Days 34 & 35: Killing the visitors.
One great thing about living here is that I seem to see more Northeastern friends, more often, than when I lived in the Northeast. Crazy, but true.
Marc_C, Tele Jon and I were booting up at Goldminer's Daughter on Saturday morning when in walked friends Denis, from DC, and his brother-in-law Dick, from Rochester, both old friends from my Vermont skiing days. Denis in his retirement spends a number of weeks out here every year, and Dick flew out to spend a little over a week with him. It was great to ski with these two gents again on Saturday, and with bright sun and balmy temperatures we found every snow condition imaginable under stellar weather. It was just one of those days that feels too good to not be up there and out in the mountains. Highlights included Greeley Slot, Catherine's and Susie's Trees, where we even found some untracked scraps remaining down low. By the end of a late lunch at the Rustler Lodge, Denis and Dick were so shot that they took a day off today, Sunday.
For Sunday, however, we found new victims in Rob and Nadine, old friends from Maine whom I haven't seen in nearly a decade. On Friday afternoon I was surprised to receive an email from Rob, letting me know that they were in Salt Lake after spending the first day of their trip at Brighton. I had no idea that they were coming, but by 7 p.m. they were sitting in my living room, drinking beer and soaking in the hot tub.
In the space of 10 minutes, however, Nadine went from smiling and laughing to puking over the side of the tub. Seems that she picked up some sort of food poisoning at dinner, and it was the first of many, many rounds of sickness for her that night. Needless to say, she was in no state to ski on Saturday, so they took the day and looked at rents and want-ads as they're seriously contemplating moving here next year. Nadine lived here for about 18 months in the early 1980s, but Rob has never been west of Cincinnati. And they're both seriously digging what they're seeing.
Today was the day to introduce them both to Alta. Nadine last skied here in 1998 or so, but doesn't know the place all that well. Her last memory was of a 45-minute line for the old Germania chair on a busy Saturday. Rob, of course, has never been here at all.
We gave them the grand tour. We started out on Supreme, where we did our good deed for the day. As we rode the chair we noticed two people walking back up the traverse atop the Spiny Chutes, skis over their shoulders. :shock: At that hour of the morning there was no one else skiing even remotely close to where they were. The Spinys had been baked and refrozen rather thoroughly, and even the traverse was quite firm first thing in the morning. One slip and you'd be screened through the rocks below for quite a long slide. Definitely not someplace I'd want to be walking in alpine ski boots.
So we abandoned plans to head straight to Catherine's, instead choosing Back 40 so that we could confront the walkers. It turned out to be a visiting father and son, about 13 years old. They had gone all the way out the Spinys Traverse and, upon encountering the ropeline that separates the Spiny Chutes from Catherine's, turned around to head back as they realized that they couldn't ski the Spinys themselves.
The first task was to get them back into their skis. Both were frighteningly nervous. The father said that he felt more confident walking than skiing the traverse. I did my best to explain why he was wrong, pointing out the consequences of one slip on those hard plastic soles across the cliff bands below. Dad walked to a flat spot on the traverse, paused momentarily and then kept walking. I told him again to put his skis on. He paused, then continued a bit further. I got a bit firmer with my directive. This time, he clicked into his bindings.
Meanwhile, his kid spent no time putting his skis back on with a bit of help from me.
I then told them to ski back out the traverse about 50 yards to the ropeline and cross into Catherine's. Dad expressed concern at doing so. I pointed out that there was an open gate 20 yards further uphill, and that Catherine's was in fact open. It was with no small relief that they disappeared into the gentle open bowl of So Long as we went back through the gate into Back Forty.
We found deep, lightly tracked snow in there, a marvelous reward for our morning efforts.
The line was growing at Supreme as it always does that time of day, so we rode the chair one more time, this time heading out the Castle Apron gate. Nadine, still feeling the effects of altitude and suffering the effects of her food poisoning a day earlier, hesitated when looking at the sidestep traverse but nonetheless pressed on. It was my first trip out there this season, so I was a bit surprised to see the way the traverse precipitously dropped 20 feet off the knuckle onto the apron proper. This completely wigged out Nadine. It took a lot of coaxing from Rob and yours truly to get her down off of it, and frankly she did exceptionally well but the experience took its mental toll. The snow below the Apron Traverse was divine lightly cut up powder, kept dry and cold in the protection of the cliffs directly above, but she skied it hesitantly.
This unfortunately set the tone for the first half of the day. She instantly became apprehensive of any traverse line, which Altaphiles know is required to get to any of the goods. The concept of a narrow traverse line, however, is completely foreign to anyone skiing in Maine. After a fall on the Instructor's Traverse out to Yellow Trail and Backside, she started to get the hang of it, keeping her body more loose and absorbing the undulations with her knees and hips. By the time we finished lunch at Goldminer's she was ready for the High T, which brought us back to Greeley Slot for more of the dry, sifted goodness that we found on Saturday and a chance encounter with this forum's very own Flyover.
We ended up finishing the day with a Condo Run, where we found still more pockets of untracked snow. By now, however, there was nothing left in the gas tank for either Rob or Nadine. We barely missed a UTA bus, but a kind soul from a local airport shuttle company, whose name and employer shall remain secret in order to protect the guilty, stopped 30 seconds later and gave us a ride back to Goldminer's. Sir, you're a true champ! A slew of Cutthroat drafts in Goldminer's was a fitting cap to a stellar weekend.
One great thing about living here is that I seem to see more Northeastern friends, more often, than when I lived in the Northeast. Crazy, but true.
Marc_C, Tele Jon and I were booting up at Goldminer's Daughter on Saturday morning when in walked friends Denis, from DC, and his brother-in-law Dick, from Rochester, both old friends from my Vermont skiing days. Denis in his retirement spends a number of weeks out here every year, and Dick flew out to spend a little over a week with him. It was great to ski with these two gents again on Saturday, and with bright sun and balmy temperatures we found every snow condition imaginable under stellar weather. It was just one of those days that feels too good to not be up there and out in the mountains. Highlights included Greeley Slot, Catherine's and Susie's Trees, where we even found some untracked scraps remaining down low. By the end of a late lunch at the Rustler Lodge, Denis and Dick were so shot that they took a day off today, Sunday.
For Sunday, however, we found new victims in Rob and Nadine, old friends from Maine whom I haven't seen in nearly a decade. On Friday afternoon I was surprised to receive an email from Rob, letting me know that they were in Salt Lake after spending the first day of their trip at Brighton. I had no idea that they were coming, but by 7 p.m. they were sitting in my living room, drinking beer and soaking in the hot tub.
In the space of 10 minutes, however, Nadine went from smiling and laughing to puking over the side of the tub. Seems that she picked up some sort of food poisoning at dinner, and it was the first of many, many rounds of sickness for her that night. Needless to say, she was in no state to ski on Saturday, so they took the day and looked at rents and want-ads as they're seriously contemplating moving here next year. Nadine lived here for about 18 months in the early 1980s, but Rob has never been west of Cincinnati. And they're both seriously digging what they're seeing.
Today was the day to introduce them both to Alta. Nadine last skied here in 1998 or so, but doesn't know the place all that well. Her last memory was of a 45-minute line for the old Germania chair on a busy Saturday. Rob, of course, has never been here at all.
We gave them the grand tour. We started out on Supreme, where we did our good deed for the day. As we rode the chair we noticed two people walking back up the traverse atop the Spiny Chutes, skis over their shoulders. :shock: At that hour of the morning there was no one else skiing even remotely close to where they were. The Spinys had been baked and refrozen rather thoroughly, and even the traverse was quite firm first thing in the morning. One slip and you'd be screened through the rocks below for quite a long slide. Definitely not someplace I'd want to be walking in alpine ski boots.
So we abandoned plans to head straight to Catherine's, instead choosing Back 40 so that we could confront the walkers. It turned out to be a visiting father and son, about 13 years old. They had gone all the way out the Spinys Traverse and, upon encountering the ropeline that separates the Spiny Chutes from Catherine's, turned around to head back as they realized that they couldn't ski the Spinys themselves.
The first task was to get them back into their skis. Both were frighteningly nervous. The father said that he felt more confident walking than skiing the traverse. I did my best to explain why he was wrong, pointing out the consequences of one slip on those hard plastic soles across the cliff bands below. Dad walked to a flat spot on the traverse, paused momentarily and then kept walking. I told him again to put his skis on. He paused, then continued a bit further. I got a bit firmer with my directive. This time, he clicked into his bindings.
Meanwhile, his kid spent no time putting his skis back on with a bit of help from me.
I then told them to ski back out the traverse about 50 yards to the ropeline and cross into Catherine's. Dad expressed concern at doing so. I pointed out that there was an open gate 20 yards further uphill, and that Catherine's was in fact open. It was with no small relief that they disappeared into the gentle open bowl of So Long as we went back through the gate into Back Forty.
We found deep, lightly tracked snow in there, a marvelous reward for our morning efforts.
The line was growing at Supreme as it always does that time of day, so we rode the chair one more time, this time heading out the Castle Apron gate. Nadine, still feeling the effects of altitude and suffering the effects of her food poisoning a day earlier, hesitated when looking at the sidestep traverse but nonetheless pressed on. It was my first trip out there this season, so I was a bit surprised to see the way the traverse precipitously dropped 20 feet off the knuckle onto the apron proper. This completely wigged out Nadine. It took a lot of coaxing from Rob and yours truly to get her down off of it, and frankly she did exceptionally well but the experience took its mental toll. The snow below the Apron Traverse was divine lightly cut up powder, kept dry and cold in the protection of the cliffs directly above, but she skied it hesitantly.
This unfortunately set the tone for the first half of the day. She instantly became apprehensive of any traverse line, which Altaphiles know is required to get to any of the goods. The concept of a narrow traverse line, however, is completely foreign to anyone skiing in Maine. After a fall on the Instructor's Traverse out to Yellow Trail and Backside, she started to get the hang of it, keeping her body more loose and absorbing the undulations with her knees and hips. By the time we finished lunch at Goldminer's she was ready for the High T, which brought us back to Greeley Slot for more of the dry, sifted goodness that we found on Saturday and a chance encounter with this forum's very own Flyover.
We ended up finishing the day with a Condo Run, where we found still more pockets of untracked snow. By now, however, there was nothing left in the gas tank for either Rob or Nadine. We barely missed a UTA bus, but a kind soul from a local airport shuttle company, whose name and employer shall remain secret in order to protect the guilty, stopped 30 seconds later and gave us a ride back to Goldminer's. Sir, you're a true champ! A slew of Cutthroat drafts in Goldminer's was a fitting cap to a stellar weekend.
Great TR. After learning the skill of traversing yesterday Alta became a whole lot more skiable. Even after a long soak in the hot tub and a dip in the pool my body is still spent. My favorite runs of the day were those soft bumps we hit right before lunch and the tree run right after lunch. By the time we got to the condo run my body was beat. My final exit off the snowplow birm onto the road was it for me. A combination of tired legs, sore knee and high altitude, combined with the aftermath of food poisoning two days prior completely drained me.