Day 50: The Easter Bunny left us the golden egg.
OMFG. Yeah, that's expression's crude but that's about the best I can do in my rest-deprived state to describe yesterday, which included -- and I'm not exaggerating one bit -- two of the best, it not the best runs of my life. In 40 years of skiing I can't think of a single run that topped either of our final two runs yesterday. In fact, I can think of only one that even came close. Sunday also one of those rare non-storm days where each successive run gets better and better, not the other way around.
They had forecast only a couple of inches overnight, so it was a pleasant surprise when we received 8" of absolute 5% pixie dust. It's wonderful when a forecast underpromises and overdelivers, for once. On top of that there were many areas yet to open since the big storm earlier this week, and the 7" of heavier snow Friday night for over 4 feet of untracked. On top of that, Alta was relatively deserted for a Saturday.
Mira, Sima, Pat and I met up with Bobby Danger and The Other Bobby D at GMD at the appointed time, but the latter two headed immediately to Mineral Basin at Snowbird to get some runs in over there before it baked to oatmeal. Pat took the Transfer Tow up to Albion to get some new Intuition liners baked for her boots, so that initially left me with Mira and Sima only. Backside and Ballroom/Baldy Shoulder remained closed so we took our first run on West Rustler somewhere in the vicinity of Watson Line. Fabulous untracked, yet you were punching through to the crusted base beneath. I was doing somewhere around warp 3 when I lost it just above some of the stunted trees. I braced for impact and hit the trees with the bases of my skis. That stopped my lower body's momentum, but my upper body continued, somersaulting over the trees and landing back onto my feet, just so that I could watch the shaved-off tops of the trees continue tumbling across the snow down the hill. Hey...they needed a trimming anyway.
It turns out that we had just missed the Ballroom/Baldy Shoulder opening when we had pushed out onto the High T, so after riding back up to Germania Pass we headed out to hit up some of what was left. Our plans were thwarted, however, by a kid who fell on the traverse amongst the initial trees, and his parents were doing precious little to get him out of the traverse in a timely manner. One emergency stop after another piled up behind the kid, including Mira's that wrenched a ski from her boot. Frustrated, I just dropped right there, which turned out to be a fortuitous decision after all for we had untracked down to Main Street before crossing the groomer and finding superb, deep untracked snow in the trees between Mambo and Main Street.
Each run was getting better than the last. Once again, however, we had apparently just missed the rope drop for High Notch when we headed out toward Ballroom. It was 10:25 a.m. as we started the hike, for they were leaving the gravity gate out to Yellow Trail and Backside closed until 10:45 to preserve the powder experience for those willing to climb. The climbing pace was blistering and took a lot out of each of us, but once through the avalanche debris at the top Backside opened up into absolute bottomless fluff. We ripped it, pausing only once to regroup before emerging onto the spongy corduroy of Home Run.
We had just loaded Sunnyside when Pat called. Her liners were done and she was riding Cecret en route to Supreme, so she rejoined us there. Back 40 was calling, and although Friday night's 7 inches was cut up there wasn't a single track in Saturday night's 8 inches -- not one. We ripped it from the very top at the Spiny traverse. Big smiles!
We bumped into Marc_C at the bottom of Supreme, but then lost him again as we headed out to So Long in Catherine's area for more surprisingly untracked and lightly tracked goodness -- hardly anyone was skiing out there yesterday. We had, however, been watching a whole slew of Alta Ski Patrol working to open Devil's Castle, which hasn't been open in ages. Several storms'-worth of snow had accumulated out there just waiting to be taken. It was now 11:45, so we figured that by taking an early lunch we'd likely time it well to make the opening, based on where ASP was working up there at the time. Besides, by lunching at Alf's we could keep an eye on their progress from below.
I was, however, beat from Saturday and Sunday morning's High Notch climb, laying on the table to rest my eyes. I bought a coffee after lunch trying to snap out of it. I figured that the Castle would likely be my last run of the day if it opened after lunch. Sima was dragging, too, wondering if he wanted to climb any more at all.
We were halfway up Sugarloaf when the Castle opened, which was nearly as good timing as we could have hoped for. We got off the chair and stepped immediately into line to climb. We marveled at the vivid sun dog as the first high clouds associated with this week's massive next storm moved in. However, the line barely moved. It would shuffle along a few feet and then stop again. And again. And stay stopped. Natives behind us were getting restless. We couldn't figure out for anything why the line was moving so slowly -- I've seen it slow before, but nothing like that.
We rounded the corner and found the answer: one of ASP's finest was standing next to the traverse metering the traffic flow so that folks wouldn't plow into one another at the dip below the Sugarloaf cliffs. Never saw that one before, but it did make things easier once past the traffic meter.
We went nearly to the Wall. I'd wanted to reach the Wall, but there was significant slide debris out there. On the final major climb, however, there were ample untracked acres just beneath the small trees below the traverse. That looked too good to ignore, so we dropped in.
Oh. My. God. Bottomless, fluffy, consistent and even...it ripped. I bore slightly left to catch the north-facing gully without a single track in it before traversing back around right to drop through the steep, slightly treed hillocks just to skier's left of the Wall run...and didn't cross a single freakin' track. A heli couldn't surpass that run, this was the best heli-quality snow you could ask for. My mind was numb, yet my senses attuned...it was, in a word, positively orgasmic.
We couldn't believe our good fortune. We ended up in one of the numerous terrain holes at the bottom of the Castle, and snow on the flats was definitely starting to dampen in the sun. I broke trail to get out of there. Exhausted, we arrived at Supreme wondering what we could possibly do to even come close to matching that run. We had settled on heading out the Apron gate to approach the Castle from the opposite direction, but Kimber from ASP invited us to join him on a backcountry run out to Sunset Peak. You don't turn down an offer like that.
Anticipation gave us a whole new flow of energy. We bounded up the Catherine's hike, crossing both ridges en route to Last Chance before leaving the ski area and traversing across Rocky Point. A traverse line had been well established a hundred feet or so below Sunset Peak's summit, above which things were pretty wind-stripped anyway. We hunted for the best north-facing line and dropped in.
Unbelievable. Unreal. Surreal. Somehow, some way it was even better than the Castle had been. Absolutely bottomless, perfectly consistent, cold smoke billowed behind each of us as we bounded down the slope in a complete state of bliss. It simply doesn't get any better than that. Not at all.
We regrouped next to Lake Catherine, encountering another backcountry party that included the very bunny who left us the golden egg. In fact, he was holding a golden egg of his own.
Mira and Kimber were the only two with skins. Sima, Pat and I had to bootpack, but we were about 500 yards away from and 100 vertical feet below the established booter. Avoiding the skin track, that left us no option but to sidestep through bottomless untracked snow up to the bootpack itself. It was exhausting work. I swear, I'm never skiing without my skins in my pack again.
Eventually, however, we reached Catherine's Pass to return to the ski area.
We rested there for a bit, watching others continue past us up Tuscarora. It was now 3:30, however, and we were in fact done. We returned via west-facing terrain in Catherine's Area and near Patsy Marley, finding that the early afternoon sun had wetted those surfaces before the clouds had rolled in, leaving a barely perceptible onion skin on the surface. It did nothing, however, to detract from the quality of those final untracked turns.
I'm back in the office today, licking my wounds but still smiling at our good fortune. As I said, it just doesn't get any better than that.
OMFG. Yeah, that's expression's crude but that's about the best I can do in my rest-deprived state to describe yesterday, which included -- and I'm not exaggerating one bit -- two of the best, it not the best runs of my life. In 40 years of skiing I can't think of a single run that topped either of our final two runs yesterday. In fact, I can think of only one that even came close. Sunday also one of those rare non-storm days where each successive run gets better and better, not the other way around.
They had forecast only a couple of inches overnight, so it was a pleasant surprise when we received 8" of absolute 5% pixie dust. It's wonderful when a forecast underpromises and overdelivers, for once. On top of that there were many areas yet to open since the big storm earlier this week, and the 7" of heavier snow Friday night for over 4 feet of untracked. On top of that, Alta was relatively deserted for a Saturday.
Mira, Sima, Pat and I met up with Bobby Danger and The Other Bobby D at GMD at the appointed time, but the latter two headed immediately to Mineral Basin at Snowbird to get some runs in over there before it baked to oatmeal. Pat took the Transfer Tow up to Albion to get some new Intuition liners baked for her boots, so that initially left me with Mira and Sima only. Backside and Ballroom/Baldy Shoulder remained closed so we took our first run on West Rustler somewhere in the vicinity of Watson Line. Fabulous untracked, yet you were punching through to the crusted base beneath. I was doing somewhere around warp 3 when I lost it just above some of the stunted trees. I braced for impact and hit the trees with the bases of my skis. That stopped my lower body's momentum, but my upper body continued, somersaulting over the trees and landing back onto my feet, just so that I could watch the shaved-off tops of the trees continue tumbling across the snow down the hill. Hey...they needed a trimming anyway.
It turns out that we had just missed the Ballroom/Baldy Shoulder opening when we had pushed out onto the High T, so after riding back up to Germania Pass we headed out to hit up some of what was left. Our plans were thwarted, however, by a kid who fell on the traverse amongst the initial trees, and his parents were doing precious little to get him out of the traverse in a timely manner. One emergency stop after another piled up behind the kid, including Mira's that wrenched a ski from her boot. Frustrated, I just dropped right there, which turned out to be a fortuitous decision after all for we had untracked down to Main Street before crossing the groomer and finding superb, deep untracked snow in the trees between Mambo and Main Street.
Each run was getting better than the last. Once again, however, we had apparently just missed the rope drop for High Notch when we headed out toward Ballroom. It was 10:25 a.m. as we started the hike, for they were leaving the gravity gate out to Yellow Trail and Backside closed until 10:45 to preserve the powder experience for those willing to climb. The climbing pace was blistering and took a lot out of each of us, but once through the avalanche debris at the top Backside opened up into absolute bottomless fluff. We ripped it, pausing only once to regroup before emerging onto the spongy corduroy of Home Run.
We had just loaded Sunnyside when Pat called. Her liners were done and she was riding Cecret en route to Supreme, so she rejoined us there. Back 40 was calling, and although Friday night's 7 inches was cut up there wasn't a single track in Saturday night's 8 inches -- not one. We ripped it from the very top at the Spiny traverse. Big smiles!
We bumped into Marc_C at the bottom of Supreme, but then lost him again as we headed out to So Long in Catherine's area for more surprisingly untracked and lightly tracked goodness -- hardly anyone was skiing out there yesterday. We had, however, been watching a whole slew of Alta Ski Patrol working to open Devil's Castle, which hasn't been open in ages. Several storms'-worth of snow had accumulated out there just waiting to be taken. It was now 11:45, so we figured that by taking an early lunch we'd likely time it well to make the opening, based on where ASP was working up there at the time. Besides, by lunching at Alf's we could keep an eye on their progress from below.
I was, however, beat from Saturday and Sunday morning's High Notch climb, laying on the table to rest my eyes. I bought a coffee after lunch trying to snap out of it. I figured that the Castle would likely be my last run of the day if it opened after lunch. Sima was dragging, too, wondering if he wanted to climb any more at all.
We were halfway up Sugarloaf when the Castle opened, which was nearly as good timing as we could have hoped for. We got off the chair and stepped immediately into line to climb. We marveled at the vivid sun dog as the first high clouds associated with this week's massive next storm moved in. However, the line barely moved. It would shuffle along a few feet and then stop again. And again. And stay stopped. Natives behind us were getting restless. We couldn't figure out for anything why the line was moving so slowly -- I've seen it slow before, but nothing like that.
We rounded the corner and found the answer: one of ASP's finest was standing next to the traverse metering the traffic flow so that folks wouldn't plow into one another at the dip below the Sugarloaf cliffs. Never saw that one before, but it did make things easier once past the traffic meter.
We went nearly to the Wall. I'd wanted to reach the Wall, but there was significant slide debris out there. On the final major climb, however, there were ample untracked acres just beneath the small trees below the traverse. That looked too good to ignore, so we dropped in.
Oh. My. God. Bottomless, fluffy, consistent and even...it ripped. I bore slightly left to catch the north-facing gully without a single track in it before traversing back around right to drop through the steep, slightly treed hillocks just to skier's left of the Wall run...and didn't cross a single freakin' track. A heli couldn't surpass that run, this was the best heli-quality snow you could ask for. My mind was numb, yet my senses attuned...it was, in a word, positively orgasmic.
We couldn't believe our good fortune. We ended up in one of the numerous terrain holes at the bottom of the Castle, and snow on the flats was definitely starting to dampen in the sun. I broke trail to get out of there. Exhausted, we arrived at Supreme wondering what we could possibly do to even come close to matching that run. We had settled on heading out the Apron gate to approach the Castle from the opposite direction, but Kimber from ASP invited us to join him on a backcountry run out to Sunset Peak. You don't turn down an offer like that.
Anticipation gave us a whole new flow of energy. We bounded up the Catherine's hike, crossing both ridges en route to Last Chance before leaving the ski area and traversing across Rocky Point. A traverse line had been well established a hundred feet or so below Sunset Peak's summit, above which things were pretty wind-stripped anyway. We hunted for the best north-facing line and dropped in.
Unbelievable. Unreal. Surreal. Somehow, some way it was even better than the Castle had been. Absolutely bottomless, perfectly consistent, cold smoke billowed behind each of us as we bounded down the slope in a complete state of bliss. It simply doesn't get any better than that. Not at all.
We regrouped next to Lake Catherine, encountering another backcountry party that included the very bunny who left us the golden egg. In fact, he was holding a golden egg of his own.
Mira and Kimber were the only two with skins. Sima, Pat and I had to bootpack, but we were about 500 yards away from and 100 vertical feet below the established booter. Avoiding the skin track, that left us no option but to sidestep through bottomless untracked snow up to the bootpack itself. It was exhausting work. I swear, I'm never skiing without my skins in my pack again.
Eventually, however, we reached Catherine's Pass to return to the ski area.
We rested there for a bit, watching others continue past us up Tuscarora. It was now 3:30, however, and we were in fact done. We returned via west-facing terrain in Catherine's Area and near Patsy Marley, finding that the early afternoon sun had wetted those surfaces before the clouds had rolled in, leaving a barely perceptible onion skin on the surface. It did nothing, however, to detract from the quality of those final untracked turns.
I'm back in the office today, licking my wounds but still smiling at our good fortune. As I said, it just doesn't get any better than that.
:wink: