With a lackluster season of snowboarding upon us, let us remember the greatness that has come before.
The first part of last season was excellent, but Jason and I didn’t make it to the slopes until the end of January due to a family misfortune. It was cold during our initial mountain pilgrimage, really cold. With 30 inches of snow overnight and an additional three feet in the three days prior, it was worth it even though our toes became unresponsive.
We visited Brighton again on a mid-February Saturday. The drive took an extra hour due to the traffic turning into and going through the canyon. We got one of the last parking spots at the resort even though we left our house before 8:00 AM. Just stay home people, and leave the powder to me! I whine, but 16 inches of fresh fluff made it all okeydokey.
A couple of weeks later, we carved the hillsides on a Friday. The base depth at Brighton was over 130 inches. A storm had dropped eight inches overnight, 14 inches in the last 24 hours, 29 inches in the last 48 hours, and 43 inches in the last 72 hours. Obviously, the slopes were awesome, and the roads were horrible. Eager resort seekers were ignoring the “chains or 4×4 required” sign at the entrance to Big Cottonwood Canyon; it took us two and a half hours to get to Brighton because of sliding vehicles. The canyon closed about 15 minutes after we arrived at the resort due to a six-car pileup. So, there were no crowds all morning long, and we were free to frolic as powder pigs. It wasn’t warm, the temperatures lingered between about 10 and 20 degrees, but who needs toes with feeling when there is almost four feet of fresh pow-pow? Not this girl.
On a Wednesday in mid-March, we enjoyed some record-breaking warmth at Brighton instead of numbed extremities. It reached 57 degrees by the afternoon. While the weather was amazing, the snow wasn’t so much. The slopes started out icy and then got slushy in the lower regions while remaining a little hard at the top. The pack was slick stuff, whatever its state; we completed runs in about six minutes. Overall, a pleasant day with a pleasant boy.
We visited Brighton again on its closing weekend. With 120 inches of snow, the resort was throwing in its seasonal towel. Crazy! There weren’t a lot of people on the mountain, probably because spring was flinging. The temperatures stayed in the 30s and 40s, but it was super windy. Gusts averaged around 20 MPH and exceeded 35 MPH. These blasts made it difficult to stay on target and upright. On an unrelated note, the underside of my nose got sunburned from UV bouncing off the snow. I didn’t think to put sunscreen there. Who would? For weeks, it looked like I had persistent crusty boogers. Awkward.
That’s how the season went for us last year. It may be a far cry from the piddling flecks we’ve gotten this season, but may the fond memories of flakes received sustain us until those sacred shavings descend upon us again. Amen.