splendor in solitude

By 7:45 a.m. Wednesday morning we were still conflicted: Little Cottonwood Canyon was possibly, but not for sure, going to open at 8:30 a.m.; Big Cottonwood Canyon was already open but scheduled to close at 8:30 for a half hour or so for avalanche control; Alta and Snowbird had been closed Tuesday so their snow was completely untracked; Solitude's on-mountain ticket price was $39.  Finally we went with the sure thing: although Solitude had been open for skiing on Tuesday, they still got 40 inches of snow in two days and we knew we could get there and be on the chair at 9:00 a.m.

Even the groomers were great

As we drove up Big Cottonwood Canyon, deputy sheriffs and UT DOT trucks were parked in various strategic places; there were about six cars behind us and I think they closed the canyon right after we all got through. The thermometer read 5 degrees (!!!) when we got to Solitude but the sun was out and strong - bluebird skies - and it certainly didn't feel like 5; it was only 35 when we quit for the day but we'd easily stayed warm with all the work we'd been doing.  The parking lot was full by the end of the day but, again, it was Solitude and the only lift line we waited in was the very first one, waiting for the chairlift to open.

Ripping it up off the Summit chair

Okay, enough of the background - how was the skiing?  The skiing, my friends, was freaking AWESOME.  Although the main part of the resort had been skied the day before, they'd gotten more snow overnight so we were making our own tracks right from the start.  Even the groomed trails were incrediblely soft and laden with snow: H pushed his pole down over three feet into the corduroy. 

Snow, snow, snow in Honeycomb

We didn't waste much time in the morning on groomers, however: at the top of the Powderhorn chair, the rope was already down, allowing folks into the chutes and cliffs that led to the Summit chair.  We followed the traverses in - H going high; I went low - and made our way down through the trees in TONS of snow.  Soft, fluffy, dry and deep.  We stayed on the Summit chair all morning, skiing in the trees (so fabulous and fun!) and keeping an eye on the gates into Honeycomb Canyon.  We could see a couple patrollers setting off avalanche charges out there: they would traverse across, set a charge in the snow, back away and then FLASH!  And then three seconds later, BOOM!!  And the avalanche would shake loose from above the charge and cascade down into the canyon's bowl.

I don't know which is better: the sky or the snow

They finally dropped the rope into Honeycomb at 11:00 a.m. and we were in the first group of 20 or so salivating skiers to work our way across the traverse.  The canyon hadn't been open on Tuesday, you see, so all the snow in there was virgin untracked powder.  We did it twice, claiming glorious freshies, and it was superb; at one point I could hear H giggling out loud as he headed down a fluff-filled chute, snow way up to his chest.  So very excellent.

Self portrait of a happy skier

We had a quick lunch around 1:00 p.m. and then went back out, our legs shaky enough to necessitate staying on the groomers and small, soft bumps for the rest of the day.  I managed another three runs before my legs gave out and H took another four after that, hating to quit on such a great day.  But quit we finally did, and stopped in at the Canyon Inn for a pitcher.  We were gratified to see that although we were beat, we were not nearly so beat as the kid - at least 15 years younger - next to us at the bar who'd gone to Snowbird, and skied for fewer hours than we did.  We are just that badass.  (Of course, we weren't awake much after dinner once we got home.)