Yep, it's the end...but only of the lift-served season, that is. I'm already making plans to hike with my kid at Alta this weekend. :lol:
(This is another of my infamous photo-fest two-parters -- click here for Part 2, for the second half of the photos only.)
Marc_C and I dropped my car at Alta's Wildcat lot at 8:30 am, and by the time we got back to the Bird at 8:45 Lot 2 was already full! :shock: Sure, I knew it was going to be packed -- that's why I picked up today's lift ticket on Saturday afternoon -- but this was more than either of us expected. We ultimately found a spot next to the parking garage between the Cliff Lodge and the Wasatch Powderbirds heliport, and walked over to the Tram Plaza where, sure enough, the ticket line was clear back across the plaza. Tony, if you're still wondering if Snowbird is making any money on this extended season, stop wondering now.
A Dixieland jazz band played patriotic tunes to celebrate the Independence Day holiday, and the Tram cabins swept up and down the hill adorned with American flags flapping in the breeze. Dale and Pat showed up, and up the full Tram we went. With today's crowd the Tram ran non-stop back-to-back. The pitch from the Tram summit station down to the top of Little Cloud is now devoid of snow, replaced instead with the commonplace Wasatch sharp-edged rubble. Everybody downhiked to Little Cloud...everybody save for one nutcase, that is, who came screaming down the bare pitch on skis, leaving curls of P-tex strewn in his wake. The appreciative crowd roared with applause.
And that set the stage for the day -- craziness, zaniness, and just a stinkin' huge lot of people out to say that they skied on the 4th of July. One group set up a charcoal BBQ atop The Grove, and even invited us to pull in for a burger and beer. We gratefully declined, saving our appetite for our own holiday BBQ planned for the base of Alta at the end of the day.
We only managed three laps on Little Cloud, for the line snaked back 40 to 45 minutes on each run. Combine that with the 12-minute lift ride and a 10-minute ski down, and you were nearly up to 75 minutes per lap. Even one fistfight nearly broke out in the line before cooler heads in the crowd convinced the combatants to chill out and enjoy the vibe of skiing in July. The river in Gad Valley was opening up at the base of the chair -- even in the liftline -- and a dozen or so lunatics set up their own impromptu pond skimming contest to entertain the crowd. They were playing it safe, though, starting their run-in so high on the hill that everyone we watched made it across the 20 feet of icy open stream.
This was a day, though, when the best plans were not to be. Bob never called or showed up -- we have no idea what happened to him. He was to be my partner skiing down into Mineral Basin, skinning up to Sugarloaf Pass and down into Alta. Neither Marc_C nor Dale nor Pat were interested. So I gave Marc_C my planned route details, bid him farewell, and made arrangements to meet at the Wildcat parking lot before diving over the edge into Mineral. It's my understanding that I caused quite the commotion atop Little Cloud: "Hey, dude...where the hell are you going??"
Those few early turns in south-facing Mineral were among the best of the day before I hung a hard left to traverse across the face beneath the Mineral Basin Express chair, trying to stay high on the hill to minimize my skin up to the pass. I watched the University of Utah Air Med heli land on Hidden Peak just above my head before the wonderful silence enveloped me. The air was still and I baked under the hot July sun. The only sounds heard were an occasional bird and sounds of my own movement, the latter accentuated to seemingly ear-splitting levels. The loneliness was a welcome respite from the in-bounds crowds.
I reached the end of my traverse, strapped on skins and began the short climb to Sugarloaf Pass. I was now entering Alta Ski Area, closed for the season since April 17. Instead of continuing up to the Devil's Castle traverse, I stripped the skins from my skis at the pass and dropped down to Devil's Elbow, where I encountered the only soul I saw on my entire journey, another skier skinning up. The conditions were nothing like what Bob and I experienced last week, as the sun cups were unforgiving this time, but the adventure factor far outweighed the skiing quality. I headed into Cecret Saddle and found soft corn on a south-facing aspect dropping down to Cecret Lake, then climbed back out on the lake's north side and worked my way down Rollercoaster across a diminishing snowpack. By the time I arrived at the base of the Sugarloaf chair I stepped across my first brown spots, and headed down into the shelter of the trees lining what I thought was Little Cottonwood Creek to link more patches of snow.
But it wasn't Little Cottonwood Creek, it was merely a tributary coming down from the vicinity of Yellow Trail. By the time I saw the true creek, and realized my error, I was well below any remaining snow bridge to get across the raging water. Once I finally ran out of snow I began to trudge down the west bank of the creek, figuring that if I had to I could stay on the stream's left bank all the way to the Wildcat base area. After fighting my way through some thick brush I was relieved to see that I didn't have to, for one solid snow bridge remained at the base of Greeley Hill. I crossed over to Home Run and enjoyed a much more relaxed hike down toward Albion base.
The final pitch down underneath the Sunnyside chairlift revealed one unexpected last patch of snow. I removed the skis from my pack and made some final turns, slaloming between kids on sleds. I then walked the remaining mile along the Transfer Tow back to the Wildcat base where I met up with Marc_C and Karen for our BBQ.
But where were Dale and Pat? The scatterbrains, who both forgot their ski poles today, both apparently forgot about the BBQ, too. No matter, it was their loss as we fired up the grill for bratwurst and Italian sausage & peppers. Hard-earned beers were enjoyed as we watched skiers returning from runs down Baldy Main Chute, Corkscrew and Wildcat Gulch, routes that I should have considered instead of my own. Passers-by said Main Chute skied wonderfully, and Wildcat Gulch had solid snow all the way to the base.
So, another lift-served Utah season is now in the can. Now we're left only with our own low-speed quads. :wink:
(Again, this is a two-part post. The first half of the photos are below. Click here for Part 2, for the second half of the photos only. Any replies belong here in Part 1, and Part 2 is therefore locked to replies.)
(This is another of my infamous photo-fest two-parters -- click here for Part 2, for the second half of the photos only.)
Marc_C and I dropped my car at Alta's Wildcat lot at 8:30 am, and by the time we got back to the Bird at 8:45 Lot 2 was already full! :shock: Sure, I knew it was going to be packed -- that's why I picked up today's lift ticket on Saturday afternoon -- but this was more than either of us expected. We ultimately found a spot next to the parking garage between the Cliff Lodge and the Wasatch Powderbirds heliport, and walked over to the Tram Plaza where, sure enough, the ticket line was clear back across the plaza. Tony, if you're still wondering if Snowbird is making any money on this extended season, stop wondering now.
A Dixieland jazz band played patriotic tunes to celebrate the Independence Day holiday, and the Tram cabins swept up and down the hill adorned with American flags flapping in the breeze. Dale and Pat showed up, and up the full Tram we went. With today's crowd the Tram ran non-stop back-to-back. The pitch from the Tram summit station down to the top of Little Cloud is now devoid of snow, replaced instead with the commonplace Wasatch sharp-edged rubble. Everybody downhiked to Little Cloud...everybody save for one nutcase, that is, who came screaming down the bare pitch on skis, leaving curls of P-tex strewn in his wake. The appreciative crowd roared with applause.
And that set the stage for the day -- craziness, zaniness, and just a stinkin' huge lot of people out to say that they skied on the 4th of July. One group set up a charcoal BBQ atop The Grove, and even invited us to pull in for a burger and beer. We gratefully declined, saving our appetite for our own holiday BBQ planned for the base of Alta at the end of the day.
We only managed three laps on Little Cloud, for the line snaked back 40 to 45 minutes on each run. Combine that with the 12-minute lift ride and a 10-minute ski down, and you were nearly up to 75 minutes per lap. Even one fistfight nearly broke out in the line before cooler heads in the crowd convinced the combatants to chill out and enjoy the vibe of skiing in July. The river in Gad Valley was opening up at the base of the chair -- even in the liftline -- and a dozen or so lunatics set up their own impromptu pond skimming contest to entertain the crowd. They were playing it safe, though, starting their run-in so high on the hill that everyone we watched made it across the 20 feet of icy open stream.
This was a day, though, when the best plans were not to be. Bob never called or showed up -- we have no idea what happened to him. He was to be my partner skiing down into Mineral Basin, skinning up to Sugarloaf Pass and down into Alta. Neither Marc_C nor Dale nor Pat were interested. So I gave Marc_C my planned route details, bid him farewell, and made arrangements to meet at the Wildcat parking lot before diving over the edge into Mineral. It's my understanding that I caused quite the commotion atop Little Cloud: "Hey, dude...where the hell are you going??"
Those few early turns in south-facing Mineral were among the best of the day before I hung a hard left to traverse across the face beneath the Mineral Basin Express chair, trying to stay high on the hill to minimize my skin up to the pass. I watched the University of Utah Air Med heli land on Hidden Peak just above my head before the wonderful silence enveloped me. The air was still and I baked under the hot July sun. The only sounds heard were an occasional bird and sounds of my own movement, the latter accentuated to seemingly ear-splitting levels. The loneliness was a welcome respite from the in-bounds crowds.
I reached the end of my traverse, strapped on skins and began the short climb to Sugarloaf Pass. I was now entering Alta Ski Area, closed for the season since April 17. Instead of continuing up to the Devil's Castle traverse, I stripped the skins from my skis at the pass and dropped down to Devil's Elbow, where I encountered the only soul I saw on my entire journey, another skier skinning up. The conditions were nothing like what Bob and I experienced last week, as the sun cups were unforgiving this time, but the adventure factor far outweighed the skiing quality. I headed into Cecret Saddle and found soft corn on a south-facing aspect dropping down to Cecret Lake, then climbed back out on the lake's north side and worked my way down Rollercoaster across a diminishing snowpack. By the time I arrived at the base of the Sugarloaf chair I stepped across my first brown spots, and headed down into the shelter of the trees lining what I thought was Little Cottonwood Creek to link more patches of snow.
But it wasn't Little Cottonwood Creek, it was merely a tributary coming down from the vicinity of Yellow Trail. By the time I saw the true creek, and realized my error, I was well below any remaining snow bridge to get across the raging water. Once I finally ran out of snow I began to trudge down the west bank of the creek, figuring that if I had to I could stay on the stream's left bank all the way to the Wildcat base area. After fighting my way through some thick brush I was relieved to see that I didn't have to, for one solid snow bridge remained at the base of Greeley Hill. I crossed over to Home Run and enjoyed a much more relaxed hike down toward Albion base.
The final pitch down underneath the Sunnyside chairlift revealed one unexpected last patch of snow. I removed the skis from my pack and made some final turns, slaloming between kids on sleds. I then walked the remaining mile along the Transfer Tow back to the Wildcat base where I met up with Marc_C and Karen for our BBQ.
But where were Dale and Pat? The scatterbrains, who both forgot their ski poles today, both apparently forgot about the BBQ, too. No matter, it was their loss as we fired up the grill for bratwurst and Italian sausage & peppers. Hard-earned beers were enjoyed as we watched skiers returning from runs down Baldy Main Chute, Corkscrew and Wildcat Gulch, routes that I should have considered instead of my own. Passers-by said Main Chute skied wonderfully, and Wildcat Gulch had solid snow all the way to the base.
So, another lift-served Utah season is now in the can. Now we're left only with our own low-speed quads. :wink:
(Again, this is a two-part post. The first half of the photos are below. Click here for Part 2, for the second half of the photos only. Any replies belong here in Part 1, and Part 2 is therefore locked to replies.)
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02 snowbird pat marc_c knucklehead 050704.jpg -
01 snowbird ticket line 050704.jpg
