Day 65: Another first for me.
Yes, today was the first that I've skied Snowbasin this winter, but that isn't the "first" that I'm talking about. More on that in a bit. Today was Ski Utah's annual Local Media Day, hosted this season by Snowbasin, so I hoofed it up I-15 this morning fueled only by 5 hours of sleep and 6 cups of coffee.
After a continental breakfast in the Huntington Room, we booted up and headed out. I'd struck up a conversation over breakfast with Jim Steenburgh, Professor and Chair of Atmospheric Sciences at the University of Utah and we spent the morning skiing together. Jim's a fascinating guy. He's a hardcore skier, which brought him to his career in meteorology which has a particular focus on the science of snowfall. He's already penned a scientific paper on what makes Utah's snow "the greatest snow on earth," but is now concentrating his efforts on writing a book on the same subject aimed more at the general population, while simultaneously discussing snowfall characteristics in other mountain ranges worldwide. I learned a lot listening to Jim today, and he's an all around great guy and great skier to boot. It made for a fun morning.
Jim has a Wasatch weather blog of which I was heretofore unaware, but makes excellent reading for those wishing to stay on top of what's happening around here:
http://wasatchweatherweenies.blogspot.com/
It rained to 8,000 feet here in the Wasatch on Wednesday with snow above, followed by a lowering snow line Wednesday night down to around 6,000 feet. The storm unfortunately petered out at the end and didn't leave as much dry snow behind as we all would have liked. High on the mountain, thick creamy snow skied delightfully anywhere that wasn't already tracked, and we still found untracked out toward the Sisters and along the John Paul/No Name ropeline off the Mt. Allen Tram. Low down, though, getting out of John Paul was a masochistic exercise, with nutty crunchy snow lurking everywhere. The trick, therefore, was to search out untracked high on the hill before returning to the impeccably groomed runs to return to the base.
Squeezed into our morning we took our turns through gates that Snowbasin had set up for us on Bullwinkle, near the Middle Bowl chair. Rossignol S7s hardly make FIS-approved slalom skis, and I wish I could blame the time I lost in the middle gates on the skis. But I can't. Gates just aren't my specialty and I entered a couple of them a little late. My personal time may have been disappointing but my team -- "Team Little Cottonwood" -- at least won the team award.
After a tasty lunch of a made-to-order szechuan vegetable stir fry with shrimp and Asian noodles (Snowbasin's food takes a back seat to no other ski area cafeteria), Utah-based writer and filmmaker Bill Kehrig and Continental Cup ski jumper Lindsey Van spoke to the group about Bill's latest project, a film documenting the struggles of women ski jumpers for inclusion in the Olympic Winter Games. Kehrig is the creative force behind the films Steep and The Edge of Never.
We then headed back out. Ski Utah president Nathan Rafferty joined Jim and yours truly on a run I've never done before: Mt. Ogden Chute. This requires a ride up the Mt. Allen Tram, followed by a hike up Mt. Odgen, a short descent along the ridgeline above the Finger Chutes, then another bootpack along the ridgeline nearly to the summit of Mt. Ogden to the top of the chute. This is impressive terrain, terrain that I've never before been able to ski because the backcountry gate accessing the ridgeline has never been open when I've stepped off the Tram. It's a testament to Snowbasin's open management philosophy that access to these lines is granted at all. The Fingers in particular are absolutely hairball, and were open for skiing today, but not in these conditions for mere mortals like yours truly.
Mt. Ogden Chute is much wider than the Fingers, and today was wider than I've ever before seen it. Our early wet snowfall has stuck incredibly well, and Snowbasin now reports a remarkable 127-inch base that should last well into the spring this season. It's filled in the gully beautifully except for on skier's right at the top where a wide swath of bedrock remains exposed. On my first few turns, however, I quickly learned that I had to be tentative for you could still feel the crunch beneath the few inches of new snow. The reason for my caution was confirmed when I reached the choke of the chute, the crux of the line, which had about 20 yards of grey ice to negotiate. The apron below the chute in Mt. Ogden Bowl, however, was positively divine.
By now, though, the clouds and desert dust had thickened and light went completely flat, so it was time to head back to Salt Lake. As one Snowbasin staffer mentioned, however, I've got to get up there more often.
Yes, today was the first that I've skied Snowbasin this winter, but that isn't the "first" that I'm talking about. More on that in a bit. Today was Ski Utah's annual Local Media Day, hosted this season by Snowbasin, so I hoofed it up I-15 this morning fueled only by 5 hours of sleep and 6 cups of coffee.
After a continental breakfast in the Huntington Room, we booted up and headed out. I'd struck up a conversation over breakfast with Jim Steenburgh, Professor and Chair of Atmospheric Sciences at the University of Utah and we spent the morning skiing together. Jim's a fascinating guy. He's a hardcore skier, which brought him to his career in meteorology which has a particular focus on the science of snowfall. He's already penned a scientific paper on what makes Utah's snow "the greatest snow on earth," but is now concentrating his efforts on writing a book on the same subject aimed more at the general population, while simultaneously discussing snowfall characteristics in other mountain ranges worldwide. I learned a lot listening to Jim today, and he's an all around great guy and great skier to boot. It made for a fun morning.
Jim has a Wasatch weather blog of which I was heretofore unaware, but makes excellent reading for those wishing to stay on top of what's happening around here:
http://wasatchweatherweenies.blogspot.com/
It rained to 8,000 feet here in the Wasatch on Wednesday with snow above, followed by a lowering snow line Wednesday night down to around 6,000 feet. The storm unfortunately petered out at the end and didn't leave as much dry snow behind as we all would have liked. High on the mountain, thick creamy snow skied delightfully anywhere that wasn't already tracked, and we still found untracked out toward the Sisters and along the John Paul/No Name ropeline off the Mt. Allen Tram. Low down, though, getting out of John Paul was a masochistic exercise, with nutty crunchy snow lurking everywhere. The trick, therefore, was to search out untracked high on the hill before returning to the impeccably groomed runs to return to the base.
Squeezed into our morning we took our turns through gates that Snowbasin had set up for us on Bullwinkle, near the Middle Bowl chair. Rossignol S7s hardly make FIS-approved slalom skis, and I wish I could blame the time I lost in the middle gates on the skis. But I can't. Gates just aren't my specialty and I entered a couple of them a little late. My personal time may have been disappointing but my team -- "Team Little Cottonwood" -- at least won the team award.
After a tasty lunch of a made-to-order szechuan vegetable stir fry with shrimp and Asian noodles (Snowbasin's food takes a back seat to no other ski area cafeteria), Utah-based writer and filmmaker Bill Kehrig and Continental Cup ski jumper Lindsey Van spoke to the group about Bill's latest project, a film documenting the struggles of women ski jumpers for inclusion in the Olympic Winter Games. Kehrig is the creative force behind the films Steep and The Edge of Never.
We then headed back out. Ski Utah president Nathan Rafferty joined Jim and yours truly on a run I've never done before: Mt. Ogden Chute. This requires a ride up the Mt. Allen Tram, followed by a hike up Mt. Odgen, a short descent along the ridgeline above the Finger Chutes, then another bootpack along the ridgeline nearly to the summit of Mt. Ogden to the top of the chute. This is impressive terrain, terrain that I've never before been able to ski because the backcountry gate accessing the ridgeline has never been open when I've stepped off the Tram. It's a testament to Snowbasin's open management philosophy that access to these lines is granted at all. The Fingers in particular are absolutely hairball, and were open for skiing today, but not in these conditions for mere mortals like yours truly.
Mt. Ogden Chute is much wider than the Fingers, and today was wider than I've ever before seen it. Our early wet snowfall has stuck incredibly well, and Snowbasin now reports a remarkable 127-inch base that should last well into the spring this season. It's filled in the gully beautifully except for on skier's right at the top where a wide swath of bedrock remains exposed. On my first few turns, however, I quickly learned that I had to be tentative for you could still feel the crunch beneath the few inches of new snow. The reason for my caution was confirmed when I reached the choke of the chute, the crux of the line, which had about 20 yards of grey ice to negotiate. The apron below the chute in Mt. Ogden Bowl, however, was positively divine.
By now, though, the clouds and desert dust had thickened and light went completely flat, so it was time to head back to Salt Lake. As one Snowbasin staffer mentioned, however, I've got to get up there more often.
finally got someone to say something :twisted: I'll work on becoming more becoming, have a great spring season, sorry I missed you guys this year :-( Later, AC