After a few days of bluebird skies and wide-open groomers last week, the weather took a decided turn towards nasty. Early one morning I began gathering my gear for a ski day at Canyons Village with a buddy. As dawn slowly broke, it was clear that the skies were overcast and a gloomy pall had set over the valley. Looking out to the southwest, I struggled to make out any portion of the ridgeline amid the clouds, save a little sliver on the flanks of Murdoch Peak.
The wind was whipping with snow swirling in the air as I let our grandson’s cat, Tiger Lily, out of the barn and into the blustery winter morning. I snapped an iPhone image of the obscured ridgeline to send to my friend driving up from Heber City.
“Hey, not looking good over here,” I wrote. He quickly replied, “It’s winter!”
Yeah, that’s right. I suddenly caught myself. Never let the weather get in the way of a good ski day!
Life is rough living in a mountain resort town. Every morning I have four or more base areas within a 15-20 minute drive. I also have a panoramic view and can see the storms coming in, and the clouds that sometimes envelop the mountains.
But you also have to realize that the weather is constantly changing in the mountains.
Years ago I did an intervention with myself. I realized that every morning I was waiting for that perfect day. “It’s cloudy today, but I’ll try it again tomorrow. Misting rain, well maybe next weekend.” At the time, my skiing opportunities were Saturday and Sunday. And I found myself at mid-season with only a handful of days on the slopes.
So I made this personal commitment that I would get up on the hill every weekend day I was in town. Never again would weather be an impediment. I sometimes left home on mornings when I would just shake my head at my stupidity for thinking this would be a good ski day. But you know what? Every one of them was a great experience!
Time was ticking as I wrangled my gear, pulled on my ski pants, unplugged the heaters, and threw the boots into the car. Visibility wasn’t improving as I headed into the Canyons Village parking lot. It was like a gale force as I headed up in the cabriolet.
In the Canyons Village plaza, other crazy souls were scurrying around ready to head up the Red Pine Gondola. Climbing onto the brand new, bright red cabin, I settled in for what I thought might be a rugged journey up to the mid-mountain base.
The wind was swirling outside, but the cabin was steady and true as it headed over the ridgeline and across the long span high above the canyon below. Soon I was transported into another world as clouds started to break ever so much. Was that a tiny touch of blue sky?
It was like a new world up at Red Pine Lodge. The gondola ride had taken me through the clouds and the skies were breaking ever so much. Temperatures were moderate but the wind whipped the snow around as I headed up Saddleback Express.
Sliding off the lift, I was mesmerized, looking out onto a majestic mountain scene as a mix of blue sky and winter storm clouds framed Square Top, fresh sloughs breaking down off its southern edge. It was a picture postcard image — the scene that draws us all to the mountains.
Frankly, I could have called it a day at that point and left feeling blessed by another day in the mountains.
But I pushed eagerly down the groomed surface of Snowdancer, my edges carving effortlessly into the dry yet grippy snow, quickly making sweeping arcs down the slope. Wow, this was amazing! The top layer was solid yet soft enough to take an edge solidly into the surface, leaving wide GS arcs in the snow. I followed my buddy Tom’s turns, carving the back end of stretched-out S’s as we ripped down the run.
Nearing the bottom, I took a quick to cut through Badger’s Bypass, seemingly floating on an inch or two of fresh snow that quieted my edges with the sensation of gliding on air.
I kept lapping Saddleback, alternating Snowdancer and Kokopelli, before ripping down Chicane to Over and Out and wrapping up the morning.
Hands down, it was the best morning of the year! And to think I almost missed it.