Report from January 24, 2025

5 am wake up.

Hiking by 6:37 am.

11ºF when I started climbing.

My goal was a rocky chute at the headwall of the drainage.

As I approached the headwall, I noticed the line that I’d skied 3 days before.

The snow was terrific in that zone.

NE-facing, just subalpine, and wind-protected.

“Hanging Snowfield”

Wasatch Mountains, UT

• Summit:  10,073 feet 
• Car:  6,195 feet
• Vertical From Car:  3,991 feet (a little up and down on the ascent)
• Vertical skied:  2,573 feet
  
• Max Pitch:  42?º
• Average Pitch:  36?º
• Aspect:  Northeast
• Distance: 9.28 miles round trip 
• Car to Summit Time: 4 hours & 16 minutes
• Car to Car Time: 6 hours & 1 minute
• Recommended Equipment:  Mini snow shoes, crampons, ice axe, skins

My eye traced the ridgeline, looking for other fun lines with fresh snow.

I found a line I liked and decided to save it for later.

As I climbed higher, I saw the light tickling the tip of a gorgeous, hanging snowfield.

There was one and only one way through.

2 cliffbands protect the line.

The bottom cliffband is huge with no way through, but there is a way around.

The middle cliff has only one ski path through right now.

That was my route.

I couldn’t find a name for this line anywhere so I called it by an obvious name: “Hanging Snowfield.”

I skied up and down and up and down, working to find a smooth way to the base of the cliff.

I ascended a ramp to the mini-chute that led to the hanging snowfield.

Here I switched to booting and struggled in deep, facted, rotten snow, often bottoming out on the granite slabs beneath.

The slabs had no holds whatsoever, so trying to get a grip on them with my rock-hard ski boots was comical.

I slipped and struggled and swore and floundered up.

I was really hoping that just above the mini-chute, I could switch back to skiing and not have to boot up the entire face.

The slope looked just low enough angle to skin and with relief, I switched back to skis and skins.

I was racing the clock now.

The face was drenched in sunlight, but it wouldn’t last.

I knew that the sun would begin exiting the hanging snowfield around 11 am.

I started up the mini-chute at 9:45 am.

I kept my head down and battled up skinning as steeply as I could.

My skinner wound around the small cliff bands on the face and delivered me to the ridgeline safely.

Only a few spots on the face held bad snow – generally where the aspect turned more southeast.

Aside from those sun-cooked patches, the snow felt good.

17-day-old, recrystallized Alaskan Velvet.

On top, I changed my plan from skiing right into the face to moving up higher and skiing a zone with a bit more NE aspect to it.

The snow at the top of the sunny part of the face had quite a bit of hard, crusty snow.

The snow a bit higher up and more northeast facing was soft and tender.

I lingered not on top.

The light was already leaving the face.

I made a plan, clicked my poles, counted down, and dropped in.

Right away, the snow was splendid.

Speed was fun, and I found a little tree air I hadn’t seen in my planning.

The next air was a large donger with a very steep, uphill take off.

I slowed down, calculating the correct speed to hit the uphill ramp and not punch into it.

It was jerky, but it worked out.

I repeatedly slashed above the small cliff band before cutting back in bad snow to line up to slip through another small cliff band and onto the final hanging snowfield.

The last snowfield was so thin.

Rocks jutted out and I skied as light as I could.

At the base of the snowfield, I cut left and found my bootpack up the final exit above the first big cliff band.

The snow was as thin as a potato chip, so I straightlined, throwing a long, right speed check turn onto the last hanging snowfield above the massive cliff at the base of the line.

From there, I skied right along the long ramp and had to drop a couple of mini cliffs to access the creek and my way home.

I was tempted to climb back up the opposite side of the creek to have a look at my track, but thought better of it.

The creek was nice until it became choked with bushes.

The bushwhack down to cross the creek was real.

Once across the creek, I followed a single ski track that led me right back to the trail.

For some reason, I felt great, not hungry, and not too tired.

The endorphins were rolling through me.

I tromped down the trail singing Frank Sinatra’s “Summer Wind,” happy as a pig in sh*t.

These are my favorite conditions in Utah.

Long, cold, dry spells with low avalanche danger, so you can go high and there’s no one around. 

After this run I met up with my wife and skied Park City Mountain Resort for a couple of hours and felt great.

Thanks, Utah!

onX Backcountry Stats