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.)

heed your local sheriff

The mountains here are continuing to get pounded with snow.  Snowbird's newest advertising slogan is 7 FEET IN 7 DAYS! - which is quite catchy, I think.  Alta has gotten 30 inches in the last 24 hours, which sort of boggles the mind. 

Unfortunately, all that fabulous snow is currently inaccessible to those of us who are valley-bound: the road up Little Cottonwood Canyon has been closed all day and was possibly going to open later this evening, per the Salt Lake County Sheriff's email blast that H gets, and Alta's ski resort itself wasn't going to open at all until tomorrow morning.

It seems like there may have been some dissatisfaction among the hoi polloi with that announcement because H also got this email from the sheriff, some time later:

When the chance of an avalanche is likely and the Alta Marshal deems the area unsafe, The Town of Alta goes into an interlodge alert. This is when all occupants must go inside a building and stay there until the area is determined to be safe again. Sometimes this takes minutes and sometimes, during extreme storm cycles, it can take days. The important thing to remember here is to never ignore an interlodge warning or sign. This could endanger not only your own life, but the lives of others as well. The price of any inconvenience you may suffer is small compared to the public's safety so please cooperate with the official efforts.

Did you catch that?  The whole town has to go inside and stay inside until the avalanche danger is over.  That's wild! 

karma = seventh chair

Despite being shut out of Friday's powder day, H and I kept our hopes and spirits up and, as planned, returned to Alta on Easter Sunday.  This was absolutely the right thing to do: they'd gotten more snow both Friday and Saturday nights; the "mostly cloudy" forecast turned out to be "sunny in the morning and then slowly clouding over after lunch;" and there was no one there.  Thank you, Easter Bunny!

So Much Snow

As the crowd grew at the main lift (Collins), we sidled over to the smaller, slower and less well-attended Wildcat double, managing to snag the seventh chair.  The snow looked GORGEOUS and we were practically drooling when we got off at the top, and then cruised back down in powder over our knees.  Our first three runs were in untracked snow - so soft and so deep that it splashed up into my face as I turned. 

Knee-deep in the Ballroom

The avalanche guns were going off all morning, but that's a good thing: when they're done blasting the potential avalanches, then we get to ski in the deep stuff.  And sure enough, we timed it just right to be at the access gates when they dropped the rope into the Ballroom.  Again, traversing across and then dropping into the bowl, powder well over our knees - fabulous.  We quickly learned why so many people wear neon orange straps on their skis too: H went ass over teakettle and lost a ski twice, and we had to stomp around, poking at the snow to find it.  When you wear those tethers, you don't lose your skis.  We'll be buying those tethers soon.

Starting to get sticky, but still plenty soft

After lunch the south-facing slopes started to get heavier and a little sticky (although still super-soft), so we headed over to the Supreme lift and skied Catherine's Area.  We had skied over there with Will, Chris and Judy when the Easterners were in town and it was a little sketchy then - steep, narrow chutes with stumps poking through the thin cover.  The chutes are still steep and narrow but there were no thin spots this time; I was hitting clumps of snow up to my chest on occasion.  Just glorious.

Nearly 200 people were in line for the Devil's Castle traverse

I lost track of how many times I fell but the struggles to pull myself back up out of all that deep snow finally took their toll - it's hard work digging yourself out - and, exhausted, we called it quits a little before 3:00 p.m.  The clouds had moved in by then anyway and the light was getting flat, so we took off our boots and enjoyed a can of PBR each ($2.50 - bargain!) on the patio before heading back down the canyon for home.  It was early to bed for us both.

Today both H and I are sort of limping around, stiff and sore but greedy for more.  Alta has had 4 feet of snow in the last five days and it's snowing again right now: the canyons are supposed to get 18-30 inches between now and Tuesday night.  The folks who like to garden and golf are complaining but not us - the end of ski season is sadly in sight and we'll take all that we can get until then.

not exactly what we had in mind

What with the recent new 17+ inches at Alta, and both our bosses encouraging us to take the day off to go skiing, we could hardly say no.  Still, we hedged our bets, wishing for a bluebird day, and didn't commit 100% to going until the alarm went off this morning.  The clouds were latched onto the canyons but the rest of the valley was clear and blue, so off we went. 

We were not the only ones with this idea.  The drive to Alta usually takes us 20 minutes from our house to the parking lot (if we've remembered to buy our discounted tickets ahead of time); today it took us 55 minutes, partly because we had to drive over to the Lift House (by the Porcupine!) for the tickets and partly because there was a whole lot of traffic heading up Little Cottonwood Canyon - at one point, Wasatch Boulevard was backed up all the way to Bengal Boulevard.  (I realize that means absolutely nothing to most of you reading this.  Trust me when I say: lots and lots of cars.)

When we pulled into Alta, the line for the chairlift was already HUGE.  This didn't faze us much, however, figuring we'd take our time putting on our boots and then once the lift opened at 9:15 a.m., we'd go out after the initial crowd thinned.  We got into line, everyone around us laughing and smiling at the parting clouds, H fretting because other people were tracking up his nice mountain.

And then at 9:30 a.m. the lift stopped.

Turns out the power station for the entire town of Alta went down, which is not what you want to hear when you're standing in the lift line.  Although it's better than hearing it when you're stuck halfway up a chairlift, I suppose.  They cranked up a generator and got the slow little Wildcat double chair turning and then stopped that too after a while.  We waited and waited and waited until 10:30 when an Alta employee told the assembled skiers that it would be at least an hour, maybe two, before the power was restored.  I looked at H, H looked at me, and we decided to make a break for Solitude.

You see, Solitude just lowered its ticket prices to $39 and when we were over at the Lift House, at the base of Big Cottonwood Canyon (the road to Solitude), we briefly considered going there instead, before deciding that a day like today deserved Alta.  Boy, are we dumb - because if we'd acted on that initial impulse, we would have had front row parking and untracked powder.  Instead, by the time we got up to Solitude (still wearing our helmets and ski boots), the trails were all tracked out, the parking lot was completely full and it looked like the people parked on the access road were probably going to be ticketed - if not towed - by the end of the day.

So we gave up, went home and I went for a hilly run instead.  We've still got our unused Alta tickets - I am SO grateful that we didn't get to take a run before the power went out because then we would have wasted a lift ticket (as opposed to just wasting a vacation day) - and there's more snow in the forecast.  The new plan: Alta for Easter.

springtime snowshoeing

Aspens, sunshine and snow in Park City

On Sunday we made the trek to Park City to reconnect with Captain Mike whom we hadn't seen since around Thanksgiving. It was a gorgeous day and he'd offered to take us out on snowshoes. Since it's been so sunny lately and with no new snow to speak of, we had to find a trail that was mostly on northern-exposure slopes, so we ended up doing that hike up through the Silver King mining operations that he'd taken us on this fall. Despite the terrain being somewhat familiar, it all looks a whole lot different with several feet of snow covering everything.

Action shot!

It was a great excursion with plenty of snow and sun. On some of the uphill slopes I found myself panting like I was during some of our Alta traverses - even with the running and skiing I've been doing, snowshoeing apparently uses some different muscles. H struggled with his equipment some, having to keep adjusting the straps of his s'shoes and sliding sideways on the angled traverses; and I wished I'd taken the time to dig my gaiters out of whatever box they're in. It was a lesson learned: when Captain Mike offers you the use of his equipment, take it. He knows whereof he speaks.

Taking a break just above the Silver King mine (PC lifts in the background)

end of an era

Despite the Friday night snowfall in the canyons, H and I had to bite the bullet and deal with something that we'd been putting off, because we could put it off no longer: we had to go finish cleaning out the apartment. There wasn't much left to do, really, just pick up a few odd ends like the crockpot, a fire extinguisher and a bunch of lift tickets from early season ski days, as well as scrub down the kitchen and bathroom and run the vacuum one more time. It didn't take us long.

It was kind of sad, actually, although we were only there for 4+ months: it was a great apartment and our first Utah home and the view west out across the valley was magnificent. Still, it was time to say goodbye and hope the next tenants like the place as much as we did.

Since we were already out and about, we decided to take a quick drive south to scout the route for a bike ride H has had his eye on. There's a high ridge where the Wasatch mountains come westwards a bit and taper down to "Point of the Mountain." H's plan is to ride up and over the ridge, down to Lehi on the south side, and then ride around the PotM and back home. Plus, we'd seen houses up atop the ridge and figured their view of the Salt Lake valley must be pretty good.

Pretty good? Try spectacular. These homes (McMansions, most of them), located in Draper, have an amazing view looking north, encompassing the line of the Wasatch front, the northern mountains up by Ogden, Antelope Island and the Great Salt Lake, the Oquirrhs off to the west and the entire, glittering valley in the middle. And just on top of the ridge, those houses have an incredible view, down into the Utah Valley, and Utah Lake, and the mountains reaching to the south.

Also, that ridge is really, really steep. H thinks he can manage to ride up it - he did ride his bike up Mt. Washington and all - but the descent could be a little fast.

eastern skiers' last stand

Andrea and Chris had booked the red-eye flight home this past Monday so they could get one more day of skiing in.  I got up and went to work and thus missed all the morning's drama:  the boys were ALL tormented as to whether to ski or not.  They were achy, tired and sore, and when they dragged themselves out of bed, they spent about an hour checking the weather channel on the television, the online snow reports and staring out the window at the skies over the canyons.  Andrea, however, played it cool, saying that she didn't care if they skied or not - but if not, she'd like to go out to Antelope Island - and as soon as that masterful bit of reverse-psychology was offered up, H and Chris decided they'd all better go to Solitude.

Chris's legs must hurt too much to smile

Andrea reported that although it wasn't a day where they were flying up and down the mountain, they did do pretty much nothing but bumps trails all day.  Since there hadn't been any new snow to speak of, they gave up on Honeycomb Canyon after one toothy run.  They managed a full day of skiing and when I rejoined them at home at 5:00 p.m., they were enjoying an apres-beer, all leaning up against the kitchen island since if they sat down, they'd likely fall asleep.

Our guests got cleaned up and packed, and we went to the Porcupine for dinner (Southwestern salads for Andrea and me, chile verde burrito for H, and some kind of chicken sandwich for Chris) before dropping them off at the airport.  I hoped that they'd be tired enough that sleep would be a possibility - red-eyes are just brutal.

And, of course, that night it started snowing and Alta got another seven inches.  They'll just have to come back again next year.

"don’t tell anyone you skied at snowbasin”

Most of the Easterners left for home Sunday so it was just H, me, Chris and Andrea heading to Snowbasin (after marvelous ham and egg and cheese sandwiches for breakfast – thanks, Chris!). Snowbasin is about an hour or so drive from our house, plus doesn’t usually get as much snow as the places in the Cottonwoods, so we won’t be looking into season passes there. But we still wanted to check it out. H was curious to see what an Olympic Downhill course looks like – just how steep could it possibly be? - plus people had repeatedly told me that Snowbasin “has the best food” of all the resorts (always a bonus).

In Sister's Bowl, view to the east

We were completely unprepared for what we found. When we walked into the base lodge, our jaws dropped. Massive timbers, gorgeous burled wood coffered ceilings, enormous chandeliers, granite-inlaid wooden tables, giant stone fireplaces, leather couches and fancy carpeting … in the base lodge. The bathrooms were marble tiled; the individual stalls had wooden doors. It was as though we’d walked into a swanky hotel, except that everyone in this hotel was wearing ski boots. And it wasn’t just the base lodge: the two mid-mountains lodges were exactly the same. It was absolutely amazing – I’ve never seen anything like it.  Of course, I have no pictures so you'll just have to go here and here to take a look.

Something else we’d never seen before: at the end of the day, the detachable gondola cars were switched from the regular lift and stored for the night in an underground gondola car garage. Our jaws dropped then too when we realized what was happening. I tell you what, I’d like to see that garage. A friendly season passholder told us that the resort owner put $130 million of his own money into the resort when the Olympics were coming, some for the lifts, some for the lodges. But he refused to build lodging so Snowbasin is a day-trip mountain only - and the locals like it that way.

We were so overwhelmed by the facilities and the stunning scenery - smallish bowls flanked by massive sheer rock cliffs - that it rather made up for the less than stellar snow conditions. Despite the bright sunshine and fairly warm temperatures, the snow never really warmed up and I struggled with the crusty chop. We also discovered our first Eastern conditions at a western mountain: hard packed, scraped off and some ice. This wigged me out (since the edges of my skis have not been sharpened since February 2009) and I got very tentative. H, Chris and Andrea fared better than I, but they agreed that the day was better taken as a whole experience rather than a snow focus.

From the top of the tram, looking westward to the Great Salt Lake

We did take the tram all the way up to the start of the Men’s Downhill – fabulous view of the Great Salt Lake; the liftie told us that on the clearest days you can see four other states from up there: Nevada, Idaho, Wyoming and Colorado - and peeked over the edge, immediately gaining a whole lot of respect for those skiers who launch themselves out of those start houses. Really, really, really steep. It was all bumped up so H and Chris gave it a try, reporting that in fact it was softer and less steep than some of what we’d skied at Alta; Andrea and I took the scary switchbacks down to the women’s start instead, finding that much less intimidating.

Apres - note the cushioned chairs and granite-topped tables

After we finished skiing (the other three skied right to the end of the day while I quit a few runs earlier), we grabbed a locally-brewed beer on the sunny patio, soaking in the mellow ambiance. Snowbasin is cool. But don’t tell anyone I told you so: at least two different people told us not to say we’d skied there – “tell’em you were at Park City or Snowbird” – because they want to keep it like it is, uncrowded, undeveloped, hidden, precious.  You just didn't hear it from me.

saturday at alta

I love these dark blue skies

Saturday dawned with a few inches of new snow, clear skies and bright sunshine, and rather chilly temperatures around 17 at the base. After Chris made breakfast for us, we headed up Little Cottonwood Canyon, meeting Melissa, Judy and Will up there. It looked as though it was going to be crowded but once the first chairs cleared out, we never really had to wait in lines again.

Traversing is a lot of work

Will had been to Alta several times before and H and I were more than happy to let him lead the charge. The charge, however, meant a LOT of traversing and hiking to get to the less-tracked snow. Judy and I managed to hang with the boys for nearly the entire day, which brought me to some terrain that I’m certain I never would have tried if left to my own devices. We did one long, uphill traverse into a trackless bowl and, once I could breathe without panting, flung ourselves into it with abandon. I managed to get two turns in before flopping down into an impressive face plant.

The lunch bunch

Another one of Will’s selections landed us in a tight, tree- and rock-lined chute; he was the only one to attempt it as the rest of us found a slightly wider out. One of the last runs Judy and I did with the boys involved another fairly long, climbing traverse that brought us out on top of a steep ridge. We dropped in before we could psych ourselves out too badly over the height and, at the bottom, Will finally admitted that this would probably be his last “challenging” run – he’s a telemark skier (like Chris) and his legs just couldn’t take it any longer.

When Will's legs finally got tired

After that, Judy and I rejoined Andrea and Melissa for a couple of cushy “girl” runs in a lower bowl, then the whole group camped out on the Alta patio for PBRs in the sunshine. Will thought about it long and hard and said he just couldn’t come up with anything wrong with the whole day – I think he pretty much nailed it there.

let the wild ski-rumpus begin

I haven't posted in AGES but the last houseguests just left last night.  I'll start catching you up post-haste:

Will and Chris all smiles at Alta

Starting with that fabulous day at Snowbird last Wednesday, the Great Utah Ski Tour of 2010 was off and running! I had to go back to work for the rest of the week, but H herded a gang of four Easterners to Alta on Thursday for lots of hiking, traversing and great skiing; and then six of them, plus a local resident, to Brighton on Friday. I was surprised that they picked Brighton but the thought was that since Thursday night had been cold, the snow on a mountain that had slightly less elevation was oriented slightly differently – like Brighton – might not have seized up so hard. And the thought was right: they had a great day skiing in the trees, plus three of them had their season passes from Sunday River and Sugarloaf with them, and got comped their day passes as Brighton is a sister-resort.

Melissa and Judy enjoying the view at Brighton

I met up with them Friday night at the Canyon Inn, after having picked up a non-skiing Eastern spouse after her luxurious spa day at Snowbird’s Cliff Lodge, where the skiers were very much enjoying the cold pitchers of local brew. It was a slight struggle to come up with a place for dinner for all nine of us on a Friday night with no reservations, but we managed to get in at Buca di Beppo’s which, since the pasta is served in massive family-style bowls, ended up being a perfect place for ravenous skiers. The restaurant is a little kitschy, but the food tasted good, the service was prompt and the prices were reasonable. As you might imagine, it was not a late night – off to Alta in the morning!