We’ve been watching this one for days now, ever since the moisture plume wound up and fired a high hard one from Hawaii up to the Northwest coast. A ridge of high pressure held fast all along the west coast, blocking storms, giving California a drought and Puget Sound the sunniest, driest January I could remember in twenty years. And, snow stopped falling in the rockies, about two weeks ago, threatening to stymie what had started as a bumper years for snow – 140% of normal through December.
But this Pineapple Express seemed to have the strength to punch through that ridge, and drench the entire western US with tropical wetness. Adding to the fun, the jet stream dropped down in response, ramming the storm with our Elk Mountains as dead center. The triple play was completed with cold Canadian air filling the void behind the jet, setting up one of the rare Big Dumps in the Aspen resorts.
Usually, we get dry little spritzles of snow, not unlike the afternoon thundershowers in July and August. 3-6 inches, often falling between 4 and 9 PM at night. Enough to keep the slopes covered, soft enough for vacationing skiers, but not near enough to satisfy a deep snow junkie. I’d fallen hard for that addiction 35 years ago, with a year spent skiing every day in Utah’s Little Cottonwood Canyon, home to Alta and Snowbird. “The lifts are cheap [$5/day], The slopes are steep, The powder’s deep.” I went from competent slider to handling all conditions, all terrains, all depths of snow in 100 day.
And like the bicycle I leaned to ride when I was four, the ability to float through powder never left me. When the big storms come, I’m ready. I know how to fend off the wetness, the fogged up lenses, the strain on equipment and patience. But most of all, I know how to let my skis do the work underneath the snow. The trick is, soft snow cradles the skis, as long as you don’t try to do too much, as long as you ignore the grippy feelings around your boots, the sudden shifts in pressure from calf deep fluff to chopped up crud to mashed down packed powder.
Most skiers, new or unfamiliar with skiing in new and soft snow, try to fight it, try to power their way through the powder. That doesn’t work. Skis are designed to work with snow, not fight against it. Let ‘em ride, watch your balance, and remember it’s a soft surface if you do fall. All that’ is happening in my cerebellum, so I can just enjoy the ride, the softness, the feeling of purity and dance.
And skiing *while* it’s snowing, on top of (or more properly, within) all that fresh new snow, that’s the highest level of enjoyment. The falling snow muffles sounds, drives away the crowds, cocoons the senses, and fills in tracks as you go.
This storm hurled its first pitch about 3 AM today,. Since then, it’s been snowing pretty much an inch an hour ever since. Just before we drove to the slopes, I blew 5-6” of fresh snow off the driveway; when I returned, about 3 PM, I hit it for another 6”. And the weather mavens are saying this could go on for another 24 hours?
The Powder Skiers’ Code States, among other things, that when 4’ or more is waiting up on the Big Burn, one must be in line, ready to go at the base lift not less than 10 minutes before it opens. It goes on to state, there are no friends on powder days, no one owns a line, and never tell anyone where you’ve been or where you’re headed, except the buddies you expect to be with all day.
For me, on this day, that’s no one. cheryl and I did ride up the first lift together, but a corollary to “No Friends” is “No Spouses”. Luckily, Cheryl knows this, and willingly spent the first two hours of the day skiing on her own, finding her own lines, her own set of fun, while I pondered how best to enjoy the First Tracks laid out before me.
Often, on 6” mornings, I’ll head for the Burn, and blast down the open slope without stopping on run # 1, then just work the gullies and trees trying to get in at least 4 lift rides an hour.
Today, though, I realised, I’ve done that before. many times. I need to mix it up. So, I followed my bliss. First stop – Zugspitze, a bumpy black diamond (all the Burn runs are really easier than this), cruising at the bottom onto Sam’s Knob lift. I thought I’d try Powderhorn, but a rope across the entrance, with a closed sign deterred me. So I noodled down Max Park to the Burn lift, and did a top-to-bottom Garret Gulch. The Gulch is truly that – a creek bed starting at timberline, which looks like a mini, meaning very narrow, half-pipe. About half way down, it’s only one turn wide, and at points, bottlenecks around little ridges, forcing turns around the landforms. So it’s really only good for the first person down – every one else has to deal with the tracks he leaves, there’s no bail out option.
From there, back up the Burn lift and into the upper Burn trees, aiming ever left, until I was once again on top of Powderhorn. This run has no single character. It sits all by itself separated from the other Campground runs by a high ridge, and angles down overlooking East Snowmass Creek. Parts are gentle roller, parts are mogul face, parts are flat cat track – and never a smooth surface, the angles always changing, the direction always shifting. In the middle, there’s another gully, like the Gulch. When the trail was originally cut, in 1966, you could fly down into it, with no trees or bushes in the way. But over the years, they let all the vegetation grow back, so now the entrance is blocked, and the straight line through it is gone. But fins the right keyhole, and squirt around the bushes and fir trees, and it’s even more fun than Garett’s. Keep going a ways, more obstacles ahead, and then – Belly Grabber Pitch. Pretty steep, but it comes at the end of a 3600’ vertical drop, so hitting all my turns is always a challenge. Also, the temperature is usually 15-20 degrees higher than at the top, and I’m already sweating from the work, making for a pretty wet descent.
From there, it’s up the slow moving Campground lift, over to Sam’s Knob, down again to the Burn lift, and finally into KT Gully. Again, I’ve got first tracks in this cousin to Garett’s. But here, the challenge is not the narrowness. There is one tight spot as the slope lessens, but then, a cliff looms below, and getting around and down is the trick. On into the bottom of Rock Island, where the bumps are plentiful, sharp, and crooked. Skateboard Alley (another gully-esque spot), and finish down the bottom of Camp Three.
A long lunch with Cheryl, then over to Elk Camp, for a hike up to Longshot. In keeping with the theme of the day – nothing but black diamond first track – I aim far right to Burnt Mountain Glades, and the Split Tree section. Heaven, once again.
We eat a second lunch at the base of Two Creeks, then finish the day with bumps under the Elk Camp lift, bumps ‘n powder at Art’s Ulcer and Tom’s Trace on Alpine Springs, and a final ride down the bottom of the Knob, on usually forbidden Nastar Race Course, and Makaha Terrain Park. But no gates today in this on going dump, and the jumps and tables are barely visible above foot of new snow which has fallen since early morning.
At the end, a bonus thrill. There is so much snow falling so fast, and so few skiers ot today, that’ I’m getting fresh tracks on Fanny Hill, the easiest, most skied spot on the entire mountain. But today, I’m doodling till the end, even riding out to the parking lot on what is usually blacktop, but today is just another cat track.
The End. Not. It’s still snowing, and promises to be even more epic tomorrow. These are the days I live for, I have to enjoy them while I can.