The Season

"The LIst is this ongoing process in my head," says climber Craig DeMartino. Each season, his mind wanders over past climbs. They bubble to the surface and Craig makes it a point to go out and repeat them, but over the years a funny thing happened. The List became less about looking backward then as a means for looking forward. Craig climbs as hard, if not harder than he did before his accident and amputation, so it would only make sense that he would add new, more challenging routes to The List. For traditional climbers, El Capitan is near the top of every tick list.

“It’s sort of a cliché, but there is this fishing joke that says – there is only one other sensation that can compare,” says Ryan Peterson. “I’ll leave it at that.” After days without landing a fish and living on the river, our fishing lives are as active as e local night life. The gang starts to wonder if landing one of these ghost run steelheads will ever happen. Everywhere there are signs of the fish, but when it comes to taking a fly, they remain elusive. We follow one California’s wildest rivers down to the mouth and back again.

In 2010, Greg Hill achieved the unthinkable. He ski toured two million vertical feet. He'd spent the prior decade prior shaping his body into a powder slaying weapon, sharpening his understanding of British Columbia's sometimes dangerous snow pack and refining his mountain sense in order to travel safely, even on days when the avalanche danger crept into the red. Or as Greg puts it, "I used to be a mountain boy, but now I can grow a pretty decent mustache and I think of myself as a mountain man." When he crossed the mark on the final day of 2010, everyone was curious– what's next? Three million? Maybe not, but Greg has a few ideas.

Craig DeMartino barely survived his 100 foot fall. After three months in the ER, critical care and rehabilitation centers, he was able to return home to his family and something that resembled his life before the accident. His frail body made living difficult and a rare nerve disorder brought on by the trauma only worsened the situation. Craig was faced with a decision. His right foot would never heal. He would never chase his kids across the backyard or climb again. But there was an option -- amputation. It was a risk, but it seemed no foot might be better than a bad foot. Craig thought long and hard. In an attempt to get his life back, Craig decided he would rather be an amputee than spend the rest of his life regretting.

The Ghost Run exists. Top Dog proved it. The pictures taped to wall of the Salmon River Outpost are worth a thousand words. With the rising water from recent snow and rain, the fish are moving up river and Ryan goes to work floating and fishing the Klamath River and its tributaries. It's said that steelhead are the fish of a thousand casts, but on a river that has felt the hand of man so powerfully -- through dams, agriculture and overfishing -- it might just take a few more casts.

After Cedar was born, Thomasina moved back home and tried to make a go of settling down. Newfoundland provided a sense of home. It was a place where store owners knew locals' names and people helped one another. She managed it for a few months, but after a while the nomadic climber in her needed to leave. For Thomasina, the only thing that could rival the Newfoundland community was the climbing community.

We've got a ghost story for you. The Klamath River, running through the rugged Northern California mountains, used to hold the fourth largest population of salmon and steelhead in the world. Every year millions of fish would surge up stream. Now, over fishing, agriculture, and bad politics have taken their toll, and the once great runs are not only diminished, they are mostly gone. To many fly fisherman, the Klamath might as well be dead. But angler Ryan Peterson has heard rumors that during the winter, a run of massive steelhead creep upstream unnoticed. Is it a good yarn or is it real? This season Ryan wants to find out. The search for the ghost run begins.

Jeremy and Kevin have spent the whole summer digging, building, riding and then refining the trails through the Burn. It's consumed the summer months and headed right into fall. Linking up the series of gaps, rock drops and step downs has come with its share of near season ending crashes, and a true complete descent has remained elusive. Neither one of them wants to spend the winter thinking about their lines in the Burn. It's time to move on.

In 2002, Craig DeMartino's life should have ended. Craig took a 100-foot ground fall after a miscommunication with his climbing partner. The accident left Craig in a wheelchair and a slew of medical problems. Thankful to be alive, Craig still struggled to redefine himself after the accident. His lifestyle had changed forever. He struggled to play with his kids. The outdoors were no longer a part of his life. After being diagnosed with a neurological condition, Craig reached a turning point. He could amputate his slow-healing foot to stem his nerve condition and gamble that he could get his life back or he could stick with the obvious outcome -- stay in a wheelchair and grapple with pain for the rest of his life.

Spring rains and warmer temps in the south signal Thomasina Pidgeon's annual return to Squamish. For the last decade, the collection of granite eggs stacked beneath the Chief's looming walls have been a touchstone. Each year welcomes a variety of attempts, new discoveries and sends. Tall and proud, The Method is one of Squamish's most difficult boulder problems. It's incredible how 12 feet of stone can define a season. But the conditions can be difficult-- exposed to the sun, the micro crimps and delicate foot smears are next to impossible. It's a finicky creature.