Conditions Report
Report from Wednesday, June 21, 2023
Yesterday was the first day of summer so we went skiing.
We had heard a quiet buzz about there being a long wiggle running down the length of Suicide Chute on Mt. Superior and wanted to go see it for ourselves.
When we got to the base of that Blonde Bitch of a mountain we saw the obvious white track.
The pearly wiggle rudely snaked back and forth up the peak’s dusty-brown apron before banking left around a rocky corner, past a waterfall, and up the couloir all the way to its crest.
Some 200+ skiers and snowboarders had set this brute in the days leading up to our arrival, and it was fully in like it had been placed right under the Little Cloud chair at neighboring Snowbird.
That’s a first we thought.
We started in hiking shoes on dirt until we hit the snowline about three or four hundred feet up and then started booting in ski and snowboard boots.
The snow was a dusty, reddish-brown color that revealed its deteriorating health.
It was June 21st, the summer solstice, and we crept up at a leisurely pace with the wind coordinating a swift, cool breeze that kept us from sweating.
There was no hurry; the days of rushing and rat racing to get to the top of a classic Wasatch line like Suicide were by and gone and we hiked up in t-shirts and sunglasses, stopping at every excuse to conversate about something and slow down the hike.
Near the waterfall at the mouth of the chute, an angry skier slashing hot dog-style hop turns barged past me at an uncomfortably close distance, yelling about how a “bunch of morons” had ruined the run by putting moguls down it.
He just didn’t get it.
After a smooth bootpack alongside the white snake, we were at the top, soaking in views and talking about what we were going to do when we actually couldn’t ski anymore.
Maybe go here, maybe do this, maybe try and get paid for that…
Much bullshitting later and we were ready to drop.
I went first, sliding into the wiggle smoothly.
The snow was great: slick, granular, and confidence-inspiring—you could relaxedly ride the snake all the way to its head.
I flowed down the wiggle all the way to the base without stopping, pulling to a stop near budding bushes.
Standing on the muddy, melting snow I was surrounded by green everywhere.
It was spring—no, it was summer—and it felt like it.
Weather
Photos
