Report from Thursday, February 2, 2023

On the final step of the stairs extending toward the sky there’s a passageway to a gulch of mythical proportions. 

The steep, 152-acre starting zone lined with rocks and cliffs waited just beyond the entrance from the saddle, looming above a city enshrouded in air pollution.

The oblique rays of the setting sun turned the mountains a glowing orange, then pink, and finally purple. 

I dropped into the slide path with one of the last of the sun’s rays slicing across the forehead of the beast, illuminating my first couple of turns before skiing into shade. 

The powder was smooth and fast—a little old and tracked out but phenomenal nonetheless. 

Because there were thousands of feet of fall-line skiing in front of my tips I was able to make long GS turns down the steep face and completely relax my body.

I took 10 turns.

Then 20.

50. 

Even more after that and I still wasn’t halfway down the line.

After a while we stopped to rest our legs because they were on fire. 

We followed a twisty, windy gully with towering rock walls on either side down to the bottom of the drainage, every so often looking back at the massive line above us we had just skied.

It felt like it was already miles away.

After an unreasonable amount of skiing and then another mile or so of raw bushwhacking we were back to the highway below. 

The line felt like it was never going to end and nightfall was rapidly descending upon us by the time we got back. 

Once at the car, I looked up to see a full moon rising above a snowy peak, its aura radiant and raging against the coming of night. 

I took a long look at it before getting in my car and sailing off toward the buzz of the bustling city.

It won’t be long before I’m back.

Avalanche Forecast 

Weather

Photos