I think it's the steep varied run with some trees and open faces that is blowing in with heavy snowfall that every time you get off the run it is untracked again.
Kind of reminds me of skiing backcountry.
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I think it's the steep varied run with some trees and open faces that is blowing in with heavy snowfall that every time you get off the run it is untracked again.
Kind of reminds me of skiing backcountry.
...or rendezvous and the hobacks any day in February 2014.
If you are turgid at the end of the run.... it might be the perfect run.
I don't know but I've had a few this season.
I think the perfect run should include the perfect turn. Many years ago I'd heard Alf Engen had achieved the perfect turn, so I asked his son Alan about it. With a gleam in his eye he told me that Alf had come close but never fully got it. He called it the clean cut and it involves going below the surface of the snow without disturbing the surface. Somewhat unobtainable maybe. But perfect sets a pretty high bar. I'm also inclined to believe cono frio's answer.
The perfect run has to end with you throwing your skis sideways into a smear, throwing feather-light powder all over your buddy's face at the bottom of said perfect run.
Quote:
Originally Posted by whipski
/thread.
The next one.
Shasta, skiing the west face to car door on nearly untracked creamed corn in warm sun is about my tops. The same in powder would be even better although the traverses would probably require more effort.
I wasn't even on my own gear that day and my turns were far from perfect but it was an absolutely memorable descent. Mood, weather and snow conditions factor heavily into that equation imho.
I happened to be at A-Basin a couple years back on the day they opened the east wall... https://www.tetongravity.com/images/...7_o__forum.jpg
That was pretty close to perfect. Also the first week or so I moved to Utah, meadow skipping in Beartrap Fork after a big dump. Those are the most memorable to me at any rate, in terms of pure soft snow bliss.
Skiing Mt Marcy from the summit with my Dad for my first backcountry trip would be another "perfect run" in a different sense
No tracks in front of you, a foot of fresh that fell overnight on a groomer done at sunset, a little sun, and some good friends to share it with.
Schoolmarm. Like four times.
It's possible, you just need to be in the right place at the right time.Quote:
Originally Posted by BlowerSnowBlower
Happened to me once. Baker in the mid '80's on a Friday morning. The mountain had been closed all week while it stormed almost non-stop. Heavy coastal snow and nothing was sliding. I was on a pair of soft 210 tele skis, waist of 55mm and leather Merrill boots. Me and my buddy struggled to get to a slope steep enough to maintain forward momentum. Our soft skis bent easily into reverse camber which allowed us to step forward on level terrain without climbing skins. Got to a point on Pan Face with direct fall line to the return cat track and let 'er go. Four or five "turns" from top to bottom although you could barely call them turns. And there were 4-6' sections between each "turn" that were still unbroken powder. Mostly skiing blind although I did get a quick visual of the slope below each time I shot out of the snowpack. It was as much body surfing as it was skiing. Perfect run? No, far from it but it did leave us both laughing at the bottom, not believing how deep it was.
I've had far better days skiing thigh/hip deep snow that was accumulating so rapidly the previous runs tracks were but a shallow, 1" deep "U" shape in the unbroken powder surface. And no one there.
But the "perfect run" is any run that makes it impossible to not be brimming with laughter as you descend.
I'm pretty convinced its a 25' long, 8' wide opening in thick east coast trees and pricker bushes, wherein you get your picture snapped by your buddy with just the right amount of tip rocker coming out of the snow, which you then post up in ECRC, and everyone subsequently replies "awesome! way to get at it", "pic of the day!" for three pages.
Extra points if the name or logo of the indy-ski-brand du jour is visible.Quote:
Originally Posted by Timberridge
any run inbounds where you have to manage your sluff.
Esp. when said sluff is from turns made through 39" of fresh that fell overnight.
So many memories... a favorite was a late spring early summer skinning up east Beckwith (west of CB) with 2 bucks in velvet crossing the snow in front of us and then following a finger of snow about a 1/4 mile up a shallow drainage where the tundra on either side was loaded with wildflowers. Bluebird day and the aroma of the wildflowers inundating on descent.
First chair up Storm Peak at the Boat with ~15"+ on the ground. Not crossing a track on the way down? Perfection.
The closest I've come is Mount Green in Rogers Pass. It's 5,000 vertical feet of wide open skiing from the summit to the valley below.
This is it looking down from the top. You can see the highway at the edge of the shadow at the left of the picture:
https://fbcdn-sphotos-d-a.akamaihd.n...8d1a5c867c500b
Bloody Couloir, Mid april ,two days after a good dump. able to drive up past the scree field, sunshine, and no wind. 2600 feet of bliss
ahhhhh remembering it like it was yesterday
http://splitboard.com/talk/topic/bloody-42407/
steep techy couloir with a funky crux that you can open it up after onto a big apron of hero pow
When I inhaled a perfect meter falling over 3 days of overheard blower at Verbier. I couldn't see for a couple hundred feet, but luckily the breathing came back sooner than that.
The goat, stowe
A few
-deep untracked at Kirkwood where it feels like slow motion free fall; for run after run
-darwin couloir with two feet of fresh in the spring with three good friends
-dog lake area under a full moon with 2-3' of fresh where the face shots make your eyelashes freeze shut, but it doesn't matter.
Top to bottom powder on a 3500'+ first descent with open bowl, to 1500' couloir (that you didn't really know if it connected).
That was perfect.
Cinnamon Bun's the name.
The last one;
In my case, lacing nice round turns through the rocks/brush/bare spots on 3-6" of steep warm icepack with 93cm Head Liners,
Then 8ing all those turns with a 150cm Arbor Mystic w/out getting a scratch on either.
left me laughing with a euphoric feeling of accomplishment.
play the hand your dealt;)
The Perfect Run? Here is how I imagine it to be….
I wake to blue bird skies after a snowy, cold, windless night. Just over a Mandingo of freshly fallen Montana Cold Smoke covers the Lone Peak. I brew a pot of strong black coffee and throw a couple of strips of fatty, thick cut, bacon into a black iron skillet. Cause, like any true American, I like bacon.
After I have breakfasted I don my gear, slip into my ski boots, grab my Bibby's and head to the lift. I hop Swift, slide down to the Triple, take it up and slide down to the Can. They are just getting ready to open the Peak so a bit of a line has formed.
While waiting in line, I look up ahead and can't help but notice an athletic looking female skier wearing a blue shell and yellow pants standing in line alone. And by that, I mean, by herself. Her blond hair flows like freshly machined vermicelli out the bottom of her crocheted beanie. What really captures my eye though is the black unicorn emblems which adorn the wide pink boards she is holding.
"Holy shit." I say to myself as I realize that I must think of some clever come on for my impending, shameless, pro call out. My mind races as I duck walk past a few dirtbags until I am standing beside her.
"Uhh, aren't you that pro skier chick?" I ask clumsily. She smiles. "Lindsey, right?" I go on.
"Yea, that's right." she replies with the confidence of a seasoned professional.
"Sucks, what happened at Beaver." I say in a sympathetic tone. "Where's Tiger?"
She looks at me a bit perplexed, then gathers herself and says "Uh, I think you may have mistaken me for someone else. Lindsey Vonn perhaps?"
"Right, sorry." I say and I slide switch back to my spot in line.
The tram opens and we pile in. As we near the top I take in the view. Beautiful. Outside too. I peer out the window and note that the Big has filled in quite nicely. Too bad they're not going to get it open for another couple hours.
The tram door opens and we shuffle out. Past the Avy Danger sign over to the cables on the left. I drop my Bibby's on the snow and click in. The PSC from the tram line steps next to me.
"Did you really think I was Lindsey Vonn?" she asks with just a touch of flirtatious disdain.
"You just look really familiar." I reply.
"Well, I am a pro skier." she says "and my name is Lynsey, with a Y, no D. Lynsey Dyer."
"Nice to meet you Lynsey with a Y no D." I reply "My friends call me Coño, which is Spanish for...uhh...well, that's what they call me anyway."
"Can you ski? Coño?" she asks with a coy smile.
"Lead the way Princess." I reply.
She skates out the traverse to the sled turns and heads back. She stops at the top of Liberty Bowl.
"So big guy you should probably drop in here. I'm heading over to Marx. Maybe I'll wait for you on the cat track." she says.
"If I drop in Liberty I'll have to take Shedhorn back up. That's one helluva slow lift." I say "Maybe I'll just try a keep up."
She smiles, pulls down her goggles, and continues to traverse to the top of Marx. At the top of the run she stops and turns towards me. I drop in without a word, floating down the steep face, and leaving cold, cumulus, clouds in my wake with each turn. The rapturous interplay between the Earth’s gravitational pull and the weightlessness of the dry Montana powder has me feeling like I am flying.
Impressed with myself, I stop upon reaching the duckwalk and look up the slope. Lynsey is killing it. She approaches me without slowing, dumps a bit of speed by spraying me as she skis by, heading right, not left as expected? I give chase.
She drops into the trees skiers left of the Shedhorn double. The snow is soft and deep. She slashes a few more turns and pulls up next to a large evergreen. I come in hot and nearly take her out. She has her goggles off and a huge smile on her face. I raise my Anon's onto my helmet and smile.
She leans in, grabs the back of my head, and kisses me hard.
"That was F#@%ing awesome." she says.
"So was THAT." I reply.
"You ski pretty good for a middle aged bald dude." she offers.
"Thanks." I say.
She grabs the collar of my shell, pulls my face to hers, and kisses me again. Then she pushes me back, pulls back on her goggles, and takes off through the trees. I give chase but the trees get thicker and thicker and it gets darker and darker.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Coño."
"Coño! Wake up. If you don't get up now we are going to miss our flight to Bozeman."
"Yes, dear. Just five more minutes. I want to finish this dream."
^that was epic just to read
Awesome.
An excellent story, especially for a middle aged bald guy!
skiing in the rain with your kids
That story was just missing one thing. The ever important morning poop prior to heading out. That's the key to a perfect run.
Sweet blog Cono!
glad i read that.
they call me cono, lol
...freshly machined vermicelli, made me hunger
...wide pink boards, made me lust
I just bought a one-way to Bozeman.
Bacon, not spam amigo.
The perfect run for me will always be Cosmique to the Paraface in good condition with pow all the way down to the Mount Blanc tunnel. A virtually impossible feat; usually when there is powder down to the valley its way too scary to go up the Midi, let alone rappel the 60 meters into the cosmique to see if its stable enough to go for. It happened last march for me twice. Faceshots all the way down the 1000 meters of 45 degree couloir. The traverse to the paraface sucked as it always does but nothing this incredible goes without some effort. Then beautiful fast gs turns all the way down the next 1000 meters of paraface leaving lingering plumes of snow shimmering in the atmosphere. Followed by a pow covered exit down the last 600 meters of the tight cornered 'walking trail'. After runs like these its hard not to continue chasing the dragon that is big mountain freeriding on the mont blanc massif.
Cool thread.
Mine is from the El Alambique bar at El Colorado down to Farellones with a solid buzz at sunset on fresh 'roy.
Perfect Run? Never had one, prolly doesn't exist
Have had more FKNawesome runs than I can remember.
Every single run you make is the perfect run. Local hill or big mountain BC. -45 with sideways wind or 40 and sunny. 24" fresh or ice crud and corn.
Learning to enjoy the moment, for what it is, is what it's about. Enjoy every run. You never know if it's your last. And always know that there is somebody, somewhere, who can no longer take that run. It would be epic to them, why shouldn't it be to you?