I could think about was stopping. That was not an option, I was still over a mile from the retrieval point, and at least the snow on the lake was packed down and only a few inches deep. I connected my harness leash to the boards bindings and drug it behind me as I followed the three tracks carved out in the snow.

Confessions of a Chasta follower.

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