Skiing was a glorious adventure

Monday I had the opportunity to go skiing at Brighton. I was excited because I'd been watching the weather forecast and it looked like I might get some fresh powder. None of the friends I had asked, including my brother Mike, could go, so I was going solo--not quite as fun, but still, I've gone skiing alone before and still had a great time, so I was rarin' to go.
I had gotten off to a late start because as I got five minutes away from home, I realized that I had left my ski ticket voucher at home and had to go back to retrieve it. Once home, my wife, Ann was having trouble with the sound on the computer, so I stayed for a little longer to make sure she got it back on, and then I left.
The lifts were already open when I got there and by the time I got dressed and ready to go, they'd been running for about half an hour. The snow was coming down fast and furious, and as I went up the Majestic lift, the snow was blowing right in my face. I always take an easy run or two to get myself warmed up before doing something more strenuous and this was no exception. By the time I did my second tour on that lift though, I wanted no more of it. It was running so slow and I could see the other nearby lift, called the Crest Express, running a lot faster. I took that lift the next time and when I got off on top, my glasses needed to be cleaned off. I'd been okay so far without goggles in my brief three year return to skiing, but with the snow coming down and the wind blowing so hard, I definitely saw the need for some good "over the glasses" goggles. Anyway, I stopped when I got off the lift to clean my glasses. I had brought a microfiber cloth with me and as I wiped them off, the left lens came out of the glasses. Great I thought, just what I needed to happen. However, I was able to pop it back in and I headed down.

You can see that left lens is a little foggy.

I pretty much stuck with that lift the rest of the day as the runs were long and fun and had a lot of variation. And there was an awesome 4-5 inches of  powder everywhere! I was impressed with Brighton's runs. I had not been there in thirty-plus years, the last time being when I went night skiing with Mike when he was fourteen. I liked it better than Solitude, where I have been doing most of my skiing, because I've been able to ski cheaper at Solitude. The particular time when I went to purchase my ticket from liftopia, Brighton just happened to have the cheapest ticket for this particular day. One advantage Solitude has over Brighton, other than price is a lot more restrooms scattered around the slopes.
I wanted to get ten runs in before I stopped for lunch, and though it was still snowing, it slowed down a little as I headed to lunch. By the time I got done with lunch though, it was snowing harder than it had all day and I was pumped to get back up there.

The sun poked out from time to time

Down in the parking lot, it wasn't snowing as hard as up on top.

I managed seven more fantastic runs after lunch and by then my legs were getting really tired. I stopped after seventeen. When I got home and went to clean off my glasses, the lens fell out again and I couldn't get it back in--I ended up digging through my bedroom dresser to find my spare glasses, and then later, when I had to go to Walmart for some things, I stopped by their optical department and they put the lens back in for me. I consider myself lucky that I was able to get that lens to stay in for as long as I did. I had my old pair of glasses in the 4Runner, but ended up not having to go back and get them.
I think that was my last time skiing for the year. I had planned on taking my granddaughter for a lesson in March, but with as little snow as we have, and for some other reasons, I think I'm going to have to take both my oldest granddaughters next year together. That might be better anyway. They have great deals on lessons in January.

Further down the canyon, there just isn't much snow at all. Looks like May up there.

I had a glorious adventure on the slopes. Now it's time to start planning some hikes. I can't wait.

Hiking: White Pine

White Baldy with the White Pine dam visible in the foreground

My hike Saturday was amazing. It's always great just being in the mountains. I really wanted to go with someone this time and when my brother Mike called me the night before and told me he had the stomach flu, I almost decided not to go. We had planned on hiking Deseret Peak, and I definitely wasn't wanting to do that one again by myself after doing it last year. I had given Mike the choice and that's what he chose, but now that he wasn't going, I wanted to do something a little shorter and a little closer. I chose White Pine because a lot of people have been posting pics of that hike on some of the hiking pages and I hadn't been there since I was about fourteen. Red Pine and White Pine are in adjacent canyons and my dad had taken us kids and some of our friends up to Red Pine, and then we climbed the ridge to the east and went down White Pine. They both begin at the same trailhead.

So I thought it was about time I went back there. Spotty foul weather was predicted, so I went prepared for the worst. The trailhead is up Little Cottonwood Canyon, just a bit past the Tanner Flat camping area. The turnoff comes up right after a blind corner and I missed it like I have several times. I saw it though and went up the road to where I could make a U-turn and headed back. The sign at the trailhead says that White Pine is four miles, but I have seen various trip reports saying that the mileage is wrong and that it's a bit more than that--more like about nine miles round trip. I started  hiking at 7:36 and it was lightly sprinkling. I kept my camera in my pack in a zip lock bag. I took a picture that I posted on Facebook with my phone. After a while the rain stopped so I took out the camera and took some shots, but then the rain started again so I tucked it inside my rain jacket which I was wearing. I probably looked like a guy with a tumor on my chest, but I didn't want to ruin my camera, nor did I yet want to put it in my pack.

Familiar stream at the location where the trail splits, one going
to Red Pine, one going to White pine.

It was kind of dark and drizzly on the early part of the trail.

View into the northern side of Little Cottonwood Canyon

When I got to about 9400 feet, the drizzling rain turned into snow, and at 9800 feet it was coming down hard. By the time I got to 9900, it was practically a white out.

Looking down. Up ahead of me, the snow was coming down so
fiercely that I had to put my camera away.

I looked at my GPS and it showed that the dam was just a quarter mile to the right, but the trail I was on was going left, away from the dam, and it looked like it went a long ways that direction. In the blinding snow I couldn't see any place where it switched back and headed toward the lake, so I began thinking I had missed a turn off and I was on the wrong trail. I didn't want to end up at Snowbird! There had been a guy who had basically played leap frog with me on the upper portion of the trail and he was now ahead of me, but I couldn't see him anywhere because the snow was so thick, and what was worse, I couldn't see his footprints in the fresh snow on the trail. So I decided that he had taken the right trail---the one I must have missed--and that further confirmed to me that I needed to go back and find the fork.

So that's what I did. But there was no fork. I got down a ways and the snow had lightened up a bit and I could see the guy I was looking for walking across the dam. At that point, I was too tired to go back up and get to the lake. On my way back down I was just taking my time. My hands had gotten cold--my right one a bit numb--so I put on my gloves (someone on one of the forums had wished they had gloves, so I had thrown them in my pack, just in case). I had a very hard time getting them on my cold, wet hands though. Kind of like taking wet clothes off--assistance would be my preferred choice.

Even as winter approaches, the fall offers great spots of beauty.

Since the snow finally stopped as I dropped in elevation and the rain did too, it got warmer, and I took the gloves back off. I had my camera out and was taking some pictures of the peaks when the guy from the dam passed me going down. He told me that the lake wasn't really that pretty and that I didn't miss much and that Red Pine was far more picturesque. He also told me that I could have cut across, and saved that long switchback, but at the time with all the snow, I wasn't sure where the dam was. Not until I was a bit lower and looked up and saw him up there and I was too tired to go back up, let alone climb up the chutes I'd have to climb if I cut across without taking the trail.

These flowers were still hanging on at over 8700 feet.

So I hiked about 7-8 miles, didn't quite make it to the lake, but felt the thin line of how close you can get to danger if you aren't prepared for the conditions. Thankfully I was. I had watched earlier as a couple went up the trail before me, probably to Red Pine because I never saw them coming down, and the guy was dressed in shorts and they both had light jackets.

Anyway, it was a great adventure and I learned some things and had a great time. What more could I ask (well, other than having someone else along)?

Happy Trails!

Fabulous snow yesterday for skiing!

I had the ticket voucher for several weeks as it's a better deal the further out they are purchased at Liftopia. Snowbird had a lot of pleasant memories for me from my youth as that was the place I actually learned how to ski. My first time skiing had been to Alta, and I had known nothing and had basically pointed my skis down the hill and gone. My second time skiing was with a group of friends from work, and one older girl had taken some of us newbies under her wing and had taught us the basics of snow plowing, stem christies, and how to fall without getting hurt (in other words, she taught us that if you get out of control, fall on purpose). And there was that other time I went to Snowbird when I was younger when the wind chill at the top where the Tram let us off was 50 below. Think about that for a minute.
It was with those thoughts in mind that I anticipated this return to Snowbird after about 40 years. This past week got to be real exciting as the snow storms kept piling up. Wednesday night, another storm rolled in dumping over a foot at the resort and several inches in the valley. Because of avalanche control, the canyon wasn't going to open until 8:00 Thursday morning, so, I thought I'd leave home at 8:00 to avoid the line up of cars. Boy, was that ever a mistake!
The snow storm that had happened the night before had left its effects on commuters and the trip across the valley that normally takes twenty minutes, took an hour and a half. Part way there, while stuck in a slow moving line of cars, I mentioned on Facebook that at this rate, I'd make it to the resort at 11:00. At the time, I didn't realize how prophetic I was.
Still, I was happy, but really anticipating getting up on the slopes.
Snowbird has three places of entry and I had no idea where to go, but both the first and second one had "tickets" on the signs (I needed to exchange my voucher for a ticket). I chose entry two, found a parking place and began getting dressed. I basically had to add layers, and put on my ski boots. When it came time to putting on the boots, I had a hard time with the right one, and the left one was nearly impossible. I began to wonder if my feet had grown a size or two. I had worn some thinner socks, but they weren't really all that slinky, and I just couldn't get that left one to go in. After about five minutes of working on it, I was beginning to think I would have to find the ski shop and rent some equipment. I remembered that I had another pair of socks in my 4runner. They were thicker, but slicker. I put one of them on my left foot and was finally able to get the boot on, though not without a lot of strain. I added "ski socks" to my list of things to buy in the near future, and when I got home, read a bunch of tips on how to get your stubborn boots on.
With my boots finally on, I began hiking up the hill to the ticket office the sign had directed me to. There was a shuttle, but it never came by when I was hiking and it was probably a quarter mile hike to the ticket office from there. Once there, I had the opportunity to look at the map of the resort and decide where I was going to start. I decided to spend my time on the easier runs at first, until I got adjusted to the conditions. Frankly, during all of my recent times skiing, I hadn't ever skied on this much new snow and I remembered how grooves are easily cut in the snow by other skiers and boarders and how I tend to catch an edge of my own skis on these grooves from time to time, and go toppling down the slope.
I exchanged my voucher for a ticket and asked how to get to the lift I wanted to ride up. The easy area was back where I had parked. I had to hike over a bridge and up a hill before putting on my skis and going down. Wow that new snow was affecting me more than I realized! I was all wobbly, just like a newbie. I got to the lift and rode it up (I was on the lift at 11) and my first run was a crazy run of wobbliness.
Halfway down my second run, I figured out that I had failed to buckle my boots. Just try skiing with boots that aren't secured and you'll see how tough it is. The thing is, this is the second  time I have done that. It's easy to do if I'm not thinking because I don't like to walk very far with them tightened, so I loosen them (or in this case, since I was walking a long distance to the ticket office, never did them up in the first place) and then forget to tighten them.
It was cold, and the goggles I had acquired from a yard sale in the summer got ice on them too easily, so I just wore them on my forehead for the rest of the day.

The weather let up for a while and the peaks looked amazing

I had a few really nice runs after that. I had decided that I was going to stick to the easy runs for about ten runs, then move on to the intermediates, but on about my fifth run, I got whacked pretty good in the back of my calf with the chair lift as I was getting on. My very next run, the same thing happened only worse. My leg was hurting like I had a bad charley horse in it. After the 7th run I took a short break to eat the sandwich I had brought for lunch, I had no water with me and it was quite a time consuming hike back to my vehicle for the water, so I went without.
After lunch I put my skis back on and promptly fell. Other people were standing around there, and thankfully pretended not to notice. It was the only spill I took all day.
The skiing was great for the next few runs, though my leg still hurt, and the sun even came out for a few minutes. I made it a point to ask the lift operator where I should stand, because I wasn't sure if I was standing in the right place after getting hit by the lift twice. I guess I had gotten myself a little too far forward. I didn't get hit again for the rest of the day.

It snowed heavily periodically, lightly periodically, and then the fog rolled in. I could look down and see my skis easily, so I knew my glasses weren't fogged up, but seeing down the slope was nearly impossible. There were still other skiers zooming around me, and I had no idea how they could go that fast in the fog. I guess it's the same reasoning of people driving to fast for conditions in fog. I had completed 13 runs, my thighs were burning, and my calf hurt. I wanted to reach my goal of at least twenty, but I had no idea if the fog was going to lift, and I wasn't having fun at that point skiing where I couldn't see.
In the half hour it took me to get to my vehicle and get my stuff off, the fog lifted. I was worried that would be what would happen, but I wasn't going to try and put the boots back on again. I had had a lot of fun, despite all the interesting things that happened. I had learned a little about where things are at Snowbird, in case I get the chance to go there again, and I had been up in my beloved mountains in the fresh snow, feeling gravity pulling at me in a far different way than I had felt in the night before when I had been rock climbing. And that, is what adventure is all about. I can't wait for the next one.

Wasatch colors in full swing, but you'd better get up there soon!

It was in the plans for Ann and I to take a drive today up in the mountains to see the fall colors. Somehow, mother nature didn't quite cooperate and we got a snow storm in the tops of our beloved peaks. Of course, some of the leaves died and fell off early because of the snow, but the snow on the tops of the mountains added some extra highlights to our drive.

This was the first view we had that we thought was good enough to
take pics of. Timp with just a splash of yellow in front.

The images got nicer as we drove on.

We drove up American Fork Canyon, high up on the Alpine Loop Road, then abandoned that road and headed down past Cascade Springs to eat lunch in Heber. All in all, it was a great adventure and it couldn't have been a nicer day.

I couldn't resist wandering amongst the quakies to get this shot.

The reds are still there, but 

This is why we now have one of these--a Big Tooth Maple--in our yard.

A beautiful sunset tonight!

I kept hoping all day for the sky to open up into blue and the sun to bathe the peaks in light. After all, we'd had a storm yesterday in the wee hours of the night and I thought that the inversion might lift for a moment. Finally, in the late afternoon, the sun won a brief battle and the Wasatch Mountains lit up. I only had my camera on my phone to take a couple of pics, and I was trying to get back to the office in my mail truck. Still, I found a good vantage point and snapped this shot.

After work, I needed to pick up a few things at the grocery store and came out just in time to see the sun going out in a blaze of glory.

So, after feeling a little disappointed that the light hadn't been what I'd wanted all day. in the end, it didn't disappoint. My phone camera leaves a lot to be desired, but I did the best I could with what I had at the time.

Return to the Titanic day

I pretty much thought that Tuesday was the day of all days as far as weird things happening. Then Wednesday happened. I had spent all night off and on in great pain, which I'm fairly certain was kidney stones. I woke up, unable to go to work, so I called in sick. Most of the stones had passed by that time, thankfully, and it was mostly a matter of resting up. I'm also very grateful that I didn't end up needing to go to the doctor or ER.

In the afternoon, I was feeling good enough to replace the motor on our dishwasher that had gone out a couple of weeks ago. So I did that. It went well.

It was Miriam's birthday and since Ann was feeling poor, it was up to me to get her present over to her. I wasn't feeling tops either, but in the snow storm, it was me or nothing. I got in the 4runner and headed over. As I rounded a corner onto 41st south, I noticed something not quite right with the 4runner. The radio was flickering on and off. In just a couple more minutes, the tachometer had ceased working. I turned on the wipers because the snow had picked up and the extremely slow sweep of the wiper blades told me something serious was wrong. I decided that I needed to turn around and head home.

I got headed back and then the vehicle stopped running completely. I had forgotten my phone, so I walked back to the nearest grocery store--Smith's which was about five blocks away, and called my family to come and rescue me. Then I called AAA to come and tow the 4runner to my mechanic.

What a last couple of days! But we at least got hit by a lot of snow. Last I heard, Snowbird got 43 inches, so that's really good.

Snow at last

April snow showers bring May flowers? The biggest storm since the winter of 2013-2014 hit the Salt Lake Valley and deposited 9" in our city of West Valley. Too bad I was sick today, and stayed home from work and won't be able to do the same tomorrow for a last gasp ski day. I would dearly love to go.
The good thing is, by the end of the day, I was nearly back to normal. The kidney stones or whatever it was that was causing great pain, had largely subsided, praise the Lord. I went out and took a few pictures of the snow.

Yesterday, as part of the "Titanic Day" the heavy winds blew over our fence.

The lilac bush was collapsed by the weight of the snow.

I think it's going to be a few days before I can work on the raised beds again. And clean up the yard.

Anna is our little snow lover and has been waiting all season for enough snow to actually play in.

It has been snowing off and on all day and we couldn't be more grateful for it. The Lord has answered our prayers. Last I heard, Snowbird had received 22 inches and it was still snowing.

Great day skiing at Alta

I went skiing with my brother, Mike at Alta today. It was awesome! We had a few inches of fresh snow, and the sun was shining, and I only dumped it once.  Here's the pic he took:

My ski report

For the past few months, I've been planning to take up skiing again. At 55, there are a lot of things you begin thinking “it's now or never” about. So, I figured out a day I would go, reserved the skis, bought the lift ticket, and ended up at Alta, Utah.


But let's back up a bit. It had been a long time since I'd skied. I wasn't sure what to wear, what to take, how anything worked any more. The only thing I knew was where the resorts were and that I would need to take a lift to the top of the runs, and point the skis in a generally downward direction. A friend had recommended taking a lesson. Instead, I watched “how to turn” and “how to parallel ski” videos on youtube. I packed everything I would need the night before.


So yesterday, I got up in plenty of time to make it to the ski rental shop and then to the resort by the time it opened. I got on the freeway and was making good time and then all of a sudden, about a mile from my exit, there was a huge lineup of cars moving ever so slowly. We inched our way forward, finally making the exit about twenty minutes later. Then it was on to the ski rental place. I knew the general address of where it was, but didn't know exactly where. I went into Smith's grocery store and asked for directions. The guy I asked knew where it used to be and where it may still have been. “I don't have any reason to look for it,” he said, “but it used to be right up there by Zion's Bank”. I thanked him and found out it was right where he'd said it was.


I drove up to Alta with no further complications. It was easy finding the place to start, because that's where everyone was parking. I got the boots on and began the trek to the area where you first put on your skis. Again, no incidents putting on the skis. The guy at the ski shop had taken the time to show me how the bindings worked, and I got the skis on. At this point there's a small slope that leads down to the first lift. Nervously, I snowplowed my way down this slope, nearly falling. It was going to take a while to get my ski legs back, I could tell.


I managed to get on the lift, sitting next to a guy, maybe close to my same age. “I'm a snow boarder,” he said. “I just started skiing this year,...well, it's been fifteen years since I skiid until this year.”
“It's been 29 years for me,” I said.
“Wow,” he said. “I bet the skis you used 29 years ago didn't look like the ones you have now.”
“No,” I said, thinking about the old pointy ended skis that I had been accustomed to, “they didn't”.


I picked the easiest of the easy runs for my first run. I took it slowly, trying to feel my way back into it. The weather was perfect. The sky bright blue, the sun shining. Apparently though, this was not conducive to good skiing, because with the warmer temperatures, the lack of recent snow, and the melting and then refreezing of what snow there was, the groomed trails had turned into very icy and treacherous places to be for someone who hadn't done it for a long time. I felt the snow beneath me, knowing that if I fell, it was going to hurt. That first run, I made it to the bottom without falling.


On run number two, I had a small fall that I was able to recover from fairly quickly. Then on run number three, I went up the same lift, skied down to another lift and went up further. This was a different kind of lift with a metal post in between two seats, called Cecret Lift. There were warnings about getting ready to stand up as I neared the end of the lift. I was by myself and as I got off the lift, I fell. There were a pair of skis nearby where I fell, and as I scrambled to get up the lift operator came out and said, “watch out for those skis—they're expensive skis,” and apparently they were his. I made sure no harm was done to them and headed down.


On one of my subsequent rides up to the top I was with an Alta employee. “Couldn't ask for better weather,” I said to him.
“Yeah,” he said. “If you can't have snow, you might as well have sun.” He didn't seem too happy about it though and was silent the rest of the way to the top.


I rode up another time with a woman from Chicago. She mentioned the inversion in the Salt Lake Valley. “I've never seen it this bad,” she said. I wanted to say, “you should try living here all winter” or something like that. I've seen it this bad plenty of times. Not that I like it one bit. I didn't say any of that to her, and we continued our pleasant conversation all the way to the top.


One time, I got off the lift and a woman asked me if I'd take her picture. “Sure,” I said. “If you'll take mine.” I took hers then handed her my camera. “I don't see anything on the screen,” she said. I looked at it. The battery was in need of recharging. What can I say? It was my wife's camera, so I didn't think to check the battery before I grabbed it that morning. So much for any photos of my first time back.


I kept to the easy runs thinking that in the afternoon, I'd give one of the intermediate runs a shot. That was not to be. Just a few minutes before noon, on my ninth run, I started down the steepest portion of the easy run I was on, lost control on the icy surface and fell hard, wrenching my back. I knew something was wrong as I struggled to get my ski and hat that were further up the slope. Some kind people helped me gather my stuff and get my ski back on and I continued down, but my back hurt like crazy—not in the spine, thank goodness—but in the muscles of the middle-right side.


I tried a couple more runs after that, but I was skiing defensively, trying not to hurt my back further, not having much fun. I fell on my last run again, not hard, but losing a ski. I was able to get it on all by my little old lonesome this time. I headed to the lodge, took off my skis, went inside to see how much food was, decided it was too exhorbitant, then decided to sit down and wait a while to see if my back would feel good enough to strap the skis back on. I could tell after five minutes or so that it wasn't going to improve, so I packed up and headed home.


Later that evening, I went to Instacare, just to make sure I hadn't cracked a rib. The doc had some xrays taken, and they came up negative. She classified it as a muscle strain, gave me a list of things to do and not do, prescribed some drugs, gave me a referral to a back doctor, and sent me on my way. She told me not to work and wrote me a “doctor's excuse” for Friday and Saturday. So I have nothing to do except write in this blog and watch tv or read. I hate that. I'm sure I'll break the rules. I always do.