Jason and I decided that it had been too long since his family spent some quality time cooped up together. So, for Christmas this year, we gave his kin a cabin… for a few days.
The cabin was spacious enough to comfortably fit our sizeable group.
Jason’s parents used to own a cabin. We have many pleasant memories of snowmobiling, sledding, ATV riding, gaming, and movie watching at that timbered retreat, which influenced our decision to rent this particular type of accommodation.
Bear Lake is often called the “Caribbean of the Rockies” because of its brilliant turquoise hue.
Family togetherness can be stimulating or stifling… or a little of both.
We reserved Shelton Lodge near Bear Lake, a 4700-square-foot log cottage that sleeps 26, for a few nights and enjoyed the rustic ambiance of its massive fireplace, comfy theater room, expansive decks, and impressive views.
Our run was a bit rough with snow-covered trails, but it was thoroughly enjoyable.
What did we do during our Bear Lake break? We began it by opening Christmas gifts to each other, an activity improved by the festive decorations ornamenting the lodge. A large group of us went on an 8-mile run the next day over snowy paths and muddy hills. It was pleasant enough for shorts, not a typical December day. Although the lake was too frigid to encourage even digit dipping, we spent some time on its shores that afternoon throwing snowballs at each other and taking silly pictures.
A city park provided us easy, reedy access to the water’s edge.
I took some goofy pictures of the gang by the lake.
Eating took a surprisingly-large portion of our time. Rigorous commitment to snacking requires relentless dedication. We stuffed ourselves at meals, before meals, in between meals, after meals, and during any activities that could be synchronized with face stuffing. Among our surging stream of snacks, we happily sampled some of the town’s finest chocolate-covered raspberries, a famous local treat. Delightful! Our group also took full advantage of the cabin’s theater room, and we gladly integrated ingestion into our cinema viewing, as one should.
Where’s the mountain?
We played many rounds of Exploding Kittens and Codenames. We didn’t play Blasting Canines though; I’ve heard that game is a little unstable.
The moon floated above the lake like a filigreed eye entranced by its own fiery reflection.
The day-to-day mandates of life often inhibit the regular remembrance of the more important things. You forget to chuck snowballs at your siblings or make your mom wear a cone of shame amidst the daily grind; it’s easy to see how families unintentionally drift apart. So, I’m glad Jason and I successfully created an opportunity for some familial inseparability at a beautiful and entertaining spot.
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.
This particular powder field is a favorite of mine.
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.
This is how one should not ride powder. Note that my weight is evenly distributed, and I am not moving (AKA stuck).
This is how one should ride powder. Note that my weight is on my back foot, and I am actually moving.
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.
Photographic evidence suggests that I ride powder with an ape-like stance.
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.
My boarding buddy is the best!
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.
Yes, I’m back to blogging after some temporary impediments (AKA life).
Orderville Canyon, rated a 3B III, is one of Zion National Park’s famous slot canyons. This fall, my father organized a family outing to this narrow ravine with one of his friends as our guide. More family members ended up joining this expedition than expected, so our group of nine wadded and jumped through frigid waters as an odd entourage.
The Canyon Overlook Trail is short but stunning.
No matter how hot it is in Zion, the park’s slot canyons don’t offer much heat. The sun can’t reach into those deep and slim crevices, and the icy waters that seep through stone to fill their innards assure that no passer retains what limited warmth is offered by the air. However, the rest of the park does not share this all-too-efficient cooling system and was blazing hot during our stay.
The Canyon Overlook Trail provides a touch of adventure.
Jason and I went down to Zion a day earlier than my family and completed two hikes. We did these at both ends of the day to avoid the sun’s most intense beams. During the morning, we took a 3.5-mile trek to a fantastic viewpoint of the Watchman, a spire that overlooks the valley holding Springdale. In the evening, we hiked the Canyon Overlook, a short one-mile jaunt with a gorgeous endpoint above Zion Canyon.
Birch Hollow is one way to enter Orderville Canyon. It’s not the way we came in, but we stopped there long enough for me to slip on a loose rock and fall flat on my face.
The next day, we got up at an ungodly hour to begin our slot adventure. Hiking Orderville involves a one-way journey down a thin gap that empties into Zion’s famous Narrows almost two miles from the Temple of Sinawava. Only 80 permits/day are given to enter this canyon. The distance is 10-12 miles, depending on how far along a bumpy dirt road you dare go in your vehicle. We did the 12-mile version. We started walking at 9:15 AM and barely caught the last shuttle out of the park from the Temple of Sinawava at 9:15 PM. Yup, those 12 miles took us 12 hours. One mile an hour? Perhaps a little pitiful. This trek is supposed to take 7-10 hours, so we were about 25% slower than normal human beings.
Our rappel off the Border Boulder ended right in a deep mud pock.
Why so sluggish? For one, our group was relatively large, so each rappel took considerably longer just based off our numbers. Second, our group was relatively timid, so prompting its members into freezing pools of unknown depth wasn’t always quick. Why rush into misery?
The thing about hiking slot canyons is that there isn’t a go-back option after a certain point. Once you make your first rappel, you are committed. So, even when an obstacle makes you think “I can’t do that,” you know you must. It’s both intimidating and empowering. In this case, our first rappel, and the point of no return, was a 15-foot drop off a chunk of stone known as the Border Boulder. Once our ragtag group bounded beyond that rotund pebble, we were past retreat.
Our group wasn’t exactly A-team material.
The Guillotine, Orderville’s second rappel, falls between two massive boulders wedged into the canyon’s slender gap. A cold and cloudy pool obscures the rappel’s landing. While only about a 12-foot drop, the unknown depth of that water made us all hesitant to get harnessed up. Thus, Jason got elected to take the first descent into its indeterminate deepness, an honor he was not terribly excited about receiving. It turned out to only be about three feet deep, so no one had to attempt detaching from the line while swimming.
The Guillotine sits in a hazy pool.
Orderville’s terrain and obstructions change frequently, more than most slot canyons’. Each flashflood alters the sand levels and debris clogs, shifting the wading, swimming, and maneuvering requirements. Beyond the Guillotine, the landscape went from a little wet to much worse for us. This section, officially Bulloch Gulch, is commonly called the “Orderville Waterpark” or the “Obstacle Course.” Somehow, frigid water escapes the towering canyon walls to gain mass and momentum here. This runoff is opaque with a turquoise hue, similar to glacier runoff. Therefore, the depth and subsurface conditions of its puddles are impossible to ascertain before jumping in. We had to wade nearly constantly once we hit this section, and we crossed at least three or four pools that required full swims. There might have been a few more… we lost track.
Our encounters with Orderville’s fluids began innocently enough.
A friend warned me that wearing a wetsuit or drysuit is necessary when maneuvering through parts of Orderville, regardless of the temperature outside. I didn’t believe him. Zion was 102 degrees the day we trekked through Orderville, hardly wetsuit weather. So, with the exception of neoprene socks and amphibious canyoneering shoes, Jason and I passed on donning aqueous attire. Bad decision. Continual plunges into icy puddles combined with constant shade created by high canyon walls meant we all were soon shivering uncontrollably once the swims began. My body has a hard time staying warm anyway, so I was hit by fiercer shivers than most. Jason said I turned pale and my lips went blue. It’s been a while since I’ve been that cold.
Slippery logs and rocks are frequent hurdles in the Waterpark.
Our last rappel wasn’t planned but was necessary. Veiled Falls, a waterfall, is typically only around six feet tall, but it’s the most frequent search-and-rescue site in the canyon due to people jumping from its ledges and breaking their ankles. To get past it without snapping our limbs, we concocted a makeshift rappel line using Jason and my dad as the anchor. Designing this workaround took a bit of time and left our shaking bunch even more dejected.
With all the shivering, I couldn’t keep my hands steady enough to take pictures. All of my photos turned out a bit blurry once we got substantially wet.
Due to our slower-than-average pace, we didn’t make it out of The Narrows before dark. We had to wander down nearly a mile of the Virgin River in the pitch of night. Wading through a flowing waterway when everything is black around you is an interesting experience.
Veiled Falls made us snappier, but it didn’t snap us.
The consensus on Orderville? It was unimaginably beautiful and unbelievably cold. The experience, a jumbled bundle of misery and majesty, will never be forgotten. While others from our group might not be eager to experience it again, I would be game. A wetsuit would not be considered optional attire though.
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