Redemption. Back on top after a disastrous bonk two outings ago (see post, Farmington Canyon, April 9, 2021). No more pain pills and the resulting nausea. Long-range strength is back. Pushing the pace and getting complaints to slow down.
Today we parked at the Utah State Capital, e-biked the six miles up City Creek Canyon to the end of the pavement. The road was snow covered about 200 yards before the pavement ended, but we pushed the bikes through and chained the bikes to a tree just past the final gate. We switched to ski boots then booted the 1.33 miles to the junction of City Creek Canyon and Cottonwood Gulch, continued booting up to the Treasure Box Mine, about a fourth-mile up Cottonwood Gulch, then finally clicked into skis and skinned to the summit of Grandview Peak. The booting up to the mine was presumably quicker than skinning due to the intermittent snow cover, which would have required constant “skis-on, skis-off,” but the booting may have been equally frustrating due to constant post-holing when on snow. Beginning at the Treasure Box Mine the snow was mostly continuous, there were still several spots where we skinned over shorts stretches of bare-ground.
The lower fourth-mile of Cottonwood Gulch is brushy with many wind-downed trees to climb over, but above the Treasure Box Mine, Cottonwood Gulch has wonderful, brush-free access due to its miracle natural half-pipe (subway?), which offers a full mile-long, brush-free, albeit winding path to the open, upper basin of Cottonwood Gulch. You pop out of that half-pipe and Shazam!, you’re staring, mouth-agape, at the massive upper bowl of Cottonwood Gulch, just below the southwest face of Grandview Peak. From there it’s just a steep, hop-skip-jump to the west-saddle of Grandview, then a short, eastward ridge-hop to the summit.
Rest, drink, eat and de-skin on the summit (un-skin? - sounds like a Mel Brooks line), we then ski the huge, upper bowl of Cottonwood Gulch in that easy, over-ripe corn. The Spring of 2021 was a corn-snow failure in the Wasatch. The Wasatch is not known for great corn snow anyway, and the Spring of 2021 confirmed that reputation. The best corn is found in environs that receive high-density (wetter) snow than the Wasatch, like the Sierras or Mt. Shasta, considered the best corn-skiing in the America. The Wasatch, with its famed powder and low density snow, struggles in the corn category because most of our snow is air, not frozen water. Wasatch snow is like cotton candy while Mt. Shasta's is like salt-water taffy. Soft and delicate vs. firm and supportable. In the spring, when it starts to melt, that low density snow becomes an hindrance to great corn skiing, unless we get many contiguous freeze/thaw cycles.
This spring the corn never really developed in the Wasatch due to moderate temperatures. Great corn ripens only when the days are warm and the nights are cold, creating many freeze/thaw cycles. After freezing at night that frozen snow turns briefly to corn when the strengthening, spring sun starts to soften the surface. That initial softening brings corn (big grains of snow) which rewards one with truly euphoric turns. The joy is equal to that of skiing 15 inches of 2% powder. It really is. Maybe more so due to easier access (no trail-breaking), warmer temperatures and it’s extremely easy to ski. It is simply joyful, idiot-proof skiing. If there is a downside, great corn is very fleeting. One must be patient, your timing akin to that of an OCD accountant with a Swiss-wit. If your timing is late you get wet-cement, if too early you get rock-hard, scratchy turns.
This spring the nights were generally too warm to provide a strong refreeze so the snow often remained mushy through the night, then, when the sun brought warmth, the snow quickly turned to grabby, wet cement. Tough skiing has abounded much of the spring of 2021, with a few powder days when winter briefly returned. Today was a bit of a departure, there was a weak refreeze and when we reached the upper basin, the surface was too soft for real corn, but it wasn’t wet cement either. I’ll call it over-ripe corn, and it was fun, easy turning, just not the creamy corn that brings pure ecstasy . . . but close.
On the exit, after skiing the big upper basin, we skied high on the east side of Cottonwood Gulch, hoping to get more steep turns in the Aspens that we saw while ascending, but it was a brushy disappointment: three turns in nicely spaced Aspens were followed by brushy hell. It was a no-brainer to drop back down to the natural halfpipe and ski the usual route. The halfpipe offers a brush-free descent, and an extremely enjoyable, quick exit down Cottonwood Gulch. That half-pipe is a gift from God, proof of Devine love for back-country skiers. And that halfpipe is fun. Up, down, back and forth on banked turns that go on and on forever. Not much amplitude off the rounded, slack lips, but pretty damn fun none the less.
At the Cottonwood Gulch/City Creek junction, it was a return to booting and post-holing that mile back to the bikes. We transitioned to runners, then a quick bike ride down City Creek brought us back to the car at the Capital. A great day. It’s good to feel strong again. (SHIT! Strike ‘again,’ reeks of that shit-head Trump.)
Summit of Grandview Peak, 9,410 feet.
A quick break at the entrance of Cottonwood Gulch.
The south side of City Creek Canyon has many openings in the timber which look like fun skiing.
Upper City Creek is beautiful, pristine, clear water.
Rusted bull-wheel at the Treasure Box Mine, where we clicked into skis and started skinning.
Grandview Peak comes into view just after entering the natural half-pipe that leads to the upper basin.
Grandview and half-pipe.
B. Fuller in the lower half-pipe.
Virgin Mary etched in the rock.
Grandview, getting closer.
Snow quickly disappearing from the West side of Cottonwood Gulch. The Big Drops of Bountiful Ridge are on the opposite side of this wall.
Brett in the upper basin of Cottonwood Gulch.
The West Saddle of Grandview Peak. The summit is a short climb up that ridge above Brett.
The view into upper Mill Creek Basin, otherwise know as Mueller Park Canyon, from the West Saddle of Grandview.
A great ski run into Mill Creek Basin, but too many snow-machines kill the ambiance and the snow.
Brett, heading to the summit, climbing up the west ridge of Grandview.
Brett almost there, view SE towards East Canyon.
View SW down Cottonwood Gulch from the summit of Grandview Peak, SLC seen way below.
View north from the summit of Grandview Peak.
View west and Antelope Island from the summit of Grandview.
Skiing the upper basin of Cottonwood Gulch. Nothing extreme, just fun, easy turns that go on forever.
I broke my ski pole today and replaced it with a branch from a Douglas Fir. Red-neck for sure, but it worked! Without thinking I even did the double-pole-smack to free any clinging snow off the “baskets." (in the video, coming soon.)
Sooooo red-neck and cave-man, errr excuse me, cave-person.
The snow was not powder but it was fun, easy turning today. The winter of 2020-21 started out very thin, barely enough snow to ski until mid-February, then it dumped for two-weeks straight and the avalanche danger was off the charts. It was too thin to ski then too scary to ski. Once the snow stabilized it seemed like unsupportable crusts ruled the world for weeks and weeks. Yeah, I’ve been critical of snow-whiners, but this year I have struggled to make elegant turns. I fight the base when it is not supportable. When one is carrying speed and then suddenly a ski breaks through and the other does not, it’s like catching a tip on a hidden tree-stump. I don’t often crash, but when I punch through a crust my arms windmill and butterfly, and I fight like hell to avoid a face-plant. The elegance of a finely crafted, perfectly balanced, carved turn was lost. I didn’t carve a proper back-country turn for weeks. I lost my Feng Shui. Finally, the last month has again brought easy turning. Even if not in perfect powder, the art of carving a ski has returned.
I rode the moto to the start of the single track in North Canyon. The upper North Canyon road was muddy and I crashed once, but I got there. I then booted to KPR and then switched to skis, but the snow was intermittent and fighting brush was like skiing in early November. The snow is going fast.
KPF melting quickly. It was brushy before Februaries dump, and it’s brushy again. It is growing back and will soon be like it was before any ‘adjustments' were made.
Snow stake almost free.
Nice to see green after a crusty winter.
56cm (22in) at Rudy’s Flat.
Probe tracks and dork shadows.
My ski pole exploded while skinning. Perhaps operator error, but my use was nothing too extreme, just pushing myself uphill per usual, then suddenly it falls apart. It certainly didn’t help when I yanked - hard - to free the plastic, internal camming yolk. It broke the cable stringing it all together. When I took it to the Black Diamond Warranty folks they just laughed, “Warranties on poles are good for like one year . . . Dooood!” Too bad for me, this was day 367 from purchase.
Rectangle Peak over Dead Tree Peak.
Antelope Island under Dead Tree Peak.
Skinner, looking back towards the Oquirhs.
Side-stepping down the rock outcrop above Rectangle Bowl, just at the top of the ski run “Scott Cutler’s Yellow Coat." The trail to the left (out of photo) is now bare and rocky so I took the snowy route and had to do some side-stepping.
Doug Fir, one of its dead branches made for a good ski pole.
Pine needles over rocks! After my last run, I skied down to the Mueller trail about a quarter mile north of Rudy’s Flat then shuffled along the trail back to Rudy’s, skinless because I was too lazy to re-skin.
Ski tracks are there, just not deep enough for contrast.
