Most people would never be willing to jump into an ice-topped lake in the middle of winter for any cause, even to save their own mother, but there are a few that would be tempted to participate in a polar plunge once just to cross it off their bucket list. Then there are those, like us, who have plunged again and again. We habitual jumpers repeat this tradition for a different reason- we are crazy.
For the third consecutive year, Jason and I took part in the Polar Bear Plunge, a fundraiser for the Special Olympics. Now, before you gasp in dismay, remember: no ill-fated endeavor is too idiotic for charity. Diving into 30 degree water is stupid but diving into 30 degree water for a cause is heroic…or at least benevolently foolhardy. And believe me, you need those goodwill warm fuzzies when you’re submerged in water so cold that you can’t breathe.
Our super team featured Mario, Luigi, Princess Peach, Toad, Waluigi, and Wario.
Our team again dressed in ridiculous costumes for this event. This time Super Mario Bros. was our muse. Because of my blonde hair, I was nominated to come as Princess Peach. Being royalty was okay with me but it did require some gussying up. I didn’t finish sewing my skirt, crown, and necklace until 2 AM the morning of the jump due to some other stitching projects consuming all of my time. It’s hard being a Highness.
Jason and Jeremy again pulled out their special Speedos for this special event.
Our geeky theme turned out to be immensely popular. While we arrived too late to participate in the costume contest, which for unknown reasons started half an hour earlier than scheduled, I’m pretty certain that we would have won had we been present. Once our team had all gathered, it took us about 20 minutes to move the few yards to the jump line because so many people wanted their picture taken with us. Our costumes also attracted the attention of news crews and we ended up being interviewed by two different stations. Oh the woes of being everyone’s darlings! See the links I posted in the comments section to check out those news clips.
Your unavoidable fate as a Popsicle fills you with horror as you plummet toward that icy water.
We were expecting to be blown about and snowed upon by a winter storm as we were bounding into Utah Lake but, thankfully, the skies cleared unexpectedly that morning for a bit. Although it was still unbearably cold, that sunshine, and its imagined warmth, made us feel a little better about charging into water that had been covered with ice 18 inches thick just a few days earlier. The lake was so iced up this year that the usual chainsaw method could not be used to cut a plunging hole. Yup, it’s been a frigid winter and the bits of the lake that weren’t frozen solid felt like they might as well have been when we hit them.
No matter how many times you’ve plunged, that water always feels colder than you remember it being.
The plunge was a miserable but fun experience. Several of our would-be teammates chickened out at the last minute and practically had to be forced into signing up. They claimed that this would be their final plunge ever. Yet, before feeling had even returned to their extremities, they were plotting next year’s costumes. I guess that pre-plunge dread makes some people forget that this wacky experience isn’t all suffering. I can guarantee that Jason and I will be participating again next year because we are just that stupid. We don’t let things like heart-stopping cold, hypothermia, or frozen limbs get in the way of making fools of ourselves. And making fools of ourselves for a cause is even better. May the Speedo-girded glory of the Plunging Plumbers reign forever!
Jason and I have been home even less frequently than usual as of late. Between mini-vacations, Sundance films, work trips, and all that regular stuff, the last few weeks have flown by in an awful hurry. But that didn’t stop us from somehow squishing yet another weekend getaway into our schedule. Our friends, Cam and Jim, are involved in a business together. They, along with their wives, were going to spend a couple days at a cabin up at Daniels Summit as a corporate retreat. Jason and I are not connected with their company in any way but they extended an invite for us to tag along nonetheless. We are usually the ones offering the free stays so this was a reversal of norms. I guess sometimes karma does give kickbacks.
The cabin had a large living area that made a great place to relax and laugh.
The cabin turned out to be monstrous. I think our house would probably have fit in it a couple times over. Its cozy living space quickly became game central. Jason and I taught the gang Saboteur and then tried to teach everyone Bang. The concept of Bang is apparently more elusive than I thought, which explains why the team Jason and I were on slaughtered all the others effortlessly.
Jason and I got trapped in our room by a blockade of fluff.
After our gaming that first night, Jason became a rabble-rouser. My hubby is an instigator, as many of you know, and he was in true mischief-maker mode that evening. He prompted a few juvenile pranks and soon pillows were flying everywhere. Before long, that ringleader and I found ourselves barricaded in our room by a wall of couch cushions. Good times.
Our posse of riders boldly went where no snowmobile had gone before…and then got stuck there.
The next day we spent all hours of light out on Daniels Summit’s many trails and meadows with our rented snowmobiles. The area has plentiful path options, some of which take as long as 2 hours to loop. For the most part we traveled as an earsplitting pack but Jason and I took a breather from the group midday in order to hit the Summit’s summit. Apparently, when the skies are clear the view is amazing from the top but we couldn’t see the blanketed valleys strewn out below us; we couldn’t even see a few feet in the distance. Although a cloud was taking a rest on the saddle, making visibility minimal and temperatures chilly, we still enjoyed checking out that misty peak.
It looks like I’ve got a grey backdrop behind me but it’s just the peak’s mist.
When Jason and I were riding with the gang, we consumed a lot of time digging stuck snowmobiles out of the powder. Let me rephrase that, we spent a lot of time digging other people’s stuck snowmobiles out of the powder. (Turning my snowmobile upside-down does not count. That was easy to fix and didn’t require superhuman strength.) Some members of our group were more adventurous (i.e. foolish) when it came to taking their snowmobiles places they shouldn’t go. One particularly steep field seized almost every machine. Jason and I had to help push out mobile after mobile, none of which were ours. Boy was it tiring!
The scenes we whizzed through were lovely. They ranged from open meadows, to hills covered with aspens almost as white as the snow, to pine packed knolls.
I can’t say that my day was incident free though. In fact, I definitely get the distinctive prize for the worst accident. You know those nightmares where you’re aware that something awful is about to happen to you but you are powerless to prevent it? Well, I had a real-life bout of that dreadful helplessness. Our group was cruising on the trail probably a tad faster than they should have been. (I prefer to go at a slower and safer speed when traversing wooded areas but some members of our bunch were a little impatient.) I came to a section of the road that angled right and steered my machine accordingly only it didn’t turn right but instead went left. What the what? Despite my forceful attempts to get it to go right, there was just no deterring it from its left bound course. A couple seconds later my opposite-than-planned direction of travel abruptly ended when I hit a tree. Although I’d like to think I braked or at least let off the gas in the middle of this, I’m not entirely sure I did either. It happened too fast and I was too confused about why my snowmobile wouldn’t go the way it was supposed to. A second of puzzlement was long enough for that tree to find me. I doubt you could have done better on a machine that you were not accustomed to driving and that was doing precisely the reverse of what it was intended to do. Besides, it’s unlikely that braking for half a second would have made much of a difference in the outcome of this scenario; snowmobiles don’t stop on a dime unless that dime is the size of a football field.
I was frazzled after my impact but not loopy, at least not loopier than normal.
Even if I couldn’t fix everything in that second or two, I did do one thing brilliantly. When I hit that trunk I held onto my handlebars with a death grip that would have made Darth Vader proud. Since I was going about 25 MPH and was thrown from my seat by the impact, that tight clasp was the only thing that preventing me from smacking the tree myself or being tossed into the woods. I came extremely close to striking the trunk as it was, the group of friends riding in back of me thought I had, but dang if those stubby hands of mine didn’t hold on for all that they’re worth. Thanks to their unexpected strength, I came away from the experience with nothing more than black-and-blue knees, a bump on my head where it collided with my helmet, a little whiplash, sore wrists, and some understandable sketchiness. (Plus, a $165 fee for a bent ski rod.) Thank you little feisty fingers!
Jim’s vehicle was the second one we rescued from powder oblivion.
My hubby, for reasons unknown, really cares about me. He leapt from his snowmobile while it was still moving the moment I collided with that poor aspen. Almost instantly he was at my side checking my pupils and lucidity. (He was convinced that I had gotten a concussion or worse from body slamming that tree, which I hadn’t hit.)
Shortly after I flipped my snowmobile, Fran flipped hers on the same hill.
What caused my snowmobile to suddenly get a rebellious mind of its own? Ice on the skis? Possession? Who knows. The guys at the rental shop did say that the snow conditions were just right for poor control and slow response time. You don’t say. I think I would count spontaneous oppositional travel as a little more than poor control. The mystery remains unsolved.
Jason, as always, was my favorite riding companion.
After our snow play, Jason and I treated everyone to dinner at the Spin Café, a yummy little joint we discovered last time we were in Heber. It was our small way of thanking our hosts. Everyone seemed to enjoy their meal and the housemade gelato was a hit. It sure was a hit with my stomach anyway.
The cabin we stayed at was spacious and comfortable.
More games awaited us when we returned to the cabin with full bellies. We got in a few rounds of Killer Oompi before some of the crew started losing Oompi oomph. Jim, Cindy, Jason, and I were the last ones conscious and playing. Which means no one else got to see Jason as a pony or Jim’s upper thigh revealed. Their loss.
Jason lost a couple rounds of Killer Oompi. For one of his penalties he had to prance around like a pony with Cindy on his back.
It was an amusing weekend. I could have done without the tree incident and I wouldn’t have minded pulling a few less snowmobiles out of powder potholes but such are the hazards of fun. Plus, I guess we freeloaders need to earn our keep somehow. Many thanks to the kind souls that let me and Jason tag along on this winter escape; we would be happy to strain our muscles heaving your hefty snowmobiles from the mire anytime.
The Sundance Film Festival just ended. As usual, Jason and I eagerly added our bodies to the masses of movie aficionados during its 10 day stint. We’ve been attending this world-famous at hand event for almost a decade and we always look forward to its star-strewn madness.
Our enjoyment of Sundance has improved in recent years by going the locals route. Yes, if you’re a Utah resident you can get tickets to the Sundance Film Festival before the general public. How does a native do this one might ask? First, you have to remember to register in October. If you forget to sign up then you’ve lost your chance at passes. Second, you have to wait for your appointed timeslot to purchase your ticket package, not individual tickets mind you but just your ticket package of choice. The chance to buy a package works like a lottery. So far fate has smiled on us and we haven’t been denied this acquisition but there’s a first time for everything. Next, about a month after buying your package, your timeslot for picking individual tickets is revealed. This window is based on another system of chance, you might get lucky and be in the first group to get tickets or less fortunate and be in the last. Either way you can’t complain because, no matter what, you’re choosing your seats before the crowds get a chance. When your ticket opening hits you’d better be fast. Identifying what you want beforehand and having a strategy is paramount or you will be left in others’ box office dust. You never know what will be sold out so you have to be flexible and have lots of backup plans. Jason and I usually draw up a complex ticketing diagram beforehand to aid us in this part. Finally, a couple weeks later, you get to pick up your tickets but only during a designated timeslot. (You getting a feel for how many timeslots are involved in this process?) This must be done at the Salt Lake City Sundance box office with a Utah driver’s license in hand and there is often a wait. This year Jason ended up standing in line for about an hour. But at least at the end of this queue you are, at last, the gratified holder of passes to some exclusive events. Hallelujah! Yes, the locals method is a complicated procedure but it makes getting into popular screenings possible for us nobodies and the nobodies we know. Jason and I are nice; we buy an extra-large ticket package every year so that we have some passes to spread to our friends. Hint to friends: if you want us to continue purchasing tickets for you in the future be grateful that we let you benefit from our toil.
We attended a couple screenings with Drew and Simone. It’s always fun to have some company.
All that ticket commotion happens before Sundance starts. What happens after it begins is also crazy but much more enjoyable. Here’s what transpired for us after the festival commenced this year:
The Crash Reel was the first show we attended and what a way to kick things off. It was a documentary that followed the fall and rise of snowboarder Kevin Pearce. You may recall that Kevin Pearce was an Olympic favorite in the half-pipe for the Vancouver Olympics. He had beaten Shaun White on multiple occasions so it was anyone’s guess who would come away with the gold. Unfortunately, about 2 months before the Olympics Kevin Pearce wrecked while training in Park City and suffered a traumatic brain injury. With a damaged noggin, Kevin’s continuance of competitive snowboarding was unacceptably risky to the loved ones of this talented rider but he found the overwhelming danger harder to acknowledge. Being a snowboarder myself, with injuries that have made riding the slopes impossible at times, I think I can understand to a small degree the devastation that Kevin felt when he realized he’d have to give up boarding.
A whole lot of famous boarders showed up to support The Crash Reel. It was marvelous!
This was a fantastic film that had elements of a cool boarding movie along with touching inspirational moments. It’s supposed to premier on HBO during the summer and I would highly recommend checking it out. As an extra treat we got to meet not only Kevin but Scotty Lago, the American that received the half-pipe bronze medal in Vancouver, and a whole bunch of other amazing snowboarders like Mason Aguirre, Luke Mitrani, Jack Mitrani, and Danny Davis. Lucy Walker, the academy award nominated director, was also present. Wow!
The Summit was a documentary that shed some light on the tragic events that occurred near the peak of K2 in August of 2008. K2, the second highest peak in the world at 28,251 feet, is far more dangerous to climb than Everest. Did you know that 1 in 4 mountaineers that make it to the top of K2 die during their descent? That dwarfs Everest’s 5% and is hard to wrap your mind around. Any hike up K2 is apparently a gamble with death but during this particular disaster, the worst in K2 history, 11 of the 24 climbers that attempted to reach the summit never made it back to camp. As you can imagine, this documentary was intense and disconcerting. It was hard to understand why these climbers would risk so much for an unnecessary achievement. One of the saviors of the catastrophe, a Sherpa named Pemba Gyalje, surprisingly showed up for the Q&A after the show and got a standing ovation. It was a pleasure to be in the presence of this heroic and humble man.
Pemba Gyalje’s unexpected appearance at The Summit‘s Q&A had everyone on their feet.
These first two documentaries really made an impact on me. More than a week later my dreams were still invaded by troubling rides on powder or unsettling climbs up insurmountable mountains. Even now I find myself daydreaming about the images, characters, and music from these films that moved me. I believe movies like these, great movies, linger with you and continue to change your perception of the world long after the credits have rolled.
Computer Chess was an unusual flick that imagined the inner goings of the world of computer programmers in the early 80s, specifically programmers that were trying to teach machines how to play chess. It was quite nerdy and, like many indie films, a bit slow but I enjoyed its randomness and appreciated its geeky humor.
Andrew Bujalski, the director of Computer Chess, was enthusiastic about his creative homage to nerdery.
We Steal Secrets: the Story of WikiLeaks was an insightful and interesting documentary. It portrayed Julian Assange pretty fairly but not favorably. The WikiLeaks organization, on the other hand, it presented as more idealistic and less hypocritical.
The last picture we saw was The Inevitable Defeat of Mister and Pete. This film followed the lives of two project kids as they tried to survive a summer without their junkie parents. While it was told from the perspective of the kids, it was not meant for a young audience; these children faced obstacles that no kid should have to. Yet, it was somehow endearing and sweet while maintaining its harsh reality.
It was another great year for us at the festival. We saw a variety of flicks that made us giggle, gasp, and grieve. Attending Sundance may take work but it’s nothing compared to what goes into putting this festival on. We met the program director for Sundance at one of our screenings and learned that 12,000 film submissions, about 1,500 of which are documentaries, get sent in every year. They all have to be watched in order for the best hundred or so to be selected. Holy movie overload Batman! I’m not sure how you could view that many every year and come away still enjoying films; I’d never want to see another movie in my life. Good thing I get to watch 11,995 less than those programmers. We’ve found that catching 5 Sundance films each year is just about right for us. It’s enough to get the flavor of the festival without getting burnout. See you in 2014 Sundance!
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