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Outside magazine, Travel Guide 1997-1998
Wherein steep becomes the mantra
EXTREME MEASURES | BUNK TO BUNK | DETAILS | THE SNOW FINDER | ESSENTIAL GEAR
The beauty of becoming an expert is this: The whole mountain is yours. Not just the black-diamond parts — everything. Named and unnamed, chutes, trees, rocks, sky. Skis become tools of self-expression, and you begin to see snow in a painterly light. You crave complex, dramatic terrain; you feed off the energy in exploration. You find yourself
You might, for example, get “interlodged” at Alta. This happens when a storm pounds up Little Cottonwood Canyon and they have to close the road from Salt Lake City and shoot down the avalanches. No one is allowed outside the lodges while the shells fly overhead, so you might have to bivouac on the floor at Alta’s Rustler Lodge — but you will certainly be among the first
Or you may be at Alta when the sky refuses to snow. It happens, even at a place that averages 500 inches a season. But at Alta it’s okay, because the terrain is so varied, so huge, there will always be good sliding somewhere. I hit Alta once during a two-week drought. Wind flung snow like white prayer flags from the ridges. But as one exposure was stripped, its opposite
But we didn’t return to that particular spot; there were too many other hunches to follow. Jackson Hole has this kind of encyclopedic choice, too. When you step out of Jackson’s red, 63-passenger tram on top of Rendezvous Mountain, the decisions can be boggling. Should we dive straight off into the bumpy embrace of Rendezvous Bowl? Or creep along the ridge to the vertical bite
You’ve got 4,139 vertical feet and 2,500 acres to play with. Should we figure-eight the sun-soaked Cirque? Or drop over the wall scored by the Expert Chutes? Head into the cold, blue quiet of Cheyenne trees? Or carefully negotiate the tortuous stair-steps in Alta Chutes, where adrenalin gives way, once you are down, to relief laced with euphoria?
The trail map is a must, especially in Whistler’s immense high-alpine zone. My daughters and I spent an hour one morning trying to find West Bowl in a fog: skiing by braille, stopping, listening, guessing. When we dropped, finally, into the cream-cheese bowl and looked back at our tracks, we realized that we’d lucked through the only safe slot in a serrated cornice ten feet
I call this the adventure quotient. Taos hides it amid silent, old-growth trees. Big Sky spreads it around a radically-pitched, Euro-white cone. Mammoth Mountain has it in spades, thanks to the weather. The ski hill is a dormant volcano that just happens to plug a low spot in the Sierra crest. Pacific storms roar up San Joaquin Canyon and spill their rewards all over Mammoth’s
All of the best expert mountains started with superior genes. When 10th Mountain Division veteran Larry Jump first beheld the naked contours of Colorado’s Arapahoe Basin more than 50 years ago, he swooned for “the rolling slopes dropping down for miles, the snow-plumes streaming from the corniced ridges and swirling in gullies … ” Now A-Basin has everything except a resort at
And as every expert knows, bad weather makes good skiing. Which leads, ultimately, to spring, when a reemergent sun bakes powder into corn, the easiest snow of all. A-Basin’s season (as well as Mammoth’s and Whistler’s and Snowbird’s) lasts well into June. Locals set the barbie in a snowbank, rub on silver wax and SPF 30, and ride out to glory. This is hero snow; imagine a path