Unexcused Absences

With forecast highs in the 40’s, spring skiing has officially arrived! Fortunately, our crew chiefs from the Talon Crew saw the same forecast, and called us a couple days in advance. “How about a ski day at Vail, we’ll pick you up on our way from Grand Junction (a few hours west of here)?” So we gathered our gear, and arranged a ski day at Vail with Sean and Kevin.

Spring day at Vail

In return for free parking (Sean’s mother lives in the town of Vail), we offered to cater lunch (spicy Italian sausages) at the grill-your-own spot at the top of Blue Sky Basin. As an added bonus, my friend Adam happened to be in Summit County (about 45 minutes east of here) and agreed to meet us at Vail for the day.

And what a day! Absolutely cloudless deep blue sky from horizon to horizon, 50-mile visibility, and nice warm temperatures – remember my “Degrees of Cold” post from a month ago?

I can’t stress “warm” strongly enough. While I didn’t do that well in my chemistry courses, I do know at some basic level that cold weather is necessary for prime ski conditions. That doesn’t change the fact that I simply love spring skiing. Yes, the snow is melting. Yes, the ski season will soon be over. But my body is finely tuned to the tropics, and no matter how hard I try I just can’t get used to really cold weather.

So while this day marked the beginning of the end of our winter adventure, it was deeply appreciated nonetheless!

Dusk over The Beav

The locals were getting restless. We hadn’t had a proper powder day in several weeks, and then about ten days ago the rumors started floating. “Looks like it might snow next weekend.” “I hear it’s going to be big.” “The dynamics look good.” “This should last several days.”

Mrs. Vacation and I decided to take last Friday off and go to Vail, something that seems surprisingly difficult to coordinate, considering that we live about 5 miles away. There is no doubt about it, we are spoiled; we have slopeside lockers at Beaver Creek, and we can walk to the free shuttle bus that takes us directly to the slopes, so it becomes a whole rigmarole to ski anywhere else.  We have to drive up the evening before, unload our lockers, pile all the gear in the car, bring it all down the hill, organize everything for the next day, etc.  Spoiled.

Heather skiing Vail’s Outer Mongolia Bowl

We got first chair at Vail, so had already taken a couple runs by 9am.  The day started off sunny, but rapidly clouded over, and by 10am it was snowing.  We worked our way over the top of the mountain to the famed Back Bowls.  By 11am it was dumping.  We kept heading east, farther and farther from the main area.  We traversed a long way over to a small surface lift that served an area called Mongolia Bowl, then from the top traversed some more, way beyond what was reasonable to traverse.  By this time the snow was up to our boot-tops.  The tracks down the mountain became fewer and fewer.  At one point we had to climb a small rise, which apparently no one else was willing to do, because at the top we were rewarded with a pristine field of untracked snow!

Alone in Outer Mongolia

At the bottom we discovered one of the reasons the field was untracked; the traverse out was as long as the traverse in.  No matter, we had an untracked snowfield all to ourselves at a ski resort that typically sells 15,000 to 20,000 tickets per day! We made several more laps through Outer Mongolia, each lap a combination of trudge-trudge-trudge, followed by wheeeeee!!!, followed by more trudge-trudge-trudge.

Stone Creek Chutes, Beaver Creek

That day was just the appetizer.  The following day (Saturday) the mountains were reporting close to a foot and a half of new snow.  I had Race Department duties to perform, but Heather got out and reported some fantastic skiing.  It continued to snow all day and all night.  Sunday we got a little sunlight, but by afternoon the snow had started again.

Top of Larkspur Bowl, Beaver Creek

Early Monday morning found us at the top of Beaver Creek, witnessing something we had never experienced before.  The 6 or so inches of fresh powder were so light that you could barely feel the resistance against your feet and legs.  Heather described it as skiing through heavy air.  It was a really interesting and amazing sensation.  And the snow continued to fall.

Heather in Sun Up Bowl

Tuesday morning the mountains were reporting a foot of fresh, and still the snow fell (this was the 5th day in a row).  We headed back to Vail because I wanted to get something that I had been waiting since 1983 to have; first tracks down Vail’s Back Bowls.  We didn’t get first chair, but we were in the first wave, and because the back bowls cover thousands of acres, we found a 1500 foot untracked descent of Ricky’s Ridge in the endless sea of powder that is the Sun Down Bowl.

Kent skiing Shangri La

We worked our way east, skiing Campbell’s and Over Yonder in the Sun Up Bowl, then Sweet N Sour down into Tea Cup Bowl, several laps in Shangri La Glades (China Bowl), a run down Bolshoi Ballroom in Siberia Bowl, and then the trudge-trudge-wheee! of Inner Mongolia Bowl.  At this point Heather wanted a break, so we agreed to meet at Two Elk Lodge after one more run.

Hot Tub!

I had seen evidence of the wind blowing from the west during the night’s snowfall, so I figured the east side of the ridge, down in the hollow, would have the biggest snow drifts.  I’m happy to report that all my years of college were not wasted, my deductive reasoning was sound, and I found myself all alone in thigh-deep untracked powder.  It is totally worth it to devote years of your life to become a (somewhat accomplished) skier so you can experience a day like this one.

Finally, after 5 straight days of snow, the sun came out Tuesday afternoon.  Now all that’s left of the day was to enjoy the benefits of our condo’s hot tub!

Ball-o-Powder

Powder Day Lift Lines for First Tracks

Minus 13 degrees - in the sun!

I am learning this winter about different stages of cold. For instance, right now Avon, Colorado is colder than Sweden. The National Weather Service has posted a “Hazardous Weather Outlook” because of the cold.

This latest blast of truly Arctic cold is all part of the massive winter storm enveloping the entire mid-section of the USA. In the words of the Vail Daily, “records will be broken.” The top of Beaver Creek mountain was closed today because of the cold. By knowledgeable reports it was -35 degrees at the summit this morning. A ski slope closed because of cold?!? Al Gore, would you care to comment?

Thank goodness we have today and tomorrow off. We are becoming very acquainted with the inside of our condo – at least the parts that are within a 10-foot radius of the fireplace. So far, this is how I break down the degrees of cold:

• Temps in the 40’s – spring skiing!
• Temps in the 30’s – ears get cold, time to put on a hat
• Temps in the 20’s – skiing is really good at this temperature
• Temps in the teens – great outdoor conditions for the Rockies, not so much for New England
• Temps in the single digits – the inside of my nose freezes when I inhale
• Temps in the minus single digits – skis cease to slide very well
• Temps in the minus teens – this is getting pretty uncomfortable
• Temps in the minus 20’s – I’m now openly rooting for Global Warming

COLD!

There was apparently a nasty dose of “wintery mix” in the DC area a couple days ago. The Facebook stream had lots of talk about multi-hour commutes, frozen roads, and sketchy driving conditions. This made me smile, when I thought back to our own “winter storm warning” here in Beaver Creek a few days ago.

Winter Storm Warning

I don’t have that much to report of any great consequence, other than a winter storm warning has different connotations when you live walking distance to a major ski resort. A few highlights of our day were a temperature of 1 degree (F), blowing wind and snow, and occasional whiteout conditions. This was certainly not like the days they depict in the travel brochures. One bright spot; the slopes were almost vacant.

Snow

We took the opportunity to familiarize ourselves with some of the more remote sections of the resort, and found some pockets of relative calm in the Bachelor Gulch and Arrowhead sections of the mountain. We finished up with a run down the Birds of Prey downhill course, which was definitely not so calm. The good news is that the normally severe left-leaning cant to the slope, which tends to suck the unsuspecting skier into the trees, was countered by the 40 mph wind coming up the hill, partially canceling out the effect of gravity and keeping one on a (relatively) straight line.

All is well now, as the forecast is for mild and sunny conditions for the next three days.

This morning I woke up to snow (Heather is due in later today from DC).  We’ve actually had a number of snowy mornings, but today I finally had some time to write about it, after all our training, working, and just generally being busy.  More on today’s skiing later in the post.  First, a little background.

For non-skiers reading this, a powder day is very special.  A great day of normal skiing is terrific, but a powder day is sublime.  There’s a special excitement hearing, through the fog of sleep, a snowplow scrape by at 3am.  It means that when morning comes, life will be very, very good.

It’s difficult to explain, exactly, why skiing in powder is so much better than anything else.  For those of you who caught my earlier post, where I said that windsurfing was my number one favorite sport, I’ll have to amend that statement.  Powder skiing is number one, windsurfing is number two, and regular skiing is my third favorite (although ask me after a north-shore wave-sailing session on Maui and I may just change my mind again!)

A powder day unleashes unspeakable joy.  Maybe it’s the way the normally firm boundary between ski and slope dissolves into a sensation of floating.  Words fail at this point, because “floating” isn’t quite right.  Neither are “skimming”, “gliding”, or any of the other synonyms, so I’ll try to describe it.  You push against your ski, and the mountain pushes back, but gently.  Very gently.  No vibrations, no harsh sensations, just… a feather pillow wrapped in flannel.

A couple weeks ago we had a powder morning, and we actually got first, I mean absolute first, tracks down Gold Dust (a nice intermediate pitch that drops from mid-mountain).  The slope had been groomed the evening before, and about 8 inches of snow had fallen overnight.  Imagine the most perfect snowfield you’ve ever seen, tipped at a decent angle, and no one else around.  Heather and I skied about half way down and then fell into each other’s arms, laughing and smiling.

For me, this was the moment our adventure became real.  Up until then it had been a blur of getting organized, packing, driving across country, working the World Cup races, going through new hire training, but now it was real.  We were living at a major ski resort.  We were out on a perfect powder day, all alone.  After years of dreaming about it, thinking about it, and talking about it, we had finally done it.

Please don’t wait too long to take your adventure, whatever it is.

And now back to this morning.  As predicted yesterday, a storm moved in overnight.  Beaver Creek was reporting 5 inches by 6am, and it was still snowing when I woke up.  At the top, where the trees and terrain catch the wind, there were closer to 10 inches by the time I reached the summit at 8:55am.  A traverse over to the Golden Eagle men’s downhill course, a drop to the right where the powder would be deepest, and there it was, that impossible to describe sensation of absolute bliss.  First tracks down a steep, snowy pitch.  This was just the first of many great powder runs this morning.

Top of Ripsaw, barely tracked at 11am

Two hours later, things are beginning to get tracked out.  I contemplate heading back to the condo to put in some time on the computer, but decide to take a run down Ripsaw, an uncrowded, off-the-radar expert slope at the far eastern edge of The Beav.  It’s off the radar because you access it by skiing through some pretty tame beginner runs.  And it lives up to its billing.  It’s two and a half hours since the mountain opened, yet I still have sections of untracked powder to work with.  At the bottom, I glance farther to the east and see two skiers emerge from the runout of the Stone Creek Chutes, which gives me an idea.

Now, Beaver Creek is known as a luxury, guest-services-oriented resort, with lots of grooming, expensive restaurants, and $3,000 ski outfits.  But that’s just what the brochures try to sell you.  Luckily for those who know where to look, there is some pretty serious terrain located in-bounds.  And not just “serious” by luxury resort standards.  I mean “serious” as in make-a-wrong-turn-and-end-up-in-the-hospital serious.  Steep chutes where the bottom-suddenly-drops-out-and-you’re-over-a-20-foot-cliff serious.

Entrance to Stone Creek Chutes

I had heard about the Stone Creek Chutes from several locals, and seen them in Warren Miller movies.  But they’re so far removed from the main skiing areas on Beaver Creek, I had never really thought about them.  The entrance is through a gate tucked off to the edge of a really tame beginner run at the summit.  I had passed the gate several times before, while teaching a class, and never seen it.  But now that I’m looking for it, here it is.  I figure I’ll just ski through to the access road above the cliffs, and scope things out from above, then come back with a ski patroller or local some other day before dropping in (safety first!).  But both the mind and circumstance play funny tricks, as we’re about to see.

I start down the access ridge, a fun run in itself, passing chutes on my right every 75 yards or so with names like 1st Chance, 2nd Chance, 1/2 Chance, and No Chance.  I ski up to the edge of a couple and look down through my ski tips at the tops of large pine trees directly below me.  And it’s snowing, dumping actually.  It is very, very quiet.  The falling snow is so thick I can’t even hear my own breathing.  The snow in the air, on the trees, on the ground, is absorbing every last bit of sound.  My ears are actually ringing from the quiet.  The chutes look fun, but I tell myself to turn away and come back with someone another day.

Another 100 yards, and here is a sign pointing right that says “Last Chance” next to two black diamonds, and beside it a sign with a green dot pointing left that says “Cinch.”  The person who put those two signs together was particularly cruel.  Cinch is listed on the Beaver Creek trail map as “easiest way down,” and no self-respecting skier is ever going to take the “easiest way down.”

I know, at an intellectual level, that it’s important to ski with a partner on out-of-the-way extreme terrain.  This section of the mountain is probably a quarter mile wide, with steeps, woods, cliffs, and almost no traffic.  Skiing here without a partner and getting injured would be the height of irresponsibility.  And yet my alternative is the shame of “easiest way down.”  Then an idea!  Oh please oh please oh please let there be cellphone coverage… take the phone from my pocket, flip it open, and YES!  Three bars.  At least I won’t be lost in here forever if something should go wrong (assuming I can still operate my right arm to reach for my cellphone).

Looking up at Last Chance Chute

Smiling now, I work over to the dropoff and peer down.  No other tracks today.  I’ll have first tracks on a sweet sweet sweet chute.  Skiers dream of this moment their whole lives.  Take a deep breath, and… go!  The powder is not quite bottomless, but it sure feels nice.  Make some turns down a section a few ski-lengths wide, thread through some volkswagen-sized boulders, then into the main gully as it broadens into the valley.  Stop, catch my breath, and take a photo (which does not even remotely do the place justice).

There are steeper chutes (Mt. Rose in Nevada), longer chutes (Alta in Utah), narrower chutes (Solitude in Utah), but at this moment none of that matters.

I made it, I’m all alone on a beautiful powder day, and I’m smiling so hard my face hurts.