Briefly Cool

Currently, summer is blazing. The planet feels parched and toasted. Five or six months ago, we should have been in the middle of winter’s tempers and flurries, but, unlike summer, winter was rather a flop. However, one week in February brought all that winter should be- briefly. I will cover the limited topic of snowshoeing through that period now, perhaps less briefly than its own briefness might merit.

my critical companion
In my opinion, a Jason is an essential component of any adventure.
alfresco therapy
Last winter, the outdoors continued to be a lifeboat that kept us afloat.

Although we went snowshoeing in late December and on New Year’s Day, the bulk of our participation in that sport last winter happened in the space of just one week, during which we went out on three occasions. A storm unloaded so much snow in that span, it’s miraculous we were able to find three safe days and locations; avalanche danger was extreme in many places. For instance, conditions were so hazardous in Little Cottonwood Canyon that guests were “interlodged” for days at its ski resorts, meaning not allowed to even leave their lodges. Where did we find lower-risk terrain? We went to the Mill Canyon Trail in American Fork Canyon, South Maple Hollow at Suncrest, and then back again to Mill Canyon monitoring avalanche threats and carrying a heap of avalanche gear each time.

path pioneering
The fun of trail blazing is slightly dampened by the work involved.
seclusion at Suncrest
These hillsides seemed forgotten in their warped layers even though rows of nearby houses belied that impression.

Surprisingly, the best snow of the three outings was found at Suncrest, the place we thought we would find the most tracks and substandard accumulation. The powder was so deep at South Maple Hollow, sometimes past our knees, that we couldn’t accurately discern routes. That’s how we ended up on Zooropa, which is used solely by bikes in the summer.

Zooropa
The Zooropa Trail is 3.9 miles long. We maybe made it a fifth of that.

The landscape at South Maple Hollow had been carved by gusts into deep rolling drifts and gullies that required substantial amounts of effort to navigate. A single wandering snowshoer’s prints crossed our path occasionally. Otherwise, we encountered no tracks. I guess there isn’t a high demand for snowshoeing during the middle of the week, especially when it is bitterly windy. Oh yes, did I mention, this was the coldest I’ve ever been snowshoeing. Usually, you get cozy and end up removing layers. This time, I put my hood up instead of removing anything and wanted to cry over my hands! They were so frozen for the first 15 minutes or so that I did briefly consider recommending we give up and turn around. I do not often quit or even entertain thoughts of quitting… so that says more than just that I’m wimpy.

snap and sprint
Taking pictures can be a workout too.
I've got no tracks to hold me down.
The reward of that work? A picture without tracks attached.

The wise ancients once said, “The candle that burns the brightest burns out in about a week.” Our season of snowshoeing confirms that universal truth. Luckily, the snowboarding season didn’t end quite so abruptly, but I will cover that pastime later. I wouldn’t want to shoe you too far along.

A Sister Surprise Behind the Rocks

Late last year, a plan for meeting in Moab began to form. It started with my sister thinking about doing a trail race. It continued with me renting a house as her Christmas present, and then somehow it concluded with Jason and me being convinced to run the race as well. And that’s how we ended up in a familiar place with a few surprises. Read on to discover all the details you never knew you always wanted about a trip we took months ago. They are sure to have you firmly on the central portion of your seat.

After the Behind
I finished way behind the rocks.

The Behind the Rocks Ultra, the event that initiated this plot, was the first trail race Jason and I ever participated in. We signed up for the smallest distance offered, 10 miles. It turned out to be 10.67. I was not psychologically ready for 10.67. Sure, 10 miles I could do but 10.67? Come on people! The course went through terrain graced by outlooks on the La Sals and many sandstone formations, including Picture Frame Arch. The encompassing beauty was energizing and distracting but not enough to compensate for the particularly challenging uphill stretch between mile six and 7.5. My knees weren’t super into the arrangement either and thus decided to throb the last couple miles. Still, I managed to hit my goal of finishing in less than 2.5 hours at 2:25:20. Clearly, I aim high. I finished 133 out of 164. If 80% of the class gets a higher score than you, you still pass, right? Jason came through nearly 100 runners ahead of me at 1:43:09 and 34th overall. That boy has ambitions and long legs! We will not speak of how my sister did on her 18-mile course as there is no need to further emphasize my leisurely performance.

Funnel Arch
Funnel Arch is a buttress arch that spans 45 feet.
sandstone and silliness
Sisters make everything sillier, even geology.

Why sit still after running a trail race? Sure, there are the obvious reasons having to do with fatigue and all that but besides those? Jason and I hiked to Funnel Arch a couple years ago. This trail’s small section of Class 5 climbing pushed my comfort levels. So, what did we decide to do after exhausting ourselves on the Behind the Rocks Ultra? I bet you can guess. With four of us, the pushing, pulling, and blocking required to scramble this one-mile trek were easier. And, I must admit, this climb seemed to help loosen up my sore muscles. I didn’t hurt the rest of the day as much as I thought I would.

The Rectory
The Rectory is a 1000-foot-long and 200-foot-wide butte just north of Castleton Tower.
spectacular and scary
From the narrow ridge between Castleton Tower and The Rectory, Ida Gulch, Mary Jane Canyon, Parriott Mesa, and Adobe Mesa can all be viewed.

One dumb turn deserves another? The next day, we hiked to the ridge between Castleton Tower and The Rectory. Castleton Tower, also called Castle Rock, is a 400-foot monolith made of Wingate Sandstone that juts out of a 1000-foot funnel created by the Moenkopi and Chinle Formations. Its trail climbs over 1,300 feet in 1.3 miles. Undoubtedly, the best choice for a post-run activity, but, since Jason and I hadn’t done this trail for almost 10 years, it was relatively easy to ignore the complaints of our tender and tired muscles in the pursuit of breathtaking panoramas. For some of us, it was less easy to ignore the path’s intimidating drop-offs and slightly sketchy sections. My sister didn’t make it all the way to the ridge, but she got close before her shaky legs successfully pleaded their case of self-preservation. Although our movement prompted protests from my muscles, particularly at the beginning and on the downhill, I worked out my pain, and I really didn’t have many aches by the next day. Overall, it was the quickest dissipation of discomfort I’ve experienced after a race of that length. That’s right legs, I do know what is best for you, and I would never choose gorgeous scenery over your wellbeing.

cool at Castleton
Wearing matching hats is the surest way to signal your coolness to others in passing.

Just as my sister was leaving to go home, Jason and I got a surprise call from another sister saying she was passing through town. She ended up staying the night at our rental. Our niece, who was traveling with her, decided to remain in town even longer and hike with us the next day. We had a hard time selecting which trail to take her on out of all the classics in Moab. As it was supposed to be particularly blustery that day, we picked a more protected path, the 2.4-mile trail to Longbow Arch. We needn’t have worried about the wind as the temperatures hovered around 70 and felt mighty pleasant even with it.

Longbow Arch
The hike to Longbow Arch is easy, and a 60-foot span is your reward.

We always expect Moab to provide fantastic scenery, activities, and cuisine. However, we don’t usually expect it to provide extra family members. Way to go Moab! I didn’t think it possible for you to exceed our lofty expectations.

My Succy, Snowy Valentine

I’m a fan of succulents, and I’m a fan of snowboarding. Never would I have anticipated those two interests intersecting, but a few months ago, they did.

It was Jason’s turn to plan our Valentine’s Day events this year, and he thought a long weekend of snowboarding would be well received. He was correct. In addition to a couple days of staying and boarding at Snowbird, he gave me books about succulents to read during our trip’s unhurried evenings. Whatever Jason sacrificed to the snow gods, his Speedo or flip flops perhaps, must have been appreciated because a massive blizzard came in just in time for our outing, maybe the best storm of the whole season. There were 11 new inches the first day and 18 inches the second. In case totaling snowpack isn’t your thing, that’s 29 inches of powder in 48 hours. Essentially, Snowbird’s base depth increased by about 50%. Our evenings may have been succy, but our days were not.

no cacti complaints
Instead of roses, I received cacti without complaints.

We chose to spend the bulk of our first day in Gad Valley and found some tasty deposits at the ends of the Gad Chutes. The lift line was fairly long in the morning due to social distancing guidelines. When it cleared out around lunchtime, we couldn’t resist utilizing that lull even though our own tummies were grumbling, our legs were exhausted, and our feet had gone painfully to sleep. We ended up boarding for four hours without a break or any food or water. Sometimes you have to surrender more than just icky summer attire on the altar of brumal deities.

Chip's Blob
It’s not easy making sense of sky and earth dissolved into a formless blob.

After our delayed lunch, we went to the top of Peruvian Gulch for a little more time on the mountain. I’m pretty sure the mountain was there, but we never saw it. Thick clouds and blowing snow created a dizzying whiteout as we attempted to descend. I’ve never had the topsy-turvy sensation before of not being able to tell where the sky ends and the ground begins. If you’ve never experienced that, it is much more disorienting than you’d imagine. Although Chip’s Run was unfamiliar and obscured, we eventually made it past the masking mist to our cozy room at the bottom.

Claim Jumper
Some of the best things in life just fall on you.

The next morning, we decided against getting up at 6:30 to be on a lift at opening since only one inch had fallen overnight, and the accumulation was supposed to accelerate as the day progressed. By the way, it did. By late afternoon, 15 more inches of feathery glory had wafted down on us. Is that why we skipped lunch and boarded for five hours straight in 20-something temperatures? Actually, it wasn’t just the stockpiles of powder; it was also the inadequate visibility. Allow me to explain. After a bit of time in Peruvian Gulch, we were curious about the heaps in Mineral Basin. Signs indicated that due to poor visibility, Mineral Basin was limited to experts that day. I’m not sure I would call myself an expert, but I was willing to give Mineral Basin a whirl and see just how far below the expert bar I fell. Our range of vision was indeed narrow during our first Mineral Basin run, so much so that we immediately began debating going back to Peruvian Gulch. However, in the end, the appeal of a new lift overpowered our common sense.

books and boarding
Quiet nights counteracted our active days.

Neither of us had ever been on Baldy Express, a smaller lift most often used to access Alta Ski Area. So, when we noticed it sans line, we agreed to give it a try whether we would be able to discern its terrain or not. While it was challenging to see at the top of the ridge where the lift plopped us, we soon found a path with manageable visibility. It proved to be our favorite run of the day, and the trip… and maybe our whole lives. We didn’t know its name at the time but later learned it was Claim Jumper. The best thing about this corridor? Only a handful of people on the entire mountainside and barely trod powder at least two feet deep. It was almost too much powder. I know, such a thing doesn’t really exist any more than Sasquatch or mermaids, but this came close. No people? Powder so deep it could bury you? Yes! Bury me, and send me to that fuzzy heaven. It was easily one of the best days I’ve ever boarded.

After two days of pushing ourselves through almost every hour of daylight, and reading books, writing, eating takeout, and playing games for the many dark hours of the evening, we headed home while the storm still lingered. And that is how I got a weekend of snowy days and succy nights for Valentine’s Day.