Day 42: Got my ass kicked.
I opened my eyes and rolled over to look at the clock. 8:40! Aww, shit!!!!!
When using one's cell phone as an alarm clock, and the battery is nearly dead, it helps immensely to ensure that the phone is properly seated in its charging cradle before drifting off to sleep. I didn't. It went dead in the middle of the night.
I correctly seated its charging connectors before scampering off into the kitchen to start the coffee. I was still in a mental haze when the alarm started ringing in the bedroom, just to spite me.
I quickly left voicemails for several in the posse to ask them to meet me at Collins at 10. Skiace, Tony Crocker's eldest son, left me a text message to say that he and Ben would be at Collins at 9:30. I quickly pecked out a reply to make it 10, and got my butt out the door without any breakfast.
Halfway up I realized that I'd left my avalanche transceiver on the fireplace. #-o Oh, great...I'd be carrying around a shovel and probe, but no beacon.
We all grouped at 10 am at Collins, including Liftlines user Yak, who drove over from Vail along with his buddy Ziggy who lives there. Really, the group that was gathering was too large, so when Bobby Danger led a high-speed charge down Yellow Trail toward Backside it wasn't entirely bad that the group fragmented immediately.
Backside was actually quite pleasant, with cut up snow from Thursday's foot topped by a couple of inches of untracked from last night. Bummer that the Friday night storm dove south of us and instead coated the central Utah desert instead of the Wasatch, but no matter, we were going to get the goods because they'd just dropped the rope to open Devil's Castle for the first time since the Wednesday night/Thursday storm.
The conga line heading out, though, was absolutely ridiculous. Bobby, Tele Jon and Skidog begged off and headed into Mineral Basin at Snowbird. We'd somehow become separated from Yak, and Skiace, Ben, Ziggy and I slowly sidestepped along with the masses out the traverse. I've never, ever seen that traverse move so slowly. Someone up ahead must've been stopped in the traverse and had enough people with him that stopped behind him instead of going around, such that on the hike out we were stopped more often than we were moving. Ridiculous.
Word to the uninitiated: if you need to stop to rest, step off the traverse! Eventually in frustration I dropped one step below the traverse and broke trail alongside, thereafter constantly trying to regain altitude to get out to where I wanted to be.
In the end, though, it was worth all of the effort to ski a foot of absolutely untracked snow on the lower half of Devil's Castle. The snow was dreamy, although you had to exercise care for every now and again you'd hit a slightly denser spot that would temporarily disrupt your balance.
We caught up with Yak again at the bottom of Sugarloaf, who berated us for leaving him behind. He had never done the Baldy Chutes before, so when they opened up Mt. Baldy the next run seemed incredibly obvious. We clicked out of our skis at Sugarloaf Pass, and as the others shouldered theirs and started hiking I strapped mine to my pack to join the climb as well.
Now, I much prefer the Snowbird side Baldy hike, as the first third of the hike from Sugarloaf is brutally steep. Eventually it mellows for the second third and even more for the final third past Perla's, but by that point I was already sapped of any strength I had on an empty stomach. By the time I reached the summit my quads were knotting, and clouds blew into the summit as we sat there, obscuring any view that Yak could've enjoyed for his first trip up there.
Perla's was the only route closed on Baldy, along with a stern warning to not even think about venturing onto the cornice above it. Main Chute, Little Chute, Dogleg, Baldy Shoulder and East Baldy were all open. We peered down Little Chute, and it actually looked decent. I stumbled through a few turns down the Lawn to set up a perch at the rim of the chute to photograph the others dropping in.
However, it looked far better than it skied. In fact, it was downright miserable, with glare ice down through the crux and continuing on the right half all the way down to Ballroom, and the heaviest avalanche debris imaginable filling the left half. Frankly, I couldn't ski it worth jack, and my exhausted condition amplified matters to the point that I pretty much lost all confidence in my ability to ski, even out onto Ballroom. I put my tail between my legs and cruised down the groomed Main Street to meet Bobby, Skidog and Tele Jon at GMD for lunch along with my group.
Lunch was a pathetic affair. Skiace and Ben were nodding off at the table, having driven through the night from San Diego and arriving at Snowbird at 6 am this morning (it must be nice to be 24 again!). I was exhausted and was whining about how I felt. Lunch therefore took much longer than normal, but we eventually got ourseselves back onto the hill for one more run.
We decided to hit one more little gem that shall remain secret but which yielded even more untracked snow. By this point, however, it was 2 p.m. and Skiace, Ben, Tele Jon and I had enough, and went our separate ways to find a mattress. Bobby and Skidog plugged on.
I feel as beaten as a rented mule, and just awoke from a two-hour nap. On tomorrow's agenda: White Pine.
I opened my eyes and rolled over to look at the clock. 8:40! Aww, shit!!!!!
When using one's cell phone as an alarm clock, and the battery is nearly dead, it helps immensely to ensure that the phone is properly seated in its charging cradle before drifting off to sleep. I didn't. It went dead in the middle of the night.
I correctly seated its charging connectors before scampering off into the kitchen to start the coffee. I was still in a mental haze when the alarm started ringing in the bedroom, just to spite me.
I quickly left voicemails for several in the posse to ask them to meet me at Collins at 10. Skiace, Tony Crocker's eldest son, left me a text message to say that he and Ben would be at Collins at 9:30. I quickly pecked out a reply to make it 10, and got my butt out the door without any breakfast.
Halfway up I realized that I'd left my avalanche transceiver on the fireplace. #-o Oh, great...I'd be carrying around a shovel and probe, but no beacon.
We all grouped at 10 am at Collins, including Liftlines user Yak, who drove over from Vail along with his buddy Ziggy who lives there. Really, the group that was gathering was too large, so when Bobby Danger led a high-speed charge down Yellow Trail toward Backside it wasn't entirely bad that the group fragmented immediately.
Backside was actually quite pleasant, with cut up snow from Thursday's foot topped by a couple of inches of untracked from last night. Bummer that the Friday night storm dove south of us and instead coated the central Utah desert instead of the Wasatch, but no matter, we were going to get the goods because they'd just dropped the rope to open Devil's Castle for the first time since the Wednesday night/Thursday storm.
The conga line heading out, though, was absolutely ridiculous. Bobby, Tele Jon and Skidog begged off and headed into Mineral Basin at Snowbird. We'd somehow become separated from Yak, and Skiace, Ben, Ziggy and I slowly sidestepped along with the masses out the traverse. I've never, ever seen that traverse move so slowly. Someone up ahead must've been stopped in the traverse and had enough people with him that stopped behind him instead of going around, such that on the hike out we were stopped more often than we were moving. Ridiculous.
Word to the uninitiated: if you need to stop to rest, step off the traverse! Eventually in frustration I dropped one step below the traverse and broke trail alongside, thereafter constantly trying to regain altitude to get out to where I wanted to be.
In the end, though, it was worth all of the effort to ski a foot of absolutely untracked snow on the lower half of Devil's Castle. The snow was dreamy, although you had to exercise care for every now and again you'd hit a slightly denser spot that would temporarily disrupt your balance.
We caught up with Yak again at the bottom of Sugarloaf, who berated us for leaving him behind. He had never done the Baldy Chutes before, so when they opened up Mt. Baldy the next run seemed incredibly obvious. We clicked out of our skis at Sugarloaf Pass, and as the others shouldered theirs and started hiking I strapped mine to my pack to join the climb as well.
Now, I much prefer the Snowbird side Baldy hike, as the first third of the hike from Sugarloaf is brutally steep. Eventually it mellows for the second third and even more for the final third past Perla's, but by that point I was already sapped of any strength I had on an empty stomach. By the time I reached the summit my quads were knotting, and clouds blew into the summit as we sat there, obscuring any view that Yak could've enjoyed for his first trip up there.
Perla's was the only route closed on Baldy, along with a stern warning to not even think about venturing onto the cornice above it. Main Chute, Little Chute, Dogleg, Baldy Shoulder and East Baldy were all open. We peered down Little Chute, and it actually looked decent. I stumbled through a few turns down the Lawn to set up a perch at the rim of the chute to photograph the others dropping in.
However, it looked far better than it skied. In fact, it was downright miserable, with glare ice down through the crux and continuing on the right half all the way down to Ballroom, and the heaviest avalanche debris imaginable filling the left half. Frankly, I couldn't ski it worth jack, and my exhausted condition amplified matters to the point that I pretty much lost all confidence in my ability to ski, even out onto Ballroom. I put my tail between my legs and cruised down the groomed Main Street to meet Bobby, Skidog and Tele Jon at GMD for lunch along with my group.
Lunch was a pathetic affair. Skiace and Ben were nodding off at the table, having driven through the night from San Diego and arriving at Snowbird at 6 am this morning (it must be nice to be 24 again!). I was exhausted and was whining about how I felt. Lunch therefore took much longer than normal, but we eventually got ourseselves back onto the hill for one more run.
We decided to hit one more little gem that shall remain secret but which yielded even more untracked snow. By this point, however, it was 2 p.m. and Skiace, Ben, Tele Jon and I had enough, and went our separate ways to find a mattress. Bobby and Skidog plugged on.
I feel as beaten as a rented mule, and just awoke from a two-hour nap. On tomorrow's agenda: White Pine.
