Prologue
Here is the tragic tale of snowy slopes left desolate amidst the unseen onslaught of tiny viruses. This story is one of broken powder bliss and how Jason and I experienced the showdown between mountains and microbes.
Chapter I: Mountains
Thursday, Early January, Solitude
Jason and I went to Solitude for our first time ever at the beginning of January. Nine inches in 24 hours was plenty to tempt us. It wasn’t enough to tempt us early though. We got to Solitude about 12:30 PM after encountering no traffic in the canyon and took a parking spot that had just opened up.
Due to the numerous Ikon passholders, Solitude isn’t necessarily something you will find at Solitude Resort any longer. My advice to those visiting this resort? Don’t use the Moonbeam lift. It’s crowded with beginners and everyone else. The throngs are less intense elsewhere. We enjoyed exploring Eagle Express and Powderhorn, especially the Grumble, Rumble, and Stumble runs.
Friday, Mid-January, Solitude
About a week later, 10 inches overnight convinced us to spend an afternoon at Solitude. The new snow had already been trampled under countless skis and boards, but we didn’t waste any time mourning its premature flattening. We tried out Summit Express in search of secret powder. Although there wasn’t any hush-hush fluff on Summit, that lift ride was probably the prettiest we’ve experienced in Big Cottonwood with feathery clouds zooming over imposing Black Bess Peak. We stayed up there around 10,000 feet most of the afternoon riding Dynamite.
Sunday, Mid-January, Brighton
Brighton received 24 inches in 24 hours with 13 of those falling overnight. That ended a week with 55 inches of accumulation, which accounted for most of its 87-inch base. With a platter of precipitation that delicious, we knew competition in the canyon would be concentrated. We left home before 7:00 in an effort to beat the rush. Although we got to Big Cottonwood quickly, a couple traffic accidents and a sudden accumulation of vehicles then delayed us on a grand scale. By the time we reached Brighton, nearly four hours had passed. Four hours! At least parking spots were plentiful as no one else had been able to get up the canyon either. We didn’t get first tracks, but we got tasty seconds and thirds. Intoxicated by the lure of the powder, we boarded for over 3.5 hours with no break to thaw even though it was only about 20 degrees during the warmest part of the day.
Friday, Early February, Solitude
In February, we took a nephew boarding with us at Solitude. This was his first boarding experience, and he learned quickly with an afternoon in ski school. While he was practicing his stocky stance, Jason and I stuck with the Grumble, Stumble, and Rumble runs. They still had powder on them from a storm earlier that week. It was bumpy powder, which is probably why it was still there, but we didn’t mind. We stopped to get both burritos and waffles on the way home because beans and whipped cream are an obvious pairing.
Tuesday, Early March, Brighton
Our friend J.R. came with us eager to test out a new board. Temperatures stayed in the low 30s. Hence, we encountered no hardpack. We also did not encounter many people notwithstanding the nearly full parking lot. However, we stumbled upon laughter quite often.
Chapter II: Microbes
Saturday, March 14th, Everywhere
Resorts began shutting down in swift succession, just one of the many ways COVID abruptly disordered life. Even though resort closures meant missing our favorite months of boarding, they certainly were not the most dramatic changes due to the virus. Had we known what was coming, we would have ridden the slopes endlessly early in the season like stick wranglers who weren’t afraid to get a little frostbite on their saddles.
Chapter III: Mountains with Microbes
Saturdays, April and May, Alta
Although not operational, Alta opened its forbidden slopes to all winter sports enthusiasts including boarders. Without functioning lifts, the only way to access those select hillsides was through shoe power. On a Saturday in April, I convinced Jason to try snowshoeing up and boarding down Alta’s inclines. He remained skeptical as we trekked 90 minutes up the rises of Home Run and Race Hill with boards strapped on our backs. When we started riding, the untrod but slushy snow felt strange. We sunk into it like powder, but it weighed us down. As this is not a common combination at a ski resort, it seemed as uncanny as finding busy city streets abandoned. Despite all our uphill efforts, it only took us 10 minutes to descend.
I guess Jason found the energy required for our shoe/board pursuits acceptable because the next Saturday found us at Alta again in t-shirt weather. This time we went higher up Home Run, almost all the way to the terminus of the Sunnyside lift. Surprisingly, this longer journey took us less time. We got to the top just an hour and 10 minutes after we started. Every second of our 12 minutes down was savored. I like to hog whole runs to myself, and we had nearly the entire resort on this occasion. They say be careful what you wish for. Universe, is it too late to tell you that’s not exactly what I meant?
Our last visit to Alta was in mid-May. By that time, the warm weather had created countless mini crevasses in the snow as if the frosty skin of the mountain had shriveled like a raisin. Still, it was pleasant outside, and we would have been content to be outside even without the pleasant bit.
These trips to Alta were a rope tow to Sanity. Thanks, Alta, for discarding your traditional prejudices regarding boarders and welcoming all to your beautiful slopes in these unusual times!
Epilogue
Now the snow is long gone but COVID is not. With the 2020-2021 ski season approaching, powder dreams blend with pathogen phobias into a granular jumble of drifting flakes and drifting germs. May snow crystals prove more prolific than viral nucleic acids in the months ahead.