We work the winter trade shows in Salt Lake City and Denver, setting up early, talking shop late, and cram in as many days of skiing as humanly possible, because that’s what we do. With OR finished, we rushed directly towards the Wasatch Mountains. It’d been dumping while we’d slung packs in the SLC convention center, and plowed to a near-standstill, like a boat dragging anchor, in two hours of 8am Sunday stop and go traffic threading its slow way toward LCC. Clearly we weren’t locals, and neither was anybody else in line. As we reached the closed mouth of the avy-controlled canyon, we turned around, like everyone else, and drove to BCC with hundreds, hopefully not thousands, of rippers several steps ahead of us, already parked on the road near Solitude and hiking to the ticket window. A solid three hour approach for out of towners to get some skiing showed us how far 20 or so miles can sometimes be, when one’s trying to flee the city for the mountains. 11 am came early: but our ratpack of 5 worked its way to the summit lift, was in line just after opening, and found that light, blower, luscious Utah powder that clings in your brain. … READ MORE >
