Warning: I'm bored and feeling long-winded, so verbose TR ahead. Cliffs notes: Waited a long time to get on the snow, had an epic day riding blower pow, was lucky to get back home intact.
Pulled off Base Line at about 8:30 AM, ready for an excellent day. Snow just past the second tunnel, no problem through the village, but Uh Oh- why are all these cars with equipment on them heading back downhill? My heart sank. Problems ahead. Indeed- CHP is up there, turning people around. CRAP. I have to know.
"Six car pileup ahead. Road's closed."
"How Long?"
"All day long."
"Really? All day?"
"Really."
Well, crap. I HAVE to ride today. I can be at Mt. High in an hour. I head down the road, and am about to get back on the 210, when a little voice inside my head hits the STOP button and I pull over and think this through. No way do I want to spend this, THE powder day of the season, at frigging Mt. High. The road will open. It has to. The CHP was being about as honest as John Edwards; what does he care about my need to snowboard. I call the resort. "We'll be open by 11. Go the Mt. Baldy Lodge, get a beer, and wait for the road." I tell her that was probably just about the best advice in the long history of advice. I go back to the closure, wait about 90 minutes for it to open, then convoy up slowly. It's another 45 minutes to the resort, I park in the Bowling Alley because the line into the lot isn't moving. Hike to the ticket window, miraculously beat the line there by a couple of minutes (remember everyone has just arrived at the same time), wait a few for Chair 1, and my day begins around noon.
Riding up 1 I see and hear people coming down Bentley's and Nightmare hooting and hollering. Oh yeah. Get to the top, and start to hike up to the top of 2 to drop down into the fire road, when I see a patroller. I ask about 3, he says it'll open in 10 minutes. First set of chairs on Thunder? Yes, please. I beeline down and get on probably the 20th chair up.
There's something magical about dropping into your first run of the day, feeling yourself float, and letting the realization hit that This Will Be Special. I surf the thousand-foot wave of Emile's backhand on the west side of the canyon, every turn a dreamy reminder of why we do this sport. There is stoke, and there is STOKE. Experiencing the latter, I cannot help but to hoot uncontrollably down. This is what we live for. This is why Mt. Baldy is special. I get to the bottom with an ear-to-ear grin, get back on, and do it all again down the liftline. The mountain is alive with shouts of joy from all directions.
Now it's time to go explore what isn't obvious from the lift. Goldridge can't be touched much yet, and I'm right. I lap the trees here, finding untracked turns for a couple of hours. Magical.
I wonder about the runs to the lot. They have to be tracked out. Have to be. Still- I gotta try them out. Up Chair 2 and down the road, and I drop into Morgan's. I was wrong. Plenty of virgin snow here. I get over to Bentley's- same deal. It occurs to me that I go blind with every turn. It takes a moment to understand- this is this "blower pow" that those privileged fellows up in Utah speak of. Methinks I approve. This isn't champagne powder, but it'll do quite nicely, thank you. I cut over far to the left and enjoy the rest of this miraculous run, traversing high to the left and dropping straight down to the now-minimal liftline. I head up 1 and repeat the process, glad to be alive for this day.
I go check out Goldridge again, and it's still good in there but getting harder not to cross others' lines. It's about 3:45 now, not much time left. I see people walking up from under the chair, and I first assume they've poached South Bowl. Then it occurs to me: Oh No, I forgot all about the Tube! I gotta get over there! The entrance is guarded by a huge winddrift off Skyline- if you didn't know it was there, you couldn't see the run. For this reason, it is essentially untouched but for a few lonely tracks here and there. I have time for two runs through here, enjoying this huge halfpipe of powder in perfect solitude.
Up Chair 2, and I get ready for my final parking lot run of the day. Another boarder approaches. "I've never been here before, are you going to the parking lot?" I smile and tell him to follow. I lead him to the drop into Bentley's, scouting a line of yet untouched snow. "This is unbelievable!" he says. Welcome to Mt. Baldy, my friend. I drop into another glorious run, stay high to the left, and ride down to my car, amazed to find that nobody has bounced off it. I strip off my gear, clear the 5 inches of new snow from the windows, and marvel about the day that has just happened. It ranks up there with experiences at Mammoth and Kirkwood. Not the best all-time, but way, way up there.
The fun ends and The Ugly here begins. I go to pull out of my spot and an employee comes running up to me yelling at me to stop. Huh? "We're only letting one car go every few minutes or else there's gonna be a pileup." Uhh, OK. I wait my turn, and head off at about 5 mph in low gear when given the go ahead. Cars are parked on both sides. I see people sliding. Uh oh. I'm barely moving at all, and tap the brake, when it hits me, Dear Lord, I'm sliding too. I muster all the driving skill I've picked up over the years, tapping the gas here, tapping the brake there, wheel here, wheel there, and manage to make a semi-controlled zigzag slide down the bowling alley of cars without hitting anyone. This is no small miracle. Ego and vehicle intact, I get out of the fall line, and decide that while my AWD handles great without chains, these M+S tires have no downhill traction on this malevolent conspiracy of snow and ice. My chains have sat unused in the trunk for years, and it's time to recruit them into action.
Horror of horrors, I soon realize, these chains don't even come close to fitting. I check the box and my tires again. Yup, they match. The manufacturer has put the wrong cables in the box. So THIS is why they say to always check them after you buy them. Ugghh. Well, I have no options left, and I think I'm through the worst of it. I wait for a window with nobody ahead and gingerly head back downhill. I stay way to the right, just along the right berm, figuring I can use it in case of further emergency. Thankfully no further sliding occurs, and the convoy marches slowly downhill to safety.
Pulled off Base Line at about 8:30 AM, ready for an excellent day. Snow just past the second tunnel, no problem through the village, but Uh Oh- why are all these cars with equipment on them heading back downhill? My heart sank. Problems ahead. Indeed- CHP is up there, turning people around. CRAP. I have to know.
"Six car pileup ahead. Road's closed."
"How Long?"
"All day long."
"Really? All day?"
"Really."
Well, crap. I HAVE to ride today. I can be at Mt. High in an hour. I head down the road, and am about to get back on the 210, when a little voice inside my head hits the STOP button and I pull over and think this through. No way do I want to spend this, THE powder day of the season, at frigging Mt. High. The road will open. It has to. The CHP was being about as honest as John Edwards; what does he care about my need to snowboard. I call the resort. "We'll be open by 11. Go the Mt. Baldy Lodge, get a beer, and wait for the road." I tell her that was probably just about the best advice in the long history of advice. I go back to the closure, wait about 90 minutes for it to open, then convoy up slowly. It's another 45 minutes to the resort, I park in the Bowling Alley because the line into the lot isn't moving. Hike to the ticket window, miraculously beat the line there by a couple of minutes (remember everyone has just arrived at the same time), wait a few for Chair 1, and my day begins around noon.
Riding up 1 I see and hear people coming down Bentley's and Nightmare hooting and hollering. Oh yeah. Get to the top, and start to hike up to the top of 2 to drop down into the fire road, when I see a patroller. I ask about 3, he says it'll open in 10 minutes. First set of chairs on Thunder? Yes, please. I beeline down and get on probably the 20th chair up.
There's something magical about dropping into your first run of the day, feeling yourself float, and letting the realization hit that This Will Be Special. I surf the thousand-foot wave of Emile's backhand on the west side of the canyon, every turn a dreamy reminder of why we do this sport. There is stoke, and there is STOKE. Experiencing the latter, I cannot help but to hoot uncontrollably down. This is what we live for. This is why Mt. Baldy is special. I get to the bottom with an ear-to-ear grin, get back on, and do it all again down the liftline. The mountain is alive with shouts of joy from all directions.
Now it's time to go explore what isn't obvious from the lift. Goldridge can't be touched much yet, and I'm right. I lap the trees here, finding untracked turns for a couple of hours. Magical.
I wonder about the runs to the lot. They have to be tracked out. Have to be. Still- I gotta try them out. Up Chair 2 and down the road, and I drop into Morgan's. I was wrong. Plenty of virgin snow here. I get over to Bentley's- same deal. It occurs to me that I go blind with every turn. It takes a moment to understand- this is this "blower pow" that those privileged fellows up in Utah speak of. Methinks I approve. This isn't champagne powder, but it'll do quite nicely, thank you. I cut over far to the left and enjoy the rest of this miraculous run, traversing high to the left and dropping straight down to the now-minimal liftline. I head up 1 and repeat the process, glad to be alive for this day.
I go check out Goldridge again, and it's still good in there but getting harder not to cross others' lines. It's about 3:45 now, not much time left. I see people walking up from under the chair, and I first assume they've poached South Bowl. Then it occurs to me: Oh No, I forgot all about the Tube! I gotta get over there! The entrance is guarded by a huge winddrift off Skyline- if you didn't know it was there, you couldn't see the run. For this reason, it is essentially untouched but for a few lonely tracks here and there. I have time for two runs through here, enjoying this huge halfpipe of powder in perfect solitude.
Up Chair 2, and I get ready for my final parking lot run of the day. Another boarder approaches. "I've never been here before, are you going to the parking lot?" I smile and tell him to follow. I lead him to the drop into Bentley's, scouting a line of yet untouched snow. "This is unbelievable!" he says. Welcome to Mt. Baldy, my friend. I drop into another glorious run, stay high to the left, and ride down to my car, amazed to find that nobody has bounced off it. I strip off my gear, clear the 5 inches of new snow from the windows, and marvel about the day that has just happened. It ranks up there with experiences at Mammoth and Kirkwood. Not the best all-time, but way, way up there.
The fun ends and The Ugly here begins. I go to pull out of my spot and an employee comes running up to me yelling at me to stop. Huh? "We're only letting one car go every few minutes or else there's gonna be a pileup." Uhh, OK. I wait my turn, and head off at about 5 mph in low gear when given the go ahead. Cars are parked on both sides. I see people sliding. Uh oh. I'm barely moving at all, and tap the brake, when it hits me, Dear Lord, I'm sliding too. I muster all the driving skill I've picked up over the years, tapping the gas here, tapping the brake there, wheel here, wheel there, and manage to make a semi-controlled zigzag slide down the bowling alley of cars without hitting anyone. This is no small miracle. Ego and vehicle intact, I get out of the fall line, and decide that while my AWD handles great without chains, these M+S tires have no downhill traction on this malevolent conspiracy of snow and ice. My chains have sat unused in the trunk for years, and it's time to recruit them into action.
Horror of horrors, I soon realize, these chains don't even come close to fitting. I check the box and my tires again. Yup, they match. The manufacturer has put the wrong cables in the box. So THIS is why they say to always check them after you buy them. Ugghh. Well, I have no options left, and I think I'm through the worst of it. I wait for a window with nobody ahead and gingerly head back downhill. I stay way to the right, just along the right berm, figuring I can use it in case of further emergency. Thankfully no further sliding occurs, and the convoy marches slowly downhill to safety.
