Part Two:
Champagne on New Years Eve,
Utah Style
[You should read part one of this article first.]
01.27.04 - Now that we had settled into the groove, and slowly began coming to grips with our powder situation: 17” at Park City followed by a foot or so at the Canyons in two glorious days, it was time to ring in the New Year, Utah styles. Which turned out to be, well, a minor letdown given the high we were coming off of from the skiing. We cruised Main St in Old Town, Park City, and met up with the drunkards, shared our New Year’s hats with some ladies, and then crashed out after giving a hollah out to our New York City brethren who had just watched the ball drop.
New Year’s day on the mountain was also less than pristine. The impending monster dump of 2-4 feet in the mountains was preceded by the howling winds and fog indicative of a Major storm. The National Weather Service was hot on cranking up their alerts and Winter Storm Warnings, and through the magic of wireless access (thank you, Starbucks in Park City), we were able to track the progress of this nasty beast safely from the car seat of our rented Jeep Liberty. The forecasts were clear on one thing: snow, and lots of it. Holy sh*t, this was going to be the big one.
The geography of this area goes something like this: you’re skiing in the mountains about 30 minutes East of Salt Lake City, and there are two major canyons – the northern most mountains are where Park City and The Canyons resorts are, while south of this range lies the Big and Little Cottonwood canyons, each home to two different genres of resort: Solitude and Brighton, and Snowbird and Alta, respectively. The Cottonwood canyon roads often take a beating during storms and close periodically for avalanche control. (It’s interesting to note the various names given to the chutes where avalanches fall as you drive up). With visions of being snowed in and never making it back to work dancing through my mind, I made it a point to secure the provisioning we would need to withstand at least another week in the mountains prior to driving into Little Cottonwood for the remainder of our trip. Just in case this fairytale never ended, and we were forced to obey the “Interlodging” rules during a closed road, we were going to be prepared with our own private stock of Wasatch and Uinta brews. We bolted from the Old Town and ending up patiently waiting our place in the 10 mile traffic snarl up the road. It’s worth the trip.
Indeed it was. After a ridiculous wait in the tramline at Snowbird – the mountain was still partially closed because of snowdrift and wind – we had arrived. The Bird is gargantuan, on the same size scale as that of Mammoth, only with a more sinister undertone (YTD snowfall: 310”, mid mountain base: 94”). We were bummed that the Mineral Basin was closed, but found the lusciously lavish powder to be of a superior vintage - definitely a Grand Cru. Don’t get me wrong, there’s no way to play favorites in the situation that we were a part of, but sometimes you can feel the love. It was here that my form took shape, and we spent the afternoon shredding up the Little Cloud lift, with forages off the Cirque Traverse, on into the afternoon. We ended up literally skiing home to our BlackJack condo, making sure to cash in on some virgin crystal on the way down the traverse.
The call of the week, as it turns out, was Solitude on Saturday (YTD: 307”, mid mountain: 94”). We did not wait on a single lift line, and had a vigorous day on the slopes. We were the victors, and our spoils were the HoneyComb Canyon. It had to be traversed, but at the end of each trek was a magic carpet’s ride worth of point and shoot. This involves taking one’s skis and just pointing them in a downward fashion towards anything you would like to shoot towards, at the pace of your choosing, and without any fear. Far beyond what any video game designer can create lies skiing in this pure essence of feel. It is the high of highs, and is what brings you back to the same traverse, only to find, yet again, your own private and untouched path to glory, which you diligently and effortlessly glide down. Check, please!
Alta. Tall. High. Higher. I last laid eyes on her in a previous life – I was 10 years old and remember crying when I fell over and sunk in the powder upside down, hoping that my brother or ski instructor would pull me out of my predicament. This time around, the mountain and I were reunited in a joyous occasion and the only tears I shed were those of delight as I hopped down the chutes of Point Supreme, glided over the Greeley bowl, and got vivid off the freshies afforded by first chair at Wildcat Lift. She was far more intense than I remembered, and after a week of skiing the super fluff, it was an awakening of sorts to have your ass handed to you by the steep and narrow terrain of this Skier’s only paradise (YTD: 330”, mid mountain:86”). Veni. Vidi. Vici.
In roughly 20 years of chasing the monster dump in the perfect ski environment – basically what amounts to legend – I had begun to doubt what I was experiencing. In fact, a mild form of depression begins to take grip when it becomes apparent that this experience does not completely define your reality (oh, how many times I have pondered that it could!), but rather is just a fleeting instance in time. Well, for me at least. The bar has been set, and I’m afraid I’ll never jump that high again. It seems natural, when coming off such a high, to feel that you’re never gonna match the intensity, never gonna have that feeling again. So, this means that I am forever hooked, and will forever be in search of something better. Until then, I’ll grab a brew, the butane torch and the petex and start patching up my sticks. Once the hot wax has dried, and they feel all smooth to the touch, I’ll be ready for more. Gotta get up to get down.
~Rob Damus
FC Contributor
1.20.04 - Snow is an incredibly pleasing component of the winter season. It whitens our Christmas morning, closes school for hopeful youngsters, and opens the doors of a winter sports world that flourishes in its existence. Jay Peak 2003/2004 has taught me something else about snow. It seldom comes alone. There exists an evil so great that even Billy S, the leader of the Northeast Kingdom, has no weapon powerful enough to combat this force. Not a triple, nor a quad (not even a high-speed one), nor the almighty tram, could overcome this great threat to skiing...
Champagne On New Year's Eve - Utah Style
01.12.04
- One of the first indications that we had made the best decision for
being in the right place for New YearԳ since the ӹ5 MSG show was when
we were on Park CityԳ Town lift, heading up the Western side of this classic
Utah Ski Resort, and my brother and I looked down beneath our freshly
waxed dangling skis and heardǠnothing. Below us, hotshots floated down
the black diamond trail, Widowmaker, kicking up nothing but the purest
champagne powder I had ever laid eyes on and they were not making a sound.
The snow was too deep!
01.05.04
- The FC staff (equipped with new digital cameras, wide-angle lenses,
printers, snowboards, two-way radios, etc.) charged up to Jay Peak to
ring in the New Year. We had everything from Grandma’s Lasagna to
Theo’s Spanakopita and enough beer to wash down anything in between.
Only one problem: no snow. The warming trend over the last week saw periods
of fog, rain, and freezing rain effectively ruining the mountain for any
off-piste travelers.
12.28.03 - It was 9pm Saturday night when Chaz first brought up the idea
of an unprecedented December Big Jay run. But with 200” of snowfall
this season and the best December in Jay Peak history, the quintessential
back-country experience in the Jay area at least warranted an investigation.
By 10am Sunday morning we were in line for the tram and highly enthusiastic
about the adventure ahead. Temperatures in the mid to high 30’s,
gear on our backs, and thoughts of previous Big Jay mistakes and triumphs
clouded our minds while the tram brought us to “Elevation 4000”.
6th Chair, 1st
Chair, 1st Tram...
A Great Day
12.27.03
- Kamm, Stu, and I loaded onto the Jay Peak Jet Triple at 8:00am under
clear blue skies. We spent the next ten minutes debating whether the new
6”-12” beneath the chair was deep fluffy powder or frozen
hard pack ice. It snowed heavily two days earlier and the lifts had been
shut down ever since due to high winds. As we entered the trees of Timbuktu,
I was elated to see the formerly bumped-out glade had been wiped clean.
The intense wind from the day before had left a perfectly flat surface
on which a marble would likely have rolled back to the chairlift had I
dropped it from the top.
Older Archives
12.08.03 - Big Monday
12.07.03 - Anticipation
12.05.03 - Opening Day
11.22.03 - 10 Ideas to Kick the Pre-Season Blues
11.01.03 - Tech Tip #1: Pre-Season Tune-Up
10.04.03 - Tenney Mountain Opens – October
4th
09.01.03 - FC Magazine Launches Online Winter Home