Utah: one of the best places on the planet for snowboarding. Snowboarding: the best part of the winter. Winter: the worst part of the year. Ah, life is just full of complexities and incongruities, isn’t it?
I’m getting much better at launching myself off jumps.
We went to Snowbird on Memorial Day, which was their last day of operation for the year. The snow was surprisingly still good and the sun was charming.
I hate winter. It’s a lot like that girl that’s too mean for anyone to get along with but all the boys chase anyway because she smooches like a goddess. Yup, that sounds like winter to me. With strings of days when the temperatures never get above freezing and inversions block out what little warmth the weary sun might offer, winter’s got few charms but that frosty imp lures you in with its sweet, sweet powder and you find yourself longing for its blustery tempests with an eagerness that’s nearly nonsensical. Here are the highlights of our recent sporty encounters with that moody succubus.
One of the first good snowstorms of the season brought out all the boarding rabble.
No, that’s not lens dust; it’s many magnificent flakes of snow.
This year’s snow patterns were a little abnormal. The flurries came late and infrequent until early spring and then storms raged aplenty. Because of that belated precipitation, Jason and I didn’t go boarding as much as usual. We only hit Brighton five times and Snowbasin and Snowbird each once. But don’t let those limited visits fool you; we got it while the getting was good. A few tantalizing blizzards found us in the mountains surrounded by powder so deliciously deep it’d make Charles De Mar weep.
He wants to be?
What you’re seeing here is the clumsy ending to my best jump ever. I got three feet of airborne bliss and one awkward landing.
As for my progression as a boarder, that went quite satisfactory this season. I’m pleased to report that many speed and height advancements came without much conscious effort. My new record for jump air is now approximately 2-3 feet. Not impressed? Remember, previously I was soaring measly inches.
Boarding is one of the many activities that Jason and I go gaga for.
Spring is unabashedly here now. The heavens hint at the hot temperatures to come and the mountains’ once glorious frocks melt into sticky slush. Winter will have no power to persuade us to pursue its luscious slopes for months but, after the heated passions of summer have passed, pursue them we will. What fools we boarders be!
Since Jason and I were already in the area, we decided to take a road trip from Mississippi to Great Smoky Mountains National Park, the most visited national park. We are, after all, always suckers for a little taste of nature, especially those delightful nibbles we’ve not yet sampled.
Ruby Falls is as far under the ground as The Empire State Building is above it.
Lookout Mountain provided a fine view of Chattanooga.
The drive from Mississippi to the town of Pigeon Forge, which is right outside the park, took us a full day and through parts of Alabama, Georgia and Tennessee. We stopped at Chattanooga long enough to check out a cave buried deep within Lookout Mountain, including its 145-foot underground waterfall called Ruby Falls. The cave itself wasn’t too impressive but its tumbling waters were quite cool.
The path to Rainbow Falls shadows Le Conte Creek and Le Conte’s shadows created these icy needles.
After our long day of traveling, we finally made it to Pigeon Forge. We were surprised by this “wilderness” city since it seemed the antithesis of conservationism or naturalness. If you took a carnival, Las Vegas and a high-class daycare, and jumbled them all together, something like Pigeon Forge would emerge. I’ve never seen so many unusually-themed miniature golf courses in my life. There was something mesmerizing in its amusing chaos but I’d hate to find out what this bustling tourist trap is like in its busy season.
Rainbow Falls drops 80 feet onto a labyrinth of boulders.
We spent the majority of our first day in the park hiking to Rainbow Falls, one of its many popular cascades. This path was 5.4 miles in total and considered a strenuous undertaking by most guides. I can’t say I noticed the difficulty of it much though. When you come from a state whose slogan is “Life Elevated,” it’s all downhill from there. However, we did encounter one trail obstacle that we weren’t accustomed to while on this trek: ice. Snow and rain had fallen the night before and mixed to form a slippery blockade on the side of the mountain untouched by the sun. I thought for sure I was headed for a smack down at some point but, somehow, I managed to stay on my feet throughout those slick slopes.
This cabin once belonged to John Oliver. It was built in 1820 and is the oldest log home in Cades Cove.
We spent the bulk of our second day in the park exploring Cades Cove, one of the most visited destinations within its borders. This area was once home to industrious settlers and is now a curious mix of historical and natural sights. Jason and I did the unthinkable to make the most of our time in the Cove; we woke up at 5:00 AM (3:00 AM back home) in order to have a good chance of seeing wildlife on its grassy hillsides. (Shortly after sunrise, animals usually enter Cades Cove with lively enthusiasm for their day or, possibly, their food.) We saw lots of wild turkeys and deer that morning but Jason was really hoping he’d have a bear encounter.
Our daybreak shenanigans resulted in a few great pictures, like this one.
After examining some of the old cabins and churches in the Cove, which were quite interesting, we decided to hike to Abrams Falls, a 5-mile journey. Although this waterfall is only 20 feet high, it makes up for that lack of stature by gushing relentlessly. Jason and I unanimously agree that this trek was our favorite activity in the Smokies.
Abrams Falls is only about twenty feet high but it’s a gusher.
To stay warm in the Smokies, I usually had to wear two jackets, a sweater, a long-sleeved shirt and a t-shirt all amassed into a lumpy clump. Here I’ve only got three layers on and was felling pretty good.
Following that ramble, we had just enough time to drive the 4,000-foot climb up the Newfound Gap Road to the state line. We watched the sun sink below the gentle timbered curves of Mount Mingus and Sugarland Mountain from high on an overlook. It was a serene reminder of our limited perspective on the unhurried progress of this planet.
The Smokies straddle Tennessee on one side and North Carolina on the other.
The Smokies were a whirlwind of bygone buildings, pampered wildlife and plunging waters for us. We appreciated this park’s unique outlook on civilization’s impact to its area. It made a point of honoring its past settlers, those hardy humans, while still paying homage to its current occupants, the diverse plant and critter species that have made these graceful giants great once again.
Jason and I typically spend a weekend at our condo in Midway every winter. We’ve invited an assortment of family and friends to join us on these annual getaways. This year we went to Midway in March and welcomed my friends, Robyn and Wendy, to hang with us.
Although we enjoy congregations, Jason and I spent our first night in Midway alone by design. We had a grand time eating dinner at the Snake Creek Grill in Heber and battling for intergalactic deck dominance via the Star Trek Deck Building Game. I easily won that enterprise, not that I would ever consider gloating about it or anything.
The following day, Saturday, we went tubing at Soldier Hollow on sticky wet snow with Robyn, Wendy and Wendy’s husband West. Momentum proved nigh impossible to maintain while sliding down that mountain, even with the encouragement of gravity and pushy men. We rarely made it to the bottom of the hill without multiple stops for further shoving but warm rays and sprightly laughter were ample during this soggy romp.
Our group’s heft helped us speed our descent but it didn’t help enough.
We ate dinner that night at the Loco Lizard Cantina, a Mexican joint in Park City, as a gang. It wasn’t the best Mexican food I’ve ever had but it was better than most places geared toward the cheaper crowd.
Jason and I are very talented at entertaining ourselves, which is fortunate because our company departed later that evening, even though they had previously communicated that they were all going to stay the night. This meant that Jason and I were free to pursue repose…i.e. continue our battle for interstellar control. The winner of this particular foray isn’t important because it wasn’t me.
Midway was, as always, a convenient retreat. Although tubing required less guts and more might than normal and our guest situation didn’t quite go the way that we’d anticipated, our circumstances never neared dullness. From maneuvering (very slowly) down sunshine-drenched hills to outmaneuvering alien foes, I’d say that the obstacles of our Midway holiday were skillfully navigated.
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