A MEGA week!

So I guess it's been nearly two weeks since I last checked in.  About a ten days ago, the Wasatch was looking rather grim--an extended, high pressure system parked itself on top of the range, hammering the snowpack with high winds and days upon days of sun exposure...  Despite my drive to ski everyday, Cobes convinced me to head to Red Rocks, outside of Las Vegas, for a few days of rock climbing in the sun.  At first, I protested, but then, finally acquiesced as the local forecast promised no respite from the spring-like conditions.
Here are a few pics from our two, mellow days in one of our favorite climbing spots within a six-hour drive. 

Leading out on the stellar third pitch of Armatron, on the very cool Brownstone Wall, Juniper Canyon.

Look closely just left of center--on our approach to Rose Tower, we were surprised to see this Bighorn ram and two, smaller sheep.

Coby inspects the next pitch from the spacious belay on the classic Olive Oil, Rose Tower.

Here's Coby, styling the pitch.  How aesthetic is the rock, eh?

After topping out on the Rose Tower, we enjoyed tremendous views of some of the more remote formations at Red Rocks; here I am scheming to return later this season to check out the Hidden Wall--seen here in the shade, just below the horizon. 

On our final day in Nevada, we awoke to high winds and rain; rather than stick it out to see if the conditions improved later in the day, we bailed for home--but only after a brief stop at the Red Rock Casino for one of the most regrettable breakfasts in recent memory.
Upon arriving in Salt Lake, the forecast called for a weak disturbance--a minor storm predicted to deposit only a few inches...  I woke up the next morning to discover much more, and, according to the NOAA weather models, a week of consecutive storms in the pipeline.  These days, I'm only working Sundays and so, needless to say, all I've been up to is skiing!!!  Here are some images of the past week--and the storm totals from the past seven days?  Nearly 7 feet of "the Greatest Snow on Earth!"

That's Shawn breaking trail--in 2+ feet of fresh powder--in Upper White Pine, about to lay the skin-track up the Columbine slidepath to our right.  We had the entire place to ourselves!

The sun whooped us, but we managed to put in a long-ish, but safe skinner to reach the upper bowl of Columbine, below the tempting--but probably dodgy--Birthday Chutes.  Here's Shawn nearing the top of our first shot.

Round 1!

Round 2!

Round 3!

Round 4!

Shawn, about to drop in for Round 5--he and his younger brother, Chris, back in Georgia, coined the phrase, "Rude Body Shock" to describe how he's feeling in this pic.  We were fully worked--but, it continued to snow!

Shawn heads back to the trailhead, two hours late for work, ready to destroy the 6-pack of PBR I buried by the lot.  And so we did...
Day 2 saw the crew back together again--my normal ski partners, Tyler, and his girlfriend Andrea, were out of town on a yurt trip while Coby and I were in Vegas.  On Tuesday, we decided to finish what Shawn and I started--to track out the Columbine slidepath--another 6k+ vertical foot day, but sans photos.  According to Cobes, our laptop is on the verge due to the enormous volume of pics from our various adventures; hence, there are no images from that day, but it was even deeper than the day before!
On Day 3, I decided to have another go at my old nemesis, the NW Couloir of the Pfeifferhorn.  The last time I tried to ski it, my buddy Alexis and I were fully bouted by the unexpected, icy conditions.  We made it halfway down the thing before realizing that, in fact, there was no snow left in it to ski.  The NW Couloir is one of the most classic, steep ski descents in the Wasatch; to get it, one must first approach the peak from  White Pine, climb it, then drop into the chute right from the summit, and then about halfway down, rappel a 50' section of cliffband to reach the apron into Hogum's Fork.  The pitch is 50 degrees at the chute's steepest, and the upper ramp is definitely a "no-fall" situation--my favorite type of skiing!

Tyler, tops out on the ridge above Upper Red Pine.  Getting here involved the standard slog from White Pine, a steep, deeeep boot-pack, then me tunnelling through the sizable, overhanging cornice.  Tyler's mellow looks--fully--harshed...  Shenanigans!

Once on the East Ridge, visibility was an issue, and as we neared the Pfeiff, there were several stretches where we suffered severe vertigo--I had no idea which way I was headed, whether I was nearing the corniced edge, which way was up, or down.  Hmmm.

Check out the lip of the cornice!  Though we were able to glimpse the Pfeiff intermittantly, the prospects were looking iffy for the NW Couloir...

Here's one of the rare sightings of the peak from the ridge traverse that afternoon.  Upon closer inspection, neither one of us felt too psyched about the huge wind slab high on the Hanging Snowfield, the last 200 or so feet to the top.  We decided--instead--to ski one of the chutes off of the Maybird headwall.  Yep, we waffled, but...

Tyler's the tiny dot just left of the rock buttress in the foreground.  The top was pretty drifted, and so we decided Tyler should ski it with a rope.  Nothing happened, and despite the flat light, we had a tremendous run.

 Looking back at our tracks--YAAARR!

The entire time following our run into Upper Maybird, we second guessed ourselves about bailing.  But as we continued down the drainage, it seemed we made the prudent call--it was probably OK, but, I figure, whatev... 

 A huge crown from Sunday night's natural avalanche cycle.  This one appeared to be about 4-5 feet deep!

Another crown from the same cycle, this one just to the north of the former.  Both slides occurred on Table Top, which, I believe, is the colloquial name for the top of Maybird apron.

Tyler and I opted to ski out the apron to the road; all that new, deep snow made the near-epic stream crossing all worth it!
The gang was back together for Day 4.  As we drove toward the canyons, several options for where to ski that day were suggested, but as we made our way to White Pine, the three of us notices two sets of tracks in the Y Couloir--a bummer, as we were hoping to nab first tracks, but a plus in that the motivated pair ahead of us that morning had already broken trail.  As we left Highway 210 for the streambed, another car pulled up and a group of four proceeded to follow us up the steep chute--not exactly the ideal situation for us, as any avalanche or debris, or even an errant ski or pole could potentially kill anyone who was below us.  Oh well.

 After the initial 400 or so vertical feet, much to our delight, we discovered that the pair who had beaten us to the punch that morning had only skied the last tiny bit.  The entire shot is nearly 3,200 vertical feet, and so, fortunately for us, we were destined for fresh snow, but only after we suffered through elbow-deep trailbreaking. 

 Andrea and Tyler follow the boot-track. This spot is less than halfway up, I think.  We still had some ways to go...

 Getting higher, but still not there.

The three of us agreed that the final 100 or so feet to the ridge would be too deep, and possibly too wind-loaded to justify climbing/skiing.  Here, Tyler readies himself as the gang of four who had brazenly followed us arrives; they turned out to be super-nice folks from Colorado, and despite our fears that they would snake us, the group thanked us for the track and graciously let us get first tracks...

 The view after the first 30 turns--still, something like 3k feet to go!

 Andrea less than halfway down.  And yes, the snow was that good!

 Andrea "rat-stabbing" her way down the Y.

 And more...

 Then, with about a thousand feet more to go, we ran into even more people booting the chute--despite us and the other four who had yet to start down!  We waited for the fastest three, then, with permission, skied past the last guy--who was dragging--and is just visible right of Tyler's pack.  Let the shit-show begin!

Tyler, always stylin'.

 A very foreshortened view of the mighty Y.  If you look closely or can zoom in on the image, the Coloradans are visible high in the chute.  We skied it from the top of the left fork, way at the top of the photo.

 Still PSYCHED to get more, we hopped into the car and after re-upping on PBRs at the 7-Eleven, drove into Big Cottonwood to ski the West Couloir of Kessler Peak.  To get there, we had to first skin up the Argenta slidepath, a great 3,200 vertical foot shot in its own right.

 Tyler brings up the rear.  There were still lines of untracked pow left in Argenta.

Tyler ascending the upper bowl.  After topping out on the ridge, the three of us decided to ski Argenta instead--the high winds and the late hour convinced us to call it on what turned out to be one huge day!
The remainder of the week saw even more snow fall on the Wasatch, and after a rest-day spent gorging ourselves at our favorite Indian lunch buffet and watching old episodes of NOVA from the library, we got after it again on Saturday--another 6k+ day, this time in Millcreek canyon, north of the Cottonwoods.  It was a good week.  YAAARR!

Two very good days in the mountains.

At about 8:30 Monday night, my good friend and frequent adventure-partner, Shawn, called from the mouth of Little Cottonwood Canyon--he just recently took a part-time gig at the Alta Deep Powder House tuning skis, though his full-time job is as the head mechanic at Contender, one of the city's best bike shops.  "There's already like, about a foot of new snow up here," he told me.  I'd been checking the NOAA weather forecast--for Tuesday--all that day from work, and, according to their models, we were only supposed to receive 4 to 6" overnight...
The next morning, our friend Andrea picked us up at 7 am.  According to the early-morning Utah Avalanche Center report, up to 16" of 8% had been deposited overnight, the majority of which ended up in upper Little Cottonwood.  As it turned out, UDOT was doing control work on the LCC road 'til 9:30, so despite our ambitions to take advantage of an earlier start, we were forced--instead--to sit still in traffic near the mouth, arriving at the trailhead just after 10, the second car in the lot.

 Here's Coby after topping out above Scotty's Bowl--the view looking due west, with the Pfiefferhorn at far left.

Nearly there!  Here's looking NW toward the Salt Lake valley and the Oquirrh range, with the Salt Lake Twins to Coby's right.

 After skiing a shot down a feature we've christened, "the Tube," we decided to take a short detour on our way to the Tri-Chutes to ski the apron of the Birthday Chutes.  Here's the view to the NW from nearly the top, which had to be avoided that day due to high winds.

 That's Coby linking turns on lap 2, getting the hang of it.  Far right in this frame are my tracks--I caught a tip and nearly ate it, but managed to avoid wallowing in the deep snow.

 Coby and Andrea climb the skin-track, with the entire place to ourselves.  The Pink Pine ridge is visible in the upper left, with the huge Tanner's slide path in half-light, half-shade on the opposite side of the canyon.

 Here's what we came for--deep, untracked powder in the Tri-Chutes.  All the day's trail-breaking has been well worth the effort!

Nearly to the top of the apron section--had more stable conditions permitted, there's still something like a thousand vertical feet of skiing above us! 

Coby lays down perfect fall-line tracks down the middle chute while Andrea and I squeeze in one more lap before skiing out to the trailhead!

 A successful mission to the Tri-Chutes; Coby stands below the proud carnage!

 Coby skis out the mid-section of White Pine, with Red Top and the Tri-Chutes area in the sun.

 The light that afternoon was stunning--here's the north wall of Little Cottonwood, on the out-run.  Ten more minutes 'til Beer-thirty!

That evening, as we drove back down to the valley, I noticed that no one had yet skied the Y Couloir, a steep, due north-facing, 3,200 vertical foot chute.  I immediately thought, "Dawn Patrol," and tried several times--in vain--that night to convince my best friend and ski partner, Tyler, to wake up at 4 am and boot up the monster by headlamp...  I was on the schedule to open the shop at 10, and so in order to pull it off, we'd have to get motivated!  Tyler, however, was not psyched, and so I slept in, then went to work.  The Y would have to wait 'til Thursday.

Thursday, 6:30 am--despite rallying, as we slowed down around the bend--just before the pull-out for the Y--we all instantly notice that there are at least three tiny points of light--headlamps--visible high in the couloir, and as we approach the plowed shoulder, that there are at least five vehicles already parked there--too many suitors!  The problem with the Y is that if anything happens above you as you ascend it--like, for instance, an avalanche--then you and your partner are like sitting ducks:  the chute is simply too narrow, the granite walls that the line both sides too steep, and so the unlucky are likely to get flushed all the way to the bottom.  Prudently, we opted--instead--to go check out something else; it's really no fun dealing with fried nerves all day.

After about five minutes of deliberation in the White Pine lot, we agreed to go have a look at the Coal Pit Headwall, one of the classic mountain ski-tours of all the Wasatch.  Tyler and I had skied it a few weeks earlier in good conditions, but our late start on that day saw us boot nearly all the way up another spectacular line, the Hypodermic Needle, only to pass it over in the interest of the time--I had been second guessing our decision to skip it everyday since, and so I was keen to link them both.  As we departed the White Pine trailhead, two of the hardest skiers in the Wasatch passed us like we were standing still--they were so fast, in fact, that they very nearly lapped us up the Needle, but were good enough to lay down a beautiful skinner--not too steep, yet still efficient.  There's something to be said about being second.

On our way to ski our first run, I first had to make a brief pit-stop at the gear cache to retrieve my crampons, a tool and a rope for the Coal Pit rappel.  The cache is hidden in upper Maybird cirque, at the foot of the 11, 326 ft. Pfeifferhorn--in my opinion, the crown jewel of the range.

This is the scenery from the top of our first run down, a line known to long-time Wasatch locals as the Hogum 200, the western shot off of the Maybird-Hogum divide.  Far to the right one can see the shaded profiles of Montgomery and the Sliver, the two other chutes of the Thunder Ridge Triple Crown.
The obvious line in the center of the photo is the Hypodermic Needle; if you look very closely, you'll notice at least one very small, shadowed figure--Hardman #1, I think--putting in the skin-track and just about to enter into the chute-proper, near the base of a large rock buttress, just to the right of the tree in the foreground.  The north summit of Thunder Mountain is the also the start of the Coal Pit Headwall, the shaded, angled terrain to the right of the Needle.

Here's a really foreshortened view looking up the Hypodermic; it's obscured by the shaded area visible near the top of the tree on the left.

Looking back toward the Hogum 200 and our tracks from earlier that morning...

Andrea on the skin-track, just above the large cliff band.

There's the Pfiefferhorn again, this time, viewed from the northwest.  The prominent white ramp is the NW Couloir, another Wasatch MEGA-classic!

Andrea putting in the boot-track, just below the top of the Needle.

A view down the chute "to end all chutes," according to Andrew McLean's guide, the Chuting Gallery.  1,100 feet of fifty degree bliss, followed by a enormous apron. 
This photo does the line no justice, as it's extremely foreshortened.

Tyler styling the last bit of the upper chute; the snow was not the lightest I've skied, but soft enough for a nice, long thigh-searing kick-turn run. 

The aftermath, with Tyler skinning up and out toward the top of the Coal Pit Headwall.

Tyler and Andrea traverse to the ridge separating the Coal Pit gulch from the main Hogum's drainage.

The Coal Pit--it's nearly 5k vertical feet to the LCC road.  This classic outing has a bit of everything:  a long approach, a steep, rock-lined chute off the headwall, then a series of wide open, gladed powder skiing to a final corkscrew tube. 

The moon, high above the Coal Pit buttress.

Our tracks--as well as those of the two hardmen--off of the severely foreshortened headwall.