Back in the City

It's been a chilly week at the bird, and I've been venturing out into the backcountry boundaries off of Gad II outside Snowbird. While it is a good 30 minuet trek from the gate to the peak it is well worth the grunt. A big open bowl that funnels down into the glades of White Pine, where freshies are still attainable even after a 2 week-long drought.

Earlier this week I decided to get in a few turns after work and thought I would take the park and ride on 8200. I ran into this chick wearing a pink onesie and we started talking, turns out she was skiing royalty, her highness Rachael Burks. I definitely have signed Burks poster in my bedroom from the Children of Winter premiere a couple of years ago. It reads "Arly, Skier girls rip!" And that we did. Such a treat!

This is the poster I have in my room:)

Skinning with Geno last Sunday in Little Cottonwood.

A months update

 I have been neglecting my powder diary, however not because there is lack of powder stories to be told but rather lack of time to reminisce. I'm home for the holidays after an epic week of finals, moving and powder skiing. 

Thursday night the Captain and Pete drove in to Salt Lake, took one look at my new house and determined we should spend the night with Gene in Park City.

Friday was an uneventful day of furniture shopping.

Saturday snowed 2" but we were skiing half a foot by the time we left. The Captain was pawned off on ole' Geno, and I was able to give Pete a proper tour of my new realms. We ponded the Circe and a little bit of mineral basin. We wen't to every extremes gate on the mountain, but to no avail, all closed for lack of visibility and avi danger. Pete in his ignorance launched a little cliff onto an unknown catwalk and experienced some notable compression. I missed the actual crash but looked up to see my brother trying to reposition his dangling goggles, only to relinquish on the ground. After he attained the composure to ski down to the lift, spitting out mucussy blood luggies, he proclaimed, I don't feel so hot. So I took him up to the warming hut to rest up (Later that night, his left cheek was a third bigger than his right, and he resembled a person injected with Novocain, however the Stud-Man was unavailable to be photographed). We reunited with our elders and were treated to Bob's "personal powder." *For privacy reasons the location of this powder will remain disclosed. Calling it a day we had some celebratory fish tacos at lone star.

Sunday was another undermined 3" day that skied more like 8." Gene left a few minuets before us and we pulled out around 8. We right on schedule for first chair when suddenly disaster striked. Dad falls vicim to the most treacherous turn in Pinebrook and sends the Volvo into a snow bank. Pete and I try feverishly to get him out, but we are undoubtably stuck. And it was dumping buckets! And the lifts open in 45minuets! We send out a few distress calls and 30 minuets later a good Samaritan pulls us out of the gutter and we are on our way. We finally board the chairs at about a quarter after, but the easy stuff has been devoured.  Gene, Pete and I were 7th, 8th & 9th in line when they dropped the rope to high baldy. On the hike up we were delayed by some guy who kept falling over and frenzied skiers pushing my skis out of position when I was trying to snap in, but finally we we're skiing the past 2 days accumulated powder. Gene generously gave me first tracks down the Eye of the Needles brother chute. We hurried down and back up the tram for a second lap and another virgin chute. Beautiful. Face shots everywhere.

Monday (today) It snowed a foot over night and Little Cottonwood wasn't expected to open till 12:30. Seeing that we wanted to be on the road by noon the call was made to go to Deer Valley, which had received a humble 14" in the past 12 hours. We left the house at 7:28 caravanning Pete and Geno in the lead vehicle and me and the Captain in hot pursuit. Gene consumed in the chase soon lost me and the Capt. in the traffic but we eventually made it to the parking lot. We meet Bob, buy our tickets and get in line. The patrol then makes the announcement that this lift is too icy/dangerous to ride and probably wont be open for another 30. Gene and Bob crazed with the pursuit of powder enact plan B: drive to the top of the resort and get on the second tier of lifts. Hastily we jog in our ski boots back to the car and pile into Genes truck. Gene rear-ends a snow plow out of the parking lot, but unfazed retreats up the mountain behind Bob driving his stick shift in ski boots. We get to the top, unload and sprint for the Wasatch Express. While weren't the first in line we are still treated to freshies for several laps. Gene and Bob are meanwhile eyeing the rope on the sultan lift, and decide at about 11:30 that we should start waiting at the gate. 20 minuets later the ropes dropped and about 30 of us frantically scarf the virgin snow.  The slope is slightly steeper than the terrain on the Wasatch lift and because its more north facing the texture is sublime. Unfortunately it is the nature of resort powder skiing to compete for the best lines, making easy, leisurely skiing not optional. My quads protested for me to stop but I pushed through the burn.  I probably made 100 consecutively linked powder turns that first time down the Sultan. We proceeded to lap the run until it was deemed thrashed (about 7 runs later). This was by far some of the best skiing of my season. At Deer Valley! Who'd a thunk it?

The captain lost the 2nd run down sultan.

Last Night's big dump: Snowman assemblers out of my Window.

It has been an epic pre-thanksgiving weekend. We are currently in the middle of a five day storm. Today Peruvian opened and the Peruvian chutes were the steepest and deepest skied this season. This morning we tried to beat the lines, but failed due to an emergency bagel stop. We caught the second tram, and had fresh tracks down little cloud bowl (because everyone was ripping Peruvian we learned too late). Sam and I lost Jessy the first run and proceeded to lap our "secret stash" we discovered yesterday, which amounts to an untracked groomer with about a foot of pow. We then took a lunch break and I met up with Michael, who finally had the curtsey to take me to the Peruvian Chutes. We got two laps on that then decided to out maneuver the crowds out of the canyon. (This attempt was also in vain) It took us an hour to get out of the canyon, and I'll be needing my snow tires promptly. 

However, I really have no complaints because my two plunges down the Peruvian Chutes were bottomless chasms of pleasure, and I'm ditching calc to ski them again tomorrow! Also, very exciting news, the infamous Ryan Piles is arriving late tonight from Weed to rip it up with me at the bird! I haven't had the pleasure of shredding with Mr. Piles since the unfortunate collar bone misadventure last December. Should be nothing less than epic. It will be my last day until after the holiday. Me, Cindy and Ryan will be Gunnison bound on Tuesday afternoon. Can't wait to see the folks back home! Reunited with one of 

my favorite shredders eva, the steazy Ryan Piles.

Snow Where

I'm living the dream: I've got a season pass to the bird, amiable ski-buddies, and a Tuesday-Thursday schedule at Westminster College. Snowbird opened her lift lines yesterday, for the best-first day of my life. A 28 inch base with some left over freshies from last Tuesday was equivalent to a January ski day back home.

Jessy, Sam and I pulled into the parking lot around 11 and as Jessy and Sam went to get their passes,  I bee-lined for the tram. My first run of the year did not disappoint as I reacquainted myself with my skis, making sweeping slalom turns down Regulator. Even after a seven month summer spell, the motions are retained in moments. My second run I meet up with Michael and the gang and we call a safety meeting* in the woods near Gadzoom. We exploit little powder stashes haphazardly located between tree stumps and rocks. In the tram line I receive a text from Jessy saying her hams hurt and that she is stranded in the lodge. I run into Sam on the Tram and we decide to go visit our injured friend. Jessy is done for the day, but allows us to take one more run, then call it a day. We take Devan with us and the three of us rip it up. We then elect to take one more last run. After that we can't help but hit that one rock one more time, and by the time we finally make it back to the car it is 4. Sorry Jessy! It is November the 14th in the two thousand and tenth year of our lord, and I'm not just anywhere, I'm snow where.