TeleMac
New member
There's nothing really can touch skiing, is there?" Nick said.
"The way it feels when you first drop off on a long run."
"Huh," said George. "It's too swell to talk about."
E. Hemingway, "Cross-Country Snow"*
Just back from the Tetons where we spent a long weekend celebrating my lil' brother Matt's 40th. Aside from Matt, our crew was older brother Sean, bros-in-law Mike & Tim, my 78 YO dad Jack and myself. The gargantuan snow totals (30+ inches, including 18 in one day) offer only a glimpse into the extraordinary impact that the recent storm had on our trip to the Tetons. So with burning legs and a light heart (and despite Hemingway's admonition), I offer this quick recap.
Upon arrival Wednesday afternoon, we raced over to Snowking for a few warm-up runs (a very legit deal at $28 for the afternoon). The side trip to the steep & icy slopes of Snowking served two purposes -- (1) to give us a magnificent (and rare) view of the Grand and Teewinot; and (2) to give us a point of reference for the epic snow that was riding in from the Pacific. It would be all smiles and laughter from here on.
Thursday started with a groomer in boot-high "Cowboy Powder" (aka dust on crust) down Ranger beneath the gondi. Having gotten our legs, we headed south for a few rippers in Bivouac Woods, followed by forays down Alta Chutes (3, 2 & 1 -- blast-off!) and a truly bewildering and failed traverse down SPT (ending in the sunbaked but pow-cloaked shite that was North Colter/Elk Alley). After a welcome lunch at Nick Wilson's Cowboy Cafe, we stole a Bivouac or two, a Tower Three and Hoops Gap and ended the day with a blast through Expert Chutes to the filled-in woods below. With 6-8 more inches having fallen throughout the day and very "challenging" visibility, Thursday gave a sweet foretaste of the delish conditions to come. Our repast that night -- 12 YO Van Winkle's bourbon and PBR courtesy of local buddy George, followed by dinner at Cascade. Right.
On Friday, we breakfasted to the sounds of the 1812 Overture in the distance (the Patrollers needed to be virtuoso percussionists to control the 10 or more new inches that had fallen during the night and that was still falling). Matt, Tim and I took the Moose Creek Quad from our doorstep to the UP to the base where the masses were assembled for the inevitable 30-45 minute wait for the gondi. Rather than wait in line for the chance to fight for not-so-first tracks on Sublette and Thunder, we smugly skated on to the Teewinot Quad (which had a 30-45 second wait), shot over to Apres Vous (2 minute wait) where we feasted on floaty knee, waist and chest deep pow in Saratoga Bowl and on Teewinot Face. Perhaps our best morning ever?
Shortly after noon, we met up with Sean and Mike for a 15-minute PB&J break at the base and then headed to Teewinot and Saratoga for an encore. After joining with Rick, a local friend of Sean's, we went for some Moran Face shots (coinciding with a sunny break in the storm). With the lift in cloud cover and our return to the center of the resort, we were stunned to see that the groomer beneath Casper was absolutely trashed (a herd of elephants could not have done more damage). Like Sherman's Army, we witnessed similar carnage as we headed south. Fortunately, Rick found us refuge in the blessedly deep, somewhat heavy, and relatively untracked Bernie's Bowl. Finally, we took our one and only ride of the trip on the East Ridge chair to 10, 450. Matty and Tim took a quick trip over to Corbet's Couloir where Matt's dreams of blood & glory were mercifully snuffed (To quote Matt: "My knees were shaking just looking in. Even the patrollers were saying no f'in way!" ; To quote Tim: "Good thing I was wearing my diapers."). Meanwhile, Mike, Rick and I stole over to the far side of Rendezvous Bowl for some knee deep, windblown, quasi-powder. After 10-15 easy bounds down the steep face, my skis & boots were grabbed simultaneously by a snow gremlin and I was launched into my first full-on endo since I was in 2nd grade gym class. None the worse for the wear, we reunited with M&T for a night cap on Hobacks. While conditions were less than perfect (our legs and the snow both being somewhat worse for the war, er wear), we reveled in the valley view and late afternoon sunshine on that most classic of runs. To top it off, we joined Dad and Sean for fondue and many pints at the Alpenhof while the bluesman lamented the love of a "big bottomed girl in a short, short skirt". A tuneful bookend to the cannon blasts of morning.
Matt's Birthday dawned cold and promising (a few more inches having fallen overnight). Hungry for adventure and with much to celebrate, we hit the road early for the scenic 55 mile trek through Idaho to Grand Targhee. The ride over Teton Pass made a big impression on us all (Mt. Glory is truly awesome), but especially on Matt and Tim who vowed to come back. To be sure, Targhee was the right call. For as stunned as we were to witness the thrashing that J-Hole had taken in a few hours, we were just as stunned (and thrilled) to see that Targhee, while no virgin, was still blanketed in mostly uncut pow from top to bottom. After a few magic carpet rides beneath the main lift and a Good, Bad or Ugly thrown in for good measure, we ventured over to Sacajawea (skier's far left). With apologies to Meat Loaf, we found "paradise by the Northern Lights." A mere 25 feet out of sight from the gapers lay a 3-5 foot deep treasure trove of cold smoke and deep woods. Amen. At lunch we joined Dad on the deck for the best burgers ever ("Ooh, the harder they come, they harder they fall, one and all . . ."). Needless to say, we spent most of the afternoon back in our own little Valhalla (experience tells me that Ullr's lair must be close to 'Ghee), with a few side trips down the face of Fred and over the precipice at Das Boat [sic]. As I wrote at the beginning -- EPIC.
Peace, TeleMac
"The way it feels when you first drop off on a long run."
"Huh," said George. "It's too swell to talk about."
E. Hemingway, "Cross-Country Snow"*
Just back from the Tetons where we spent a long weekend celebrating my lil' brother Matt's 40th. Aside from Matt, our crew was older brother Sean, bros-in-law Mike & Tim, my 78 YO dad Jack and myself. The gargantuan snow totals (30+ inches, including 18 in one day) offer only a glimpse into the extraordinary impact that the recent storm had on our trip to the Tetons. So with burning legs and a light heart (and despite Hemingway's admonition), I offer this quick recap.
Upon arrival Wednesday afternoon, we raced over to Snowking for a few warm-up runs (a very legit deal at $28 for the afternoon). The side trip to the steep & icy slopes of Snowking served two purposes -- (1) to give us a magnificent (and rare) view of the Grand and Teewinot; and (2) to give us a point of reference for the epic snow that was riding in from the Pacific. It would be all smiles and laughter from here on.
Thursday started with a groomer in boot-high "Cowboy Powder" (aka dust on crust) down Ranger beneath the gondi. Having gotten our legs, we headed south for a few rippers in Bivouac Woods, followed by forays down Alta Chutes (3, 2 & 1 -- blast-off!) and a truly bewildering and failed traverse down SPT (ending in the sunbaked but pow-cloaked shite that was North Colter/Elk Alley). After a welcome lunch at Nick Wilson's Cowboy Cafe, we stole a Bivouac or two, a Tower Three and Hoops Gap and ended the day with a blast through Expert Chutes to the filled-in woods below. With 6-8 more inches having fallen throughout the day and very "challenging" visibility, Thursday gave a sweet foretaste of the delish conditions to come. Our repast that night -- 12 YO Van Winkle's bourbon and PBR courtesy of local buddy George, followed by dinner at Cascade. Right.
On Friday, we breakfasted to the sounds of the 1812 Overture in the distance (the Patrollers needed to be virtuoso percussionists to control the 10 or more new inches that had fallen during the night and that was still falling). Matt, Tim and I took the Moose Creek Quad from our doorstep to the UP to the base where the masses were assembled for the inevitable 30-45 minute wait for the gondi. Rather than wait in line for the chance to fight for not-so-first tracks on Sublette and Thunder, we smugly skated on to the Teewinot Quad (which had a 30-45 second wait), shot over to Apres Vous (2 minute wait) where we feasted on floaty knee, waist and chest deep pow in Saratoga Bowl and on Teewinot Face. Perhaps our best morning ever?
Shortly after noon, we met up with Sean and Mike for a 15-minute PB&J break at the base and then headed to Teewinot and Saratoga for an encore. After joining with Rick, a local friend of Sean's, we went for some Moran Face shots (coinciding with a sunny break in the storm). With the lift in cloud cover and our return to the center of the resort, we were stunned to see that the groomer beneath Casper was absolutely trashed (a herd of elephants could not have done more damage). Like Sherman's Army, we witnessed similar carnage as we headed south. Fortunately, Rick found us refuge in the blessedly deep, somewhat heavy, and relatively untracked Bernie's Bowl. Finally, we took our one and only ride of the trip on the East Ridge chair to 10, 450. Matty and Tim took a quick trip over to Corbet's Couloir where Matt's dreams of blood & glory were mercifully snuffed (To quote Matt: "My knees were shaking just looking in. Even the patrollers were saying no f'in way!" ; To quote Tim: "Good thing I was wearing my diapers."). Meanwhile, Mike, Rick and I stole over to the far side of Rendezvous Bowl for some knee deep, windblown, quasi-powder. After 10-15 easy bounds down the steep face, my skis & boots were grabbed simultaneously by a snow gremlin and I was launched into my first full-on endo since I was in 2nd grade gym class. None the worse for the wear, we reunited with M&T for a night cap on Hobacks. While conditions were less than perfect (our legs and the snow both being somewhat worse for the war, er wear), we reveled in the valley view and late afternoon sunshine on that most classic of runs. To top it off, we joined Dad and Sean for fondue and many pints at the Alpenhof while the bluesman lamented the love of a "big bottomed girl in a short, short skirt". A tuneful bookend to the cannon blasts of morning.
Matt's Birthday dawned cold and promising (a few more inches having fallen overnight). Hungry for adventure and with much to celebrate, we hit the road early for the scenic 55 mile trek through Idaho to Grand Targhee. The ride over Teton Pass made a big impression on us all (Mt. Glory is truly awesome), but especially on Matt and Tim who vowed to come back. To be sure, Targhee was the right call. For as stunned as we were to witness the thrashing that J-Hole had taken in a few hours, we were just as stunned (and thrilled) to see that Targhee, while no virgin, was still blanketed in mostly uncut pow from top to bottom. After a few magic carpet rides beneath the main lift and a Good, Bad or Ugly thrown in for good measure, we ventured over to Sacajawea (skier's far left). With apologies to Meat Loaf, we found "paradise by the Northern Lights." A mere 25 feet out of sight from the gapers lay a 3-5 foot deep treasure trove of cold smoke and deep woods. Amen. At lunch we joined Dad on the deck for the best burgers ever ("Ooh, the harder they come, they harder they fall, one and all . . ."). Needless to say, we spent most of the afternoon back in our own little Valhalla (experience tells me that Ullr's lair must be close to 'Ghee), with a few side trips down the face of Fred and over the precipice at Das Boat [sic]. As I wrote at the beginning -- EPIC.
Peace, TeleMac
