All time coolest skiing experience

As I'm sure a fair number of yours do, my best ski day was a not bluebird and nipple deep, but a storm day. It was our last day at Whistler and the snow phone said 8 inches of new, but 160 KM/h winds at the top. The lifts did not start turning until around 11:00, and we grabbed 3rd chair up the Solar Coaster Express on Blackcomb, the highest lift open at the time. it was kinda sunny waiting for it to open, but was puking again and blowing real hard by around 10:30. We headed into the trees where the snow was at least 18 to 20 inches deep, and the flakes falling were thick and quater sized, the hardest I've ever seen it snow. Getting spit out onto the cattrack at the bottom,I was laughing my ass off at the deepest and most surreal tree run of my life; I regrouped with my father and head up for more. I was so focused on the skiing that first lap that I didn't notice it, but on our second run, which was even deeper, I heard it. The entire mountain was a muted soundroom, everything soft under the new snow, and silent, even the traverses and cat tracks. Skiing down through this sweetest silence facing the now invisible Fitzsimmons Valley, it rang through my ears. Every few minutes, an avy bomb was explode on Whistler, echoing across the valley like thunder, the ultimate in contrast. This muted world of storm skiing being periodically puncuated by the thunderous report of artillery. The sound was unlike anything I had ever heard, so jarring, yet to peaceful at the same time, an omen of things to come. It was one of those sounds I could listen to forever and never be bored of it, If I could relive that day I would only change a few things, remove all moguls from the woods, give us a local guide, make me feel well enough to ski 100% as opposed to about 60% and make that day be every day.
Despite having crappy snow and mediocre weather plaguing 6 out of 7 days of our trip and a midweek injury that could have taken me out for the season, that last day made me fall in love with Coastal/PNW skiing.

-Ben

Feel free to chime in and post yours, this is a really interesting topic, IMHO.

This is an easy one. I had skied PA most of my life with a few vermont/whiteface and Colorado trips thrown in but had never really experienced Powder skiing. But I had gotten a taste so it was off to CU for college. Mid-December rolls around and my freshamn year roommate(cumerritt) leave boulder at 5a.m. hoping for first tracks in Vails Back Bowls. Made it up there by 7:15 got our Warren Miller Comp tickets and headed into the line. We were right there as patrol dropped the rope into China bowl. First tracks in the deepest snow I had ever experienced. Never before had I experienced a real face shot. This run was 1800 feet or so of chest deep the entire way down. At that moment I realized that not only did I make the right decision coming to CU but that skis that were 70 in the waist sure as hell weren't going to cut it. The snow might not have been the lightest and there sure as hell wasn't anything sphinkter puckering but it was definetly the day that injected skiing into my veins.

-Here is an article I wrote that appeared on the front page of the Santa Cruz Sentinel the week before the SLC Olympics. It's a version of one of the best skiing days of my life. (It's tailored to gapers in Santa Cruz that have no idea what skiing really is.)

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Testing the downhill thrill: a S.C. skier’s Olympic course run

Editor’s Note: Cody Townsend is an 18-year-old downhill ski racer from Santa Cruz who is training in the early development program of the U.S. Ski Team. He was one of the first skiers to race the Olympic downhill course. Here’s what the Olympians will find when they compete there on Sunday.
By CODY TOWNSEND

Special to the Sentinel

My coach called to tell me the news I was looking forward to hearing all year: I was invited to be one of the first people to ski the 2002 Olympic Men’s Downhill course.

We were an elite group of 40 racers from around North America who were chosen to race the Grizzly, Snowbasin’s Men’s Downhill course.

But when my excitement settled, I realized something else: I was going to be a test dummy on America’s steepest, hardest, gnarliest ski course.

The thrill and the nervousness kicked in two months before the event.

I was going to cover 2 miles of ice in under two minutes. I would average more than 60 mph over the course and reach speeds of up to 90 mph.

That’s why my heart was beating through my chest wall and my stomach was rumbling like an earthquake as I went up the tin-can-shaped tram for my first run down this crazy course.

I stripped down into my speed suit and pushed into the starting shack.

The starter gave me five seconds to go. My heart was racing. Adrenaline was roaring through my veins.

I gave a push with my poles and a skate with my skis.

I was going more than 60 mph in under five seconds. I could have out-accelerated most cars.

I continued to speed up as I let my skis run straight down the thin strip of snow that lay through the rocks. The chute of snow opened up into a huge, steep bowl.

The next three turns down the bowl were wide open and extremely fast. So fast that the G-forces in the turns crushed me down into a butt-dragging squat.

Then the course funneled into what is called a flat. This was the only place in the course where I could hesitate or relax and not go tumbling into the 15-foot-high rope-mesh fence held up by big telephone poles.

But as soon as I relaxed, the flat was over.

A couple hundred feet in front of me, the ground disappeared, and within seconds I was soaring 15 feet off the ground, flying though the air at more than 60 mph.

As soon as I made my landing, I slammed on my ski edges to turn away from disaster. I narrowly missed the fence — an almost certain broken leg or blown knee — and was able to ski back into the course.

Because of the racers who ran before me, the course had turned into a mogul field fit for Jonny Moseley.

The bumps in the course made my head feel like it was stuck in a paint shaker.

With my teeth chattering and my head getting bounced around, all my eyes could see was sky, then snow, then sky, then snow.

Downhill racers have to rely on memory and brief glimpses of gates ahead to get them through.

The course smoothed out a little and sent me through gullies, rolls, bumps, knolls and banked turns, like a NASCAR track.

The course turned me again toward the fence and at the last second turned me away, skimming three feet from that heavy mesh net at 60 mph.

I got launched off rolls and landed square in a flat bottom compression. The impact was like getting pressed down into a roller coaster seat. But I didn’t have a seat to stop my momentum, so I slammed my back against the snow.

I popped myself back up with every bit of leg strength I had and got in my tuck again.

Then came the final pitch — the steepest, fastest, iciest part of the course.

I tried to turn into it.

I couldn’t.

The ice made my edges slip like I was skiing on marbles.

I tried to cut across the hill to the next gate, but because of the slick ice I kept sliding farther and farther away from where I wanted to go.

I barely made the final turn into the straightest and steepest part of the course.

It also was the fastest — so fast that when I lifted my head an inch out of my tuck I could feel the wind yank my helmet and head backward.

It was like sticking my head out of a Porsche barreling down I-5. And when I tucked my head down to my knees, I felt myself accelerate again.

The radar guns clocked my speed at almost 90 mph. My truck doesn’t even go that fast.

It was the biggest rush of my life.

I finished the course and slowly came to a stop. I couldn’t say a thing.

I looked at the emergency rescue helicopter parked at the bottom of the course.

Then, I looked back up at the mountain.

"Whoa," I thought, "that was gnarly."

Now I know exactly how the Olympians will feel as they race the downhill course on Sunday.

They’ll be exhausted and thrilled to have finished one of the hardest downhill courses in the world.

They’ll also be proud.

Day I spent up on Rondy with Thea hands down best day in my life thus far

Best pow day of my life, of which there have been few and far between, but hopefully that will change.

High school ski trips were always on thursday. There was no forcast for snow, but when I woke on thursday a few inches already lay on the ground. By noon over six inches lay on the ground outside of my high school in the east suburbs of Pittsburgh, PA. Fifty miles away, in the Laurel Highlands of Southern PA, over two feet of Utah style pow pow blanketed the slopes of Seven Springs. Around 12:30, school was called off, and everyone was told to leave. All of the ski club kids marched to the storage room, grabed our gear, and waited for the bus to show up. Finally, around one, it showed up and we hit the road.

Mr. P, the faculty advisor to the ski club, got on last, and did his usual speetch. No standing, swearing, smoking, blah blah blah, and then a wierd little smile crossed his face, because, unlike most high school ski club advisors, and unlike most high shool ski club members, Mr. P was no ordinary, dime a dozen weekend warrior. He was not there to socialize like all the prissy girls, nor was he like the kids that go on one trip all year just to try it. Mr. P, many years prior, had seen the light. Before he was a teacher, he had been a skier. Over many long busrides in the wee hours of the morning, I had learned that Mr. P had been around the block when it came to Skiing.

After growing up, like myself, skiing ice covered pimpels in western PA, he had spent several years as a ski bum in places out west; places like JH and Crested Butte. Only after several years living as a glorified dirt bag did he finally decide he needed to move on, and so he returned to his roots in PA to get an education, and to spread the stoke. Through college he had worked on the ski school at seven springs. Upon graduating he landed a job teaching at the High School that I would eventually attend.

When I saw that smile, that grin that adorns the faces of those who have seen the light, I knew things were going to be unreal. He then announced that he had just gotten off the phone with his wife, who had been at the mountain all day. (she is one hell of a skier herself, having spent her own time bumming in JH, and skiing on a regular basis with the likes of Doug Coombs and other sick legends) She had reported that over two feet had fallen, and that no one was there. All of the usual bus groups had cancelled. Of something like 30 buses expected that day, we were the only ones that showed. The hour long ride up there was nerve racking to say the least. Any of you that have spent hours in a car waiting for powder know what I am talking about.

When we got there, we unloaded, and those of us that acutally cared about powder, hurried our asses off to get ready. What was ussually a liesurly 20 minutes of gearing up turned into a mad dash for the locker room, followed by a mad dash for the lift line. All of the little gapers just stared, mouths agape, (heh) wondering where the hell was the fire?

My buddy Dave and I headed straight off of the lift for the trees. This late in the day, the runs were already skied to crud, but the trees were untouched. Just about everyone on this board knows the joys of skiing bottomless fluff under bluebird sky's, but how many of you have ever skied waist deep pow in the woods, at night, in the middle of a storm? Most of the tree runs at Seven Springs are adjacent to trails lit for night skiing, meaning that they are not so dark as to prevent skiing, but dark enough to give a very surreal glow to the whole experience. Every face shot glisstened an amazing shimer of green from the funky lighting. The snow falling from the heavens gleamed in what little artificial light that made it this deep into the woods. Every sound was muffled; all we heard was our own skiis and our own breathing. The long shadows cast by the trees combined with the facefulls of brilliant ice crystals will forever be etched in my memory.

That trip passed too quickly. The time to leave came, and we ran to the bus to make it on time. When we got there, Mr. P, knowing that we had seen the light as well, just smilled, and nodded his head. "You guys have it too, we are all sick."

Mr. P was the best teacher I ever had. While I took his astronomy class, it isn't the location of Orion's belt that I remember best about him, nor does it have anything to do with the phases of the moon. Mr. P helped show me a way of life. From him I learned a great deal about how endless the possiblities are. He was a man that gave up the life to come back to this snowless hell to help spread the stoke to mini maggots like myself; to help see to it that the torch be passed on, so that someday, I, too, can live the life, and know what it feels like to float down a mountain, standing on the ground but at the same time flying like a bird.

So many "best' skiing memories, but since I was in Whistler right after you were I'll talk about that one. I had gone to Jackson during winter break and had incredible snow and I was hoping for Whislter to be the same. The conditions, however, were horrendous. Rock solid ice. I was really worried by the third day of this. On the 4th day a storm rolled in and it snowed 20CM, but was super windy so no upper lifts opened. We skied trees all day and some stuff that we could hike to off the harmony chair (which was closed). That was a start and we knew the next day was going to be ridiculous.

Got up early, they had gotten more snow overnight but it had been windy. Booked it up to Peak Chair and waited in line. It was awesome to be standing in line looking up at the bowls which were pristine and untouched. Everyone was sitting around talking and as soon as we heard the beep that signified the chairs about to start there was a huge rush to click in. Everyone stopped talking and ran back to their skis and all you could here was click, click, click, it was awesome. When the chair didn't start right away everyone laughed cause we were so ridiculous.

The Peak started up about 3 min later and we got 15th chair up. I had the headcam on and ready to go. We got off the chair and bolted straight for the first couloir which turned out to be incredible. Dropped right in and had first tracks down the whole thing. THe snow was dense because of the wind and I just floated huge big turns and the snow was so creamy and deep it was amazing. I picked up a lot of speed and it didn't even matter because the snow was so smooth. I got to the bottom and just laughed my ass off with the other kid I was riding with. We both agreed it was the best run of our life. S
tanding in line for our second run, someone pointed and shouted and a guy appeared on top of Air Jordan. I couldn't believe I was about to witness the infamous Air Jordan. Whoever this guy was, sick local, or pro, dropped the first one almost lost it, recovered with a swooping turn and dropped the 2nd cliff huge and stuck it. THen skied down a little further and dropped a 40ft cornice/cliff, stuck it and skied away down the mtn. It was the most insane thing I've seen in person on skis.

We went up a second time and got the 2nd couloir (can't remember the real name) untouched as well. The first two runs off of peak were 2 of the most amazing runs of my life and it topped off the trip perfectly.

Hand down my first trip out west... Skied in Minnesota for 10 or 11 years and never had been anywhere east or west, my freshman year of college, went to Bridger Bowl. The first day was nasty... Horrible rain crust, the hardest skiing I'd done, I was scared that the whole week was going to be bad. Then it started snowing. 14" fresh the next morning. Possibly the best day of my life, first trip out west, first time skiing in more than a dusting of snow, damn it was good.

This is a good topic. :)

My best day of skiing, that I can remember, was this New Year's Day at Jackson Hole. My boyfriend and I spent New Year's Eve driving up to JH from Fort Collins after work, and woke up the next morning to find a report of 16". We made first tram and headed right to the Alta Chutes, where there was easily 2 feet of powder, faceshots on every turn. I floated through the blissful whiteness, gasping for breath as the snow flew down my coat, over my head, and into any bodily orifices it could find. We spent most the day in those chutes, and ventured out the gate near the end of the day. It was absolutely beautiful, and it was storming all day, so the next 3 days were just like the first. It was the most amazing snow on the most amazing terrain. We skied from 1st chair to last chair for 4 days, and when the storm let up we skinned up Teton Pass for some blissful tree skiing. After those days I conceded that I had never been so sore in my entire life, and it was great. Man, was that trip amazing... :D *drool*

It's hard to pin point just ONE amazing day. They are all amazing for different reasons. Heli skiing in Jackson was insane- couldn't stop smiling the entire day. First time hiking for turns will always be one of my favroite moments. But nothing tops March 7, 2003. I was in my first year of law school, and after ski bumming the year before, this winter paled in comparison. I had maybe 20 days all season. On March 7th, I had a job interview at noon with the King County Prosecuting Attorney's office for the my dream job. At 5:30 am my friend calls and wakes me up..."DUDE!!!! YOU HAVE TO RESCHEDULE YOUR INTERVIEW." Half asleep and ready to kill I mumble something about "you had better be bleeding from the head" and "why the fuck would I do that". That is when she informs me that overnight it has dumped over 4 feet of snow at Crystal. That was all it took. I packed my shit, got in the car and at 8 a.m. called the office to tell them that "something had come up" and I couldn't make my interview. The secretary asked if I could come in later that day and I was set for a 3 p.m. interview. PERFECT....My friends on ski patrol hooked up a patrol pass and I ripped nipple deep pow for the morning. First tracks down Rabbit Ears...I was stoked all day. Then I hopped back into the car, and scrambled back to the city for my interview. I arrived in the parking garage, half in a suit half in my ski clothes...tried to wipe the shit eating grin off of my face, straightened out the helmet head....During the interview I was too blissed out to care about anything until they asked me what I do for fun. I told them skiing, moutnain biking, blah blah blah....and one guy was like," well you know it snowed over 4 feet at crystal today." I just nodded my head and smiled. AND got the job....Moral of the story- Skiing=happiness

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Originally posted by girlski0912
March 7th ... dumped over 4 feet of snow at Crystal.

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I had driven east the day before that storm to go the the summit in BC. I skiied 49 N that day on exactly 0" new.

We ended out getting ours later in the trip, tho'

Yup, 3/7/03 was a great day at Alpental too.

But an all time greatest? There's too many and I can't sort them into any well defined order.

There was the day we skied around the Monte Rosa, starting in Alagna, heli to the top of the Gorner Glacier between the Lyskamm and the Marguerite and skiing 8000+ vertical feet down into Zermatt. The snow wasn't so good, but the glacier, the crevasses and looking down on the Matterhorn made it so cosmologically surreal. Then up the Kleine Matterhorn, down into Cervinia, then up some t-bar and over and down 5k vertical to Champoluc, then up 4k+ vertical and down another 5k+ vertical to Gressoney, then up another 4k to the Refugio Guigliemina for coffee and a break. Then down 6500 feet back to Alagna where I literally couldn't keep my eyes open for dinner, planting face into a plate of pasta.

Skiing Bridger Bowl back in the mid-70s after a major dump. It must have been at least 30" and super light since it was around 0F. I remember the lift ops shrieking at us to rip it up and so we did, bucking down Bronco and discovering that you could hurl yourself off MAJOR cliffs off the traverse. Of course MAJOR back then was 30' or so....but it was a day acid etched into my cerebellum.

Similarly, Thanksgiving 1975 at Crystal after 40 or 50 inches. They closed the access road that Friday and we skied the most deleriously deepest snow I had ever skied. Truely head deep that Friday where they didn't open chair 2, so we skied Lower Exterminator and Bull run in chest deep to head deep snow, learning how to tie scarves around our mouths so we could breathe. That Saturday, I saw my first major scary slides coming down off Upper Exterminator. I had enlightenment in the Doors that Saturday and they remain one of my favorite runs.

Days at Retallack after 30+ inche dumps, days at Monashee Powder Adventures, lobbing the carcass off cliffs where Nick would only warn you if it was "big" meaning 40+ feet. Months of bumming around SLC, getting the Hobacks after a 42" dump. And days at Silverton where it was face deep and my mind was hoovered out into the happiest stratosphere. I don't miss it much.

You all know my answer.

i was up at crystal 3/8/03. the day after a 4 foot storm wasnt half bad either. there was still LOTS to be had.

Feel free to post/add pics if you have them. Sadly, I have none from my day, but I'm sure some of you have them of yours. Verbal and pictoral stoke, mmmmmm.:D

-Ben

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At that moment I realized that not only did I make the right decision coming to CU

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CUBUCK- Agreed. Had that same experience when I moved to Boulder from Chicago in the 90's. One day my freshman year it dumped so hard in the front range that they had to cancel classes- all roads up to/and I-70 were closed. So pissed we were stuck- but made the call and miraculously Eldora had the road open. Seemed all of CU was there- with 3'+ of fresh. What a great day. Finished it up making turns down Chatauqua Park.
THink that's one reason they say "leaving CU in 4 years is like leaving a party before 10"...

But to name one single experience is tough... most recent qualifier is last September in Las Lenas. After everyone bagged out on the low snow conditions, poof- 4'-5' of ever-light Utah quality snow blanketed all the rocks, chutes, outcroppings. Standing at the top of Eduardo's and surprised with the stability- proceeded to take 1st tracks (with a full on bluebird) waist deep down 3,000 vert. And then Torrecillas... Fukneh:D :) :D

Pic attached is Spud tearing up Eduardo's.

6 runs of pure glory on 3/1/04 on a heliski trip with Coast Range Heli ski ops out of Pemberton, BC.

It was a blue bird day with new snow. I had enough $$ for the four run deal. The guys I was skiing with would have none of it. They pitched in to get me the extra 2 runs. It was worth it and I owe those guys big but what an amazing adventure that was. I am not a religious man but there was something spiritual about being in that environment. of open snow fields, crisp air, blue skies, skiing with 3 friends, sluffing snow, 45+ deg. pitches, just an amazing day that I will never forget.

http://www.biglines.com/photos/blpic19901.jpg

http://www.biglines.com/photos/blpic19908.jpg

Jackson Hole....march 7 (or so) of this year. Ripping trees and hucking mini rocks in 12-16" of new while listening to Barnballs cackling/giggling non-stop across the hillside. epic, painless hucks into super blower followed by many beers and jaegars at the Moose.
Life didn't suck.

or maybe the 4 feet of snow over New Years at Mammoth this past season. Snow so deep that ski patrol was getting stuck on their snowmobiles trying to rescue people stuck in tree wells.

or maybe bulletproof at Killington on New Years exceptionally hungover in 96 with an air temp of -10F but had already bought the ticket so I had to use it?:rolleyes:

I'd have to say there are really three that stand out...

My first trip out west was this year's Tahoe Summit and our first day at K-wood we line up at chair 10 and go up. I realize that people are going down "The Wall." This is nothing to most people here, but I have never skiied a double black on a "real" mountain and it looked pretty steep to me! I can barely even ski double blacks at Killington (I know, I know...bear with me though, I am getting better every time out). This was my first run of the day too. And did I mention I'm a total gaper? So I was kind of like -- :eek: But I just sacked up and did it anyway. Then I even went over and did one of the Sister Chutes! That felt AWESOME! :D

Another great one on this trip was the run I did with Bob Mc down the Saddle Ridge at K-wood again pushing my gaper limits. It's a continuing process of learning to trust my skills which is not always easy to do. So when I do it feels great! And also, having someone I barely know take the time to help me push my limit to experience something beyond what I've tried before is just really neat and reinforces my oft-tested belief that there are just some really good people out there.

The other memory is just of me, my husband and my son skiing last season on a mid-week day when I decided to blow off work and stay another day at Killington. It was just snowing like crazy. Big soft flakes were lazily floating down all day. We were all skiing together and almost nobody was around. That day was really beautiful, just skiing as a family like that and feeling like we had this "private mountain." We were so happy. I always think of that day...the untracked snow everywhere, the stillness and silence instead of what is usually a Disneyland/Carnival type of atmosphere just made it other-worldly for us and very memorable. My son was like "I want this day to go on forever." Ditto, kid!
:cool:

Sprite

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Pic attached is Spud tearing up Eduardo's.

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Oops, meant to say that picture is from Torrecillas. The Eduardos had a bit too much size to post.

bulletproof ice would be epic compared to work right now...

http://www.crnkovich.com/cody/viewVi...t=17&subcat=73



2' of snow overnight at Kirkwood. I think my TR concluded "this place should have it's own soundtrack."

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Originally posted by snowfire
This is a good topic. :)

My best day of skiing, that I can remember, was this New Year's Day at Jackson Hole. My boyfriend and I spent New Year's Eve driving up to JH from Fort Collins after work, and woke up the next morning to find a report of 16". We made first tram and headed right to the Alta Chutes, where there was easily 2 feet of powder, faceshots on every turn. I floated through the blissful whiteness, gasping for breath as the snow flew down my coat, over my head, and into any bodily orifices it could find. We spent most the day in those chutes, and ventured out the gate near the end of the day. It was absolutely beautiful, and it was storming all day, so the next 3 days were just like the first. It was the most amazing snow on the most amazing terrain. We skied from 1st chair to last chair for 4 days, and when the storm let up we skinned up Teton Pass for some blissful tree skiing. After those days I conceded that I had never been so sore in my entire life, and it was great. Man, was that trip amazing... :D *drool*

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Damn you, I was 2 people away from making first tram on that day. That was definately the best week of skiing of my life. First was in bozeman and caught the huge 70" dump at bridger, then drove down to jackson that night and proceeded to ride incredible terrain and powder for the next 10 days. Not a bad trip.

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Originally posted by mr_gyptian
http://www.crnkovich.com/cody/viewVi...t=17&subcat=73



2' of snow overnight at Kirkwood. I think my TR concluded "this place should have it's own soundtrack."

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I have my own soundtrack. And only I can hear it. :p I can tell you're already jealous :p :p ;)