Here for good time, not long time
After a succession of emails from the resorts throughout January and February and my mom announcing near-daily new snowfall in the mountains, I jumped on a last-minute deal to Utah with Jessica in search of the steep and deep. Such is the nature of ski trips that nature does not always comply. While storms belted the Bay area, we were peeling off layers, scrambling for extra sunscreen and apres-skiing outside on decks across the Wasatch Front. While Colorado had double-digits of freshies, we spent 45 minutes trapped in a back bowl at Snowbasin fresh with 2 inches over the hardest crust pack I'd seen since moving West.
But these were minor blips, conditions you settle for and then embrace as the days continue and your groove kicks in. You glide across the groomers testing your big GS turns with deep, carving S's, or swivel your skis as fast as you can to see how many turns you can make in one run. You discover the softest snow in a patch of trees or a sweet little steep pitch that holds your edge as you drive your skis into the mountain with each turn. And of course, there is always, ALWAYS apres-ski.
At Snowbasin, we stretched our legs on our first day, finding relatively fresh snow just below the peaks and in the trees; doing loops on the Mt. Allen tram and venturing over to the top of the women's downhill course from the 2002 Olympics. (Coincidentally, Miriam and I were at the bottom of the mountain the day they held the women's race, standing with what was then announced as the largest crowd to witness a women's downhill. Go sistahs!) It's a beautiful mountain with chutes and tree-skiing that rival Alta or Snowbird. The most striking thing was the old European glamour infused in the lodges. High ceilings, wood beams, exteriors constructed of wood and stone, 3-star bathrooms and wall-to-wall carpeting. It unnerved me for a mountain not Deer Valley and on the outskirts of Ogden no less. But the views were dead-on brilliant. It's a gorgeous mountain.
At Solitude we found warmer conditions, shorter runs and better snow. To make things interesting, we set 20 runs as our goal and whipped out the first 10 or so with relative ease. The groomies were immaculate and the bumps were already softening by 11. Working our way across the mountain and back, we dropped down into a long, steep pitch in Honeycomb Canyon for what proved to be Jessica's self-admitted "limit" but to her credit, she agreed to give it another go. The combination of the amount of runs and the type of skiing - lots of bumps - started to wear us out as we closed in on 20 so that while we were still tackling moguls our breathing was more pronounced, the legs a little more noodly, and the countdown (3 more to go, 2 more to go) a little more focused. At 20 we stopped for apres-ski 24 oz. PBRs and struck up a conversation with 2 guys sitting next to us. This lead to one more run - and my completely hot-dogging it - making it a Blackjack day. 21 and done.
Snowbird was Day 3 - an epic, awesome mountain. I spent so many years skiing Alta and cultivating my Alta snobbism that I forgot how cool Snowbird is. Or can be. (Even with snowboarders.) The conditions were varied - crust, soft, hard - so we were limited from accessing some of the better pitches off of Little Cloud and the Tram. But we found great stuff and accommodating moguls on Gad 2, Little Cloud and underneath the chairlift. The run-outs were brutal though. Nothing to grip, skis and boards sliding across with little control. The best you could do was make a few turns, point them and look for the bail out at the bottom. Still, I loved skiing the Bird. No lines, lots of terrain, and huge. I had no qualms being so close to Alta and skipping it. (Liz, if you're reading we need to try Snowbird next Christmas!)
All in all, it was 3 solid days on the mountains with lots of laughter and good skiing. The rest of the time was spent visiting with my mom,
cooking meals (healthy, healthy), drinking wine, walking around Park City, playing loooooong games of Scrabble, thrift shopping, watching movies and observing Utah culture.
And now we return to the Bay area as the rain continues. And the snow. And I suspect that in the next few days, as the storm rolls across Nevada and into Utah I'll receive my Alta Fresh Powder alert letting me know another 12 inches have fallen. And my mom will call to say she woke up to the city covered in white. That's just the luck of the draw when it comes to ski trips. You take the good, you take the bad, you take it all and there you have...the facts of life.
But these were minor blips, conditions you settle for and then embrace as the days continue and your groove kicks in. You glide across the groomers testing your big GS turns with deep, carving S's, or swivel your skis as fast as you can to see how many turns you can make in one run. You discover the softest snow in a patch of trees or a sweet little steep pitch that holds your edge as you drive your skis into the mountain with each turn. And of course, there is always, ALWAYS apres-ski. At Snowbasin, we stretched our legs on our first day, finding relatively fresh snow just below the peaks and in the trees; doing loops on the Mt. Allen tram and venturing over to the top of the women's downhill course from the 2002 Olympics. (Coincidentally, Miriam and I were at the bottom of the mountain the day they held the women's race, standing with what was then announced as the largest crowd to witness a women's downhill. Go sistahs!) It's a beautiful mountain with chutes and tree-skiing that rival Alta or Snowbird. The most striking thing was the old European glamour infused in the lodges. High ceilings, wood beams, exteriors constructed of wood and stone, 3-star bathrooms and wall-to-wall carpeting. It unnerved me for a mountain not Deer Valley and on the outskirts of Ogden no less. But the views were dead-on brilliant. It's a gorgeous mountain.At Solitude we found warmer conditions, shorter runs and better snow. To make things interesting, we set 20 runs as our goal and whipped out the first 10 or so with relative ease. The groomies were immaculate and the bumps were already softening by 11. Working our way across the mountain and back, we dropped down into a long, steep pitch in Honeycomb Canyon for what proved to be Jessica's self-admitted "limit" but to her credit, she agreed to give it another go. The combination of the amount of runs and the type of skiing - lots of bumps - started to wear us out as we closed in on 20 so that while we were still tackling moguls our breathing was more pronounced, the legs a little more noodly, and the countdown (3 more to go, 2 more to go) a little more focused. At 20 we stopped for apres-ski 24 oz. PBRs and struck up a conversation with 2 guys sitting next to us. This lead to one more run - and my completely hot-dogging it - making it a Blackjack day. 21 and done.Snowbird was Day 3 - an epic, awesome mountain. I spent so many years skiing Alta and cultivating my Alta snobbism that I forgot how cool Snowbird is. Or can be. (Even with snowboarders.) The conditions were varied - crust, soft, hard - so we were limited from accessing some of the better pitches off of Little Cloud and the Tram. But we found great stuff and accommodating moguls on Gad 2, Little Cloud and underneath the chairlift. The run-outs were brutal though. Nothing to grip, skis and boards sliding across with little control. The best you could do was make a few turns, point them and look for the bail out at the bottom. Still, I loved skiing the Bird. No lines, lots of terrain, and huge. I had no qualms being so close to Alta and skipping it. (Liz, if you're reading we need to try Snowbird next Christmas!)
All in all, it was 3 solid days on the mountains with lots of laughter and good skiing. The rest of the time was spent visiting with my mom,
cooking meals (healthy, healthy), drinking wine, walking around Park City, playing loooooong games of Scrabble, thrift shopping, watching movies and observing Utah culture.
Some snippets from our travels:
In SFO before flight Jessica heard the following exchange between 2 young, clean-cut (re: Mormon?) boys:
In SFO before flight Jessica heard the following exchange between 2 young, clean-cut (re: Mormon?) boys:
Boy 1: "This is a picture of the girl I'm trying to get to marry me."
Boy 2: "Yeah, I got married after high school and so far so good."
High school? Really?
On flight home from SLC:
Passenger 1: "So you support Sarah Palin?"
Passenger 2: "Oh yes. I cut her Assistant's hair when they were here. She's great."
I was asleep until this exchange permeated my inner wall of peace.
At bar in Solitude:
A Utard is what you call a Utahn idiot.
Um, this is pretty funny. But I DO love Utah!
Everywhere:
Big smiles, friendly greetings, a lot of genuine-seeming niceness. My snark was powerless.
Big smiles, friendly greetings, a lot of genuine-seeming niceness. My snark was powerless.
And now we return to the Bay area as the rain continues. And the snow. And I suspect that in the next few days, as the storm rolls across Nevada and into Utah I'll receive my Alta Fresh Powder alert letting me know another 12 inches have fallen. And my mom will call to say she woke up to the city covered in white. That's just the luck of the draw when it comes to ski trips. You take the good, you take the bad, you take it all and there you have...the facts of life.
But I would argue there is no BAD ski day. Only bad skiers. Lol.
Congratulations to Sarah Lavendar Smith for smoking a wet and rainy Napa Valley marathon with a 3.09 something a few weeks ago. You seem to set and surpass your goals with such regularity, I'm in awe.
UPDATE: Yes, of course. I got a fresh powder alert from Alta today. 10" of new since we left. My mom said the city is covered with snow, the skies are blue, and the mountains are sparkling under the sun. Agh.
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