Existentialism, Powder, and Profanity

The weather's looking warm (50's) all week, so I figured I'd better get up to the Alta backcountry before the existing snow melts away. I checked the avy forecast, and things were looking really stable, so I planned to head up over the ridge adjacent to Alta and drop in on the back, North facing, side, where the snow should be best.

I was hiking/skiing alone again, and I have to admit I was digging the tranquility of being in the great outdoors alone. As I got towards the top of the ridge the view was incredible... equally incredible was how out-of-shape I am. As I was gasping for oxygen, my mind was free to wonder. I was really savoring how lucky I am. I'm lucky to live in Utah and have this playground in my backyard. I'm lucky to live a life less ordinary, to not work a 9-5 desk job in a cubicle.

As I summited the ridge, the 360 degree view was amazing. Photos, or words, simply can't do it justice. I can't describe how small and insignificant being in a place like that makes you feel. Concerns about trivial things like money and bills seem to float away, and it's just you- a tiny person- surrounded by very NOT-tiny mountains, deep blue sky, and snow.

Getting ready to drop over the back

The thought of snow brought be back to the here-and-now, and I remembered the real reason I just worked so hard to get up there... to go back down. I found a steep chute that looked like it had great, untouched snow, and got ready to drop...

A side view of my chute

The run down was epic. The snow was great, and surprisingly deep for this early in the season. This was my first run of the season on what I would consider 'no-fall' terrain, and the exposure was exhilarating. I doubt I would have died had I fallen, but it was steep enough I probably would have had a long ride down, with some unwelcome tree-trunk visits along the way. My dad taught me to always acknowledge and respect the consequences of what could happen if things go wrong... and that was definitely in the back of my head the whole way down. I lived. Thanks Dad :-)

Do I really want to do this? Hell yea I do.

The hike back out is where the profanity starts in. When I got to the bottom I saw a nice skin track back up and out, through relatively safe avy terrain, so I decided to follow the track. Well whatever jackbag made that track must have had ridiculously fat skis, with the best skins known to man, because I simply could NOT follow the pitch of the skin track. So I made my own skin track, cutting back and forth across the slope... until I got about 200 ft from the top, at which point it got narrow and steep, and I would have had to cut back and forth a million times before I was even half way up. At this point my options are to ski back down, and tour up somewhere more appropriate, or pop my skis and boot the last 200 ft (in waste-deep, light and fluffy powder). I opted to boot. Booting in deep snow is a miserable combination between learning to crawl, learning to swim, learning to rock climb, and realizing that in 10 steps you've moved 3 feet. I expored my healthy repertoire of 'frech' as I clawed my way to the top.

You think that's the end of the story? naaaah. It was warm and sunny enough that a lot of the snow on the Southerly facing ridge had now melted, and I'm about 1,200 ft above my car, with said Southerly facing ridge standing between us. I figured I'd follow Mr. Expert Touring Dude's tracks for a safe way down. Or into a thin-cover boulder field... that was my next guess. I found the least rocky spot I could, and tried to keep my speed up and float on the thin cover. Every now and then I would feel a ski stop suddenly on a rock, and I'd have to shift me weight to the other, or risk taking a header down the (rocky) slope. I was literally between a rock and hard place, and had no choice but to make the best of it and get my ass to the car. As I boulder hopped I created some good profanity out of my subconscious. We're talking multi-syllable, compound words... the ones that usually live within us, in a locked box buried in our psyche. The monster was loose...

The immortal words of Randall Jones bounced around in my head:
"My ski had fun too... on a ROCK!"

In the end I made it to the car without falling and smashing my skull on the rocks, and I have to admit the exercise, the experience, and most of all the steep chute I skied down the back side made the whole trip worth it...