Millennium On Longs

January 1^st, 2000

Colorado has 54 recognized peaks that break the 14,000 foot level. Climbing all of these peaks is a cherished prize for many hikers as most are not very technical. I've pursued these summits also, but at a languid pace - preferring to do more technical routes most of the time. For variety and solitude, I've done a number of them in winter. The mountains are a much tougher prospect under the cloak of darkness, snow, and wind. After almost two years without a winter 14er ascent, I planned some assaults.

The prize of the Colorado Front Range is the majestic Longs Peak at 14,250 feet or so. This is by far the most interesting technical mountain in Colorado and its east face offers a wide variety of alpine challenges. I'd already climbed Longs nine times by eight different routes including five ascents of the East Face (three up the sheer Diamond) and a two day winter ascent on the North Face. But I had never done a one day winter ascent and wanted to couple that goal with climbing the East Face in winter. Now I needed some partners...

Winter 14er climbing is not for the faint of heart. It involves suffering to a much greater degree than hiking up in summertime. Luckily, my circle of friends includes much tougher beings than myself and I had some nibbles.

I sent out mail looking for a winter 14er partner to Homie. He responded that he'd be out of town before and after Christmas but was thinking it would be cool to climb Longs on New Year's Day. I jumped at the chance and sent the following Email out to all climbing partners:

Hi Climbers,

Homie and I are thinking of climbing Kieners route on Longs on Jan. 1st. Leaving after our New Year's Eve party. What a cool way to ring in the new millenium! We'll probably clean up the mess at my house and be driving up there by 2 a.m. Hiking at 3 a.m. Of course weather and conditions (and fitness and skill) will determine how far we get, but it might be fun. It will be an ass kicker. Guaranteed!

I'm sending this out to all climbers in case they want to fly in for this once in a lifetime, millenium adventure!

Be forewarned: This is an advanced trip. Don't make this your first winter 14er. Or your second. Kieners is 5.4 in the summer. Also, this will be equivalent, in physical effort. to climbing Longs twice in the summer. So be prepared if you're interested.

Bill

I got only two other partners from my plea: Hardly Manson and Mark Oveson. Mark responded:

Now you're talking!  What could be more enjoyable to kick off the new millenium than freezing my butt off in good style with good companions, on the Best Mountain in Colorado(TM)?

Let me know the details, if any.  I guess I'll try to get a nap on Friday afternoon.

Mark

Doing stuff like this always sounds a lot better in the abstract. Sleep deprivation doesn't seem much of an issue as you type your Email a month away from departure. My wife immediately saw the craziness: "You guys are nuts!" As the date approached, the insanity of this idea started to dawn on me also. I began to hope for bad weather or for someone less worried about looking like a wimp to speak up and call this whole thing off.

I was up in Breckenridge on the 26th and 27th with my family. The weather was incredibly good: no wind, warm, no recent snow. On the way home, I skied up the trail that leads to Grays and Torreys - the two most popular 14ers in Colorado. These mountains are popular because they are easy to access from Denver - lying right off of I-70 just east of the tunnel. They are also easy, Class 2 mountains. In winter, you cannot drive to the trailhead at 11,200 feet, but have to start down at I-70 at 9800 feet. The summit elevations are 14,270 and 14,267 respectively. I was accompanied by my two Labradors, Bonnie and Shasta, and didn't start up the trail until 2:30 p.m. I just wanted to check out conditions. I got to 12,000 feet and found things ideal. I planned an ascent two days later as a test run before Longs Peak.

After working on Tuesday, the 28th, I picked up Homie at 6 a.m. on the 29th and we met Hardly and his friends Dan and Neeraj at the Bakerville exit of I-70. Our plan was to skin up the road and trail as far as we could and then hike the rest of the way. I was impatient at the trailhead, as is my usual manner. I'm always antsy to get going. Hardly and his friends were at the trailhead ten minutes before Homie and I, yet they were ready ten minutes after us. Dan and Neeraj were rookies at the winter 14er game. This would be some foreshadowing on the rest of the day. We started up the trail at 7:40 a.m.

Homie, Hardly, and I immediately left the other two behind without even trying. Clearly there was a big difference in pace. We waited at the summer trailhead for the stragglers and I taped my heels. Hardly would wait for Steve and explain the situation before catching up to Homie and I. This was essential if Hardly wanted to climb the mountains. This didn't leave anyone alone and worked out fine.

Homie and I skied until about 12,500 feet before ditching the skis. I changed into heavier gloves as the winds picked up and the temperature dropped. Shortly afterwards Hardly caught up to us. This was a situation that Homie was dreading slightly as he expected to get dropped once I had a fast companion. Homie had just returned the previous night from a week at sea level and wasn't his normal super strong self. Sure enough, he fell off the back after a bit.

Hardly and I climbed to the saddle between the peaks, missing the normal trail up Grays in the process. No harm done since this allowed us to drop our packs at the saddle (about 600 feet below both summits) and hike up to each unencumbered. We made Grays' summit at 11:30 a.m. It was windy and we didn't linger. On our way down we met Homie coming up. Hardly and I crossed over and bagged Torreys before noon and were quickly down at the saddle seeing Homie once again. We told Homie we'd drop down out of the wind and wait for him.

We dropped a hundred feet of so off the saddle and ate some lunch. We watched two figures working their way up the regular Grays trail and hoped they weren't Dan and Neeraj. We saw two others lower on our route, but they seemed too low to be our companions, but it was them. After 30 minutes, I headed down further in order to warm up. I talked with Neeraj who said his feet were numb. I tried to convince him to either turn around or stop and warm up his feet with the chemical heaters I was carrying. Eventually Hardly joined us having successfully convinced Dan to turn around also. They had more than an hour of climbing to reach their first summit. If they had continued they would probably have to descend in the dark. At this time Homie caught up with us and we all started down together. Soon Homie and I were far ahead as Hardly helped the others down.

Once we reached the skis, the drudgery was over and the exciting descent began. Skiing the narrow trail down to the road was exciting and I kept my skins on for additional braking power. At the summer trailhead we pulled off skins and cruised the three miles and 1500 vertical back down to the car. The roundtrip had taken us exactly seven hours. It involved about 15 miles of skiing/hiking and 5000 feet of elevation gain (including both summits).

I headed on to Breckenridge  because I had plans for the next day on Vail Pass. I met 12 other skiers there to do the Shrine Pass ski tour. This 13 mile tour starts at Vail Pass and finished in Redcliff. The weather was absolutely perfect and we all had a great time. We finished it off with a big Mexican meal in Redcliff before shuttling back to Vail Pass.

The next day I came down and prepared for our fifth annual New Year's Eve party. Longs now hung directly over my head. Would someone come to their senses soon and call off this madness?

We had 30-40 people at our party that night and it was great to see so many good friends. Sheri schooled everyone in the art of ping pong and humiliated her husband in front of a large group by a score of 21-5. We never got around to slides this year as I wasn't organized and no one else brought any. We had 19 people that made to midnight - a new record. By 1 a.m. we could delay no longer. What was the plan? Since it wasn't light until 7 a.m. we decided to leave at 2:30 a.m. so that we could be hiking by 4 a.m.

Mark took his family and went home to get ready. He had a nap earlier in the day, but he wouldn't get any more sleep. Hardly and Homie were pretty much ready and retired to my basement to sleep for an hour. I still had to get my gear organized and packed up. I finally went to bed at 1:30 a.m. with my alarm set for 2:20 a.m. As I laid in bed I told myself to go to sleep real fast to maximize my sleep time. Of course, this didn't work, but I was definitely asleep when the alarm went off. My wife had to prod me three times before I got out of bed. She wasn't too pleased with waking up at that time either, but at least she didn't have to go hiking in the dark.

We boiled water for our insulated water bottles. This makes the water warm for 2-3 hours, but by the end of the day it's slush. Mark was a bit late getting to my house and he still wasn't ready. At the trailhead we waited for him to fix some pack problems. Hardly had started up the trail in an attempt to shake some nausea he got on the winding ride up. I tried to drive slow and smooth but apparently wasn't successful enough. Mark isn't allowed to drive up here anymore since he drives so fast that everyone becomes nauseous. I wouldn't see Hardly again until the Chasm Lake trail junction more than three miles away.

The initial hiking is always the worst part of the day. That and getting up so ridiculously early. Hiking in the dark, in the winter isn't very fun. You're working hard since you're heading up hill and carrying a pack, but since it is still nighttime it is pretty cold. Plus you got the wind to contend with. Getting the clothing just right so that you aren't sweating too much or too cold is a frustrating challenge. And it is so dark. I don't enjoy it much.

Mark and I were in our "12 hour pace" and when I stopped to shed some clothes, Homie walked off into the inky blackness. Mark and I talked about chess on the way up. I never really played chess and feel that maybe I should. Smart people are supposed to play chess it seems. Maybe I'm hoping that if I play chess I'll become smarter. But the fear of looking stupid is great.

A solo hiker passed us and then our friends Mike and Lisel also passed us. I'm not used to being passed by so many people. Mike and Lisel were just out for a New Millenium hike. Heck, they'd be back at the car before sunrise. Now that's crazy!

We each carried crampons, a headlamp, a helmet, two ice tools and two liters of water. We had two racks and two 50m 9mm ropes split amongst us. Other than that all we needed was some food, extra clothes. I think we all carried down jackets, but never stopped long enough to use them. Our rack consisted of Camalots to #2, the green, yellow, and red Aliens, a set of stoppers, a piton, two ice screws, and six slings. The piton and ice screws were not used.

We regrouped at the trail junction and after drinking some and eating half an energy bar, we were off again - headed towards Chasm Lake and the East Face of Longs. We were the first people to do this in the new millenium.

Hardly was still quite uncomfortable and was having his doubts on this climb, but he kept mostly quiet as is his style. We climbed up to Chasm Lake on some steep snow and rock scrambling. Here we meet the only advantage of climbing Longs in winter. Normally the traverse around Chasm Lake is a pain in the ass as steep, loose talus drops directly into the lake. But in the winter we could just walk straight across its frozen surface. There was almost no snow on the lake and the ice was quite smooth. We could have easily played a great game of hockey up here.

The ice on the lake was completely bare and we had to put on crampons to avoid falling down. We took this opportunity to put on helmets and harnesses also. I brought my ski helmet and it worked out great. These helmets are much warmer and more form fitting than a climbing helmet. I put some hand warmers in my gloves at this point and they kept my hands warm all day. I think using the proper gear for these adventures is absolutely essential. With the right equipment you can stay warm and dry (in most conditions) and that makes enjoyment so much easier.

On the far side of the lake, we started up the long steep snow slope which merges imperceptibly into Lambs slide. We were all surprised to see so much water ice on Lambs Slide. The entire upper section is a huge bowl of ice. We zigged and zagged up Lambs Slide and were able to stay entirely on reasonably firm snow. I was the only one who had brought ski poles. I used them to help stabilize myself on loose talus since I'm still recovering from a perpetually (it seems) sprained ankle. I used the poles almost completely up Lambs Slide. This isn't very wise since a fall would have dire consequences, but I was very solid. Just before exiting Lambs Slide onto Broadway, the ledge that cuts completely across the East Face, I asked Hardly to pull one of my axes off my pack.

We roped up at the start of Broadway and ate and drank some more. I asked the group, "Anyone have any preferences on the climbing pairings?" Homie immediately responded, "My only request is that you and Hardly don't form a team." We knew the climbing above would be very challenging and Hardly and I were by far the more experienced climbers on this type of terrain so I took Homie's suggestion as a given. The climbing would now become more technical and not as aerobic. I offered to climb with Mark and the teams were set. It was 8:30 a.m. and we were at 13,000 feet. I said, "It would be nice to be on top by 11:30. We only have to climb 400 vertical feet an hour to make that happen." At the time I think Mark or Homie thought this was an incredibly slow pace. Hardly thought it was very aggressive. He was right.

I put in a single bomber cam as a belay and set out across Broadway. The climbing here is easy except for a few isolated sections were we maneuvered around extremely exposed corners. We had come up Lambs Slide which angles right to left across the lower East Face. Now we traversed straight back to the right above the 1000 foot cliff known as the Diagonal. The position is outrageous and we all lamented the lack of cameras. We knew the climb itself was going to be so tough that we didn't think we take the time for many photos, but this section was worth it!

I led out all the rope and Mark and I simul-climbed for a hundred more feet. Hardly followed behind Mark. I was nearly at the Notch Couloir when I set up a belay from a good stopper. Multiple pieces for anchors on this route would be a rarity as the gear, while frequently enough, is not very plentiful. I clipped a number of fixed pins while traversing Broadway. Homie would later inadvertently clean one while trying to unclip the sling. Not exactly bomber pins.

Mark led on through and across the Notch Couloir to the start of Kiener's Route. Hardly led straight across Broadway to where I knew some shiny bolt anchors were located. Unfortunately this forced him to climb the fifty feet off the ledge and this proved to be the toughest climbing of the day. Mark did a fine job finding the easiest possible start to Kiener's and he set up a belay.

Mark:

At this point I realized I was sleepy.  I had to keep shaking my head to clear it, each time taking a few deep breaths to get the oxygen flowing. It was the same spooky feeling you get when you are driving and realize you are too tired to keep going.  If you get tired driving, though, you can just pull over and rest.  Here, there was no place to pull over--falling asleep would probably have meant freezing to death.

Bill:

It had started to snow while crossing Broadway and it would continue snowing the entire way up the face, albeit lightly. But my spirits were high with our quick progress despite taking an hour to traverse Broadway and only gain 200 vertical feet. I started up the steep block terrain and found the going easy until short, vertical chimney section. There was a perfect hand jam for my right hand, but I couldn't complete the move out of the chimney via that hold because it was too awkwardly placed off to the right. I thought I would fall, but eventually got my crampons to catch while I mantled over the top. I was wasted and out of breath, but the going above was relatively easy. After 140 feet I set up a belay from a couple of cams.

Mark followed and struggled as much as I did with the crux move below. Mark eventually pulled the move and worked his way up the steep snow above to my belay. Hardly had climbed up to just below the crux move on our first pitch and set up a belay. Homie told me later that after he watched Hardly struggle so hard on the first pitch that he resolved to pull on gear early rather than later in an effort to move quickly and conserve strength. Homie was giving this route his full respect.

Mark:

This was my first time climbing 5th class rock in crampons, and what an eye-opener! I had previously led through all this terrain in August a few years earlier, and the feeling I remember having was that I could probably have soloed it.  Now I scrambled up the same terrain in desperate fashion, hoping my gloves or ice axe would be able to cling to holds that had previously seemed like buckets.

Bill:

The second pitch started by heading directly right up a short steep gully. I optimistically hoped this thirty foot gully would lead to easy ground. I was wrong. After a difficult entry move, the gully was easy but it emptied out onto steep slabs with vertical steps. I could detect an earlier passage (two guys from Neptune Mountaineering had climbed it on the 29th or so) but after following that route it came to a very hard move over a bulge. Above the ground looked hard. Lower down I had noticed a snow ramp that led further right and I retreated to this ramp, hoping again it led to easy ground.

Once again I was disappointed, but a reasonable route diagonaled up and back left across slabs and steps. The climbing here involved trying to find purchase for the crampons on the steep slabs, digging for cracks under the snow cover, and difficult steep sections. I put in pro whenever I could - about twenty feet apart. Turning a corner and in a steep, left facing dihedral with no protection, I ran out of rope. I yelled for more rope and when I didn't get it, I started cussing. Things were a bit desperate and I wanted Mark to know the situation and get his ass moving. At the other end of the rope, Mark was slow to respond. Finally he was able to move upwards and soon I had a sling around a chockstone and a belay.

Mark moved very slowly up this pitch. He paused a long time to figure out the moves and then even longer to recovery his breath after completing them. When he reached the belay, we quickly re-racked and I moved off. Belaying was the only time I started to freeze. Standing in the snow and the wind quickly drained my heat and it was frustrating, but necessary as the climbing was quite difficult. Above was steep snow and then a squeeze chimney leading to a slab. Once again, I hoped the climbing eased above. Earlier I had predicted about three hard pitches of climbing and this was our third. If our pace didn't pick up soon, we'd be climbing through the night.

I moved laboriously up the snow and into the chimney. Fifteen feet up I got in a piece and attempted to extricate myself from the chimney and out onto the slab on the right. This proved extremely difficult. I tried in vain to wedge my axe across the slot so that I could pull on it. Every position I tried pulled out. Every other member of our party would successfully use this technique. Mark would even rig a sling to the axe and step in it!

Finally I gave up on the axe technique and holstered it. I resorted to offwidth technique in my Gortex suit. Two armlocks later, I could swing my right foot out onto the slab and stemming against the chimney with my left foot, push myself out onto the slab. Mark yelled up encouragement: "Jeff Lowe's got nothing on you!" Above the climbing did indeed ease and soon I was postholing up very steep snow to a rock outcropping where I set up a belay.

Mark:

I was worried when I saw Bill struggle with a couple of moves out of the back of a squeeze chimney.  He eventually climbed it, then called down, "I hope there's an easier way past that move."  There wasn't.  I worked past this section by wedging my axe in the back of the chimney, rigging a loop from the leash, and using the loop as a foothold to heave my exhausted body onto easier ground.

Bill:

Mark took forever to do the chimney move. I knew it was hard and that he might not be able to do it. After a long time I asked if he was coming up or not. Still no movement. I almost yelled down for Hardly to climb up there and give him a boost. There was no way I could lower him a rope because of all the snow above. Just before I made this request there was movement. I was stamping my feet and swinging my hands to keep the blood flowing all through this ordeal. When Mark got to the belay, with Hardly right on his heels, he had to eat. None of us had eaten enough because it was such a hassle. This involved taking off your pack, digging out frozen food which was hard to eat. It was so much effort and he had little time to spare. Nevertheless, Mark had to eat and drink or we'd need a helicopter to get him off this mountain. I had a swallow or two and a bite of Hardly's sandwich. We were already talking about foregoing the summit. We needed to get off the East Face and this entailed going over the Diamond and down the North Face. This would take us within 250 vertical feet of the summit, but at this point, I didn't think Mark would make it.

We had 700-800 vertical feet to go and it would involve very tiring postholing. It was noon. I thought we had to start down by 2 p.m. and thought it would be very close. I led up the snow, sinking into my knees with every step. When Mark had looked at the terrain above he said, "Un-rope from here?" I thought for just a moment about this before categorically rejecting it. The climbing was still steep and Mark wasn't that solid. I didn't think he'd be safe on this ground. We simul-climbed this section and it proved the right decision. While the next 400 vertical feet were mostly just steep snow there were a couple of short tricky sections. Further up, the climbing was steep, rocky steps and dicey climbing.

As I started up this section, we all knew it was going to be exhausting. Hardly cautioned me not to waste myself here and offered to take over the lead when I got tired. Tired I did get, but Hardly was 150 feet down and I really wanted to keep moving. If we didn't continually move we'd never make the summit by 2 p.m. I kept in the lead all the way up to and past the notorious step-around move that many people miss, including Hardly on his one and only previous time on this section (after climbing the Diamond this past summer with the Loobster).

Mark:

Bill's step-kicking here was key.  He was driven to make the summit, and he had incredible energy left to do it.  I followed the steps, still roped together and simul-climbing, struggling to keep up with the pace he was setting.

Bill:

Hardly had passed Mark and was leading up alongside my rope. I put in a belay and belayed Mark up the last 150 feet. Hardly soon arrived and did the same for Homie. Eventually, we were all together again. The climbing above was just 3rd class scrambling with no chance of a long fall so we packed up the ropes and the rack and soloed on.

This upper 250 vertical feet was very tiring. I stumbled near the summit and put a hole in my gaiters. Clearly I was getting tired and clumsy. I stepped on the summit at 1:45 p.m. with Hardly close behind. Homie was five minutes back and Mark even further. Mark was bonking badly, but we wouldn't notice the full extent of this until twenty minutes later when his brain seemed to forget how to climb down 3rd class terrain on the North Face.

Homie signed us into the new summit register which was placed on top early that day by the Longs Peak ranger and Bill Briggs. We weren't the first ones to climb Longs this millenium, but we were the first to climb the East Face. Judging from the lack of tracks down the North Face, these two must have ascended the regular Keyhole Route.

Once on top, Hardly and I started down to stay warm and get out of the wind. We passed Homie and Mark on the way down but went really slow that we could be together on the descent. Hardly went on ahead to find the rap anchors and I stayed with eyesight of Homie. At one point, I yelled to Homie, "Do you see Mark?" He responded negatively and we waited and yelled up to Mark. Eventually we spotted Mark and told him to work down and left to join us. Many minutes passed without Mark moving. He asked, "How do I get down there?" "DOWN AND LEFT," I emphatically yelled, trying to wake-up his mind. He seemed completely stumped by short steep sections which were easily circumvented by moving a few feet right or left.

Mark:

At this point I was starting to wonder why everyone else was moving so fast down the North Face.  I couldn't make my legs move fast enough to keep up, and my brain couldn't find a good line through the steep talus, which is interspersed with slabs and small cliffs.

Bill:

Homie guided Mark down to the first eye-bolt rappel anchor. Hardly and I had downclimbed this easy section to the second eye-bolt, but we felt in Mark's condition that not only wasn't it safe, but that it would take him too long. Homie set up a single rope rappel and came down to us. Mark took forever setting up his rappel and when he got down to me, I could see he was in big trouble. Looking in his eyes I could see that no one was home. Absolutely no life or caring or alacrity there. His mouth hung open and his movements slow and clumsy.

Hardly and I setup the double rope rappel which would get us down and Hardly went first. I told Hardly that Mark would be next and to immediately start him down the tricky 4th class terrain below. Hardly had to shepherd Mark down to easy terrain and to keep him moving. Once Hardly was down, I helped Mark setup his rappel and sent him off.

Mark:

By the time I made it to the top of the rappels, several minutes behind everyone else, I had completely bonked.  My eyes were glazed and I wasn't thinking sharply.  I was beginning to wonder about rescue helicopters. Everyone waited for me and then Tom took me under his wing to get me down the rappels and the 4th class terrain down to Chasm View.

Bill:

Homie and I followed on the rappels and coiled the ropes. Mark had previously carried the rope but that was over. We'd lighten his load from now on and should have done it earlier. After drinking some more, Homie and I followed a snowfield down as far as possible before stripping off our crampons and continuing down the talus and boulders. Homie was going strong and was actually quite elated. He had completed his hardest, most committing adventure and "never felt scared."

Once we re-grouped at the Boulder Field Campground Mark was doing a lot better. We had taken some of his weight and he was now able to keep up a reasonable pace. All the technical stuff was behind us and we just had a five mile slog out of here. It would be all we could do to get down. Hiking across this section Homie says he'll never do that climb again in winter. I say, "That's just what you say now. If you are a true climber, you'll forget all this misery in about two weeks. A year at most." One of the best qualities an alpinist can possess is a short memory for misery.

We stopped for a break at the Chasm Lake trail junction having completed our loop of the East Face/North Face. We had 3+ miles to go and I was tired. My back and shoulders were particularly complaining and Hardly offered to take the rope I was carrying. I felt like a wimp, but he talked me out of it anyway. Thanks, Hardly.

We got back to the car at 5:47 p.m. The trip took 13:37 car-to-car. While the distance (about 15 miles) and vertical gain (about 5000 feet) were almost exactly the same as the Grays/Torreys trip, this trip had taken twice as long, was four times as hard, and ten times as committing. If things go bad after the first couple pitches of Kiener's, then the easiest way off is up. Either way, you are a LONG way from safety. People have died in that exact location - unable to climb up or down.

Mark:

Regarding this, see the front cover of "Accidents in North American Mountaineering", for the year 1994 or 1995.  You'll see a picture of a helicopter hauling a body of a climber off the mountain after he and his partner failed to find their way through the last portion of Kieners during a September ascent.

Bill:

We signed out at the voluntary climb registration which is located at the trailhead. We felt like tough alpine climbers until we checked Bill Briggs time. He had started at 5 a.m. - almost an hour after us, and got back down by noon! We were still a long ways from the summit at that time. Briggs used to own the speed record for climbing Longs. We knew we weren't in that league. Nevertheless, it was quite an adventure for us and one we were all glad to have behind us.

I got home by 7:30 p.m. and after eating some dinner (I had only a few bites of Hardly's sandwich and half an energy bar all day), Sheri tells me she needs to run four more miles on the treadmill and can I watch the kids. "Sure," I say. Thirty minutes later, Sheri comes up from the basement to find the kids playing happily in the room and me out like a light on the couch. She wakes me up and sends me to bed. I didn't argue.

Mark:

This was one of the physically hardest days I've completed, and that includes the Pikes Peak Marathon (26 miles and 7800 vertical feet) and my summit day on Aconcagua (4600 vertical feet starting at 18,200 and ending at 22,800). By the end of this day, my calves were bruised from the liners of my plastic boots, my left heel was sore from a rock that had lived between the liner and shell of my left boot for the entire hike, and my pee was the color of concentrated orange juice.  This was a day I will remember for a long time, and whenever anyone asks how I celebrated the new year, I have a real story to tell.