With the ski racing season in the rearview mirror, I pointed my car south to Salt Lake City to meet up with a few local friends to explore their local playground in the Wasatch mountains just outside the city. On our first day we set out for Mount Superior, one of the 50 classic ski lines of North America. With a big group in tow we set off early from Alta in Little Cottonwood Canyon. I love in this part of the Wasatch you have straight access to the alpine and can avoid the long slog through the trees. We had ourselves a mostly cloudy and low fog day with some intermittent snow which hid the panoramic views for a majority of the day.
Occasional breaks in the clouds provided a great view of the lower half of our upcoming line.
Ola setting the pace early in the day.
Boot packing up the ridge to the summit
After an hour or two of steep skinning up Superior’s lower slopes we approached the ridge and subsequently the boot-packing section. Boot-packing can be a demoralizing pursuit, constantly digging yourself out of waist deep snow every time you punch through the track. Eventually we began to gain the ridge and proceeded to traverse the narrow ridge before the final push to the 3,500 metre summit. It turned out to be much further than I had anticipated as I hung at the back of the group and finally slammed my bag down when I reached the top where the others were waiting. Skis on, and we were off, albeit poor visibility we were rewarded with knee deep powder and easy turns as we exited the initial gully of the summit. Everyone was grinning ear to ear and hooting and hollering, that’s what we do it for! The main line was all done, so we set off for some party laps on nearby bowls and made the most of the remaining day. One for the books!
Evan gaining the ridge on a party lap after completing Superior.
Sam finding some deep powder on the last run of the day back down to the car.
Day two we kept it pretty mellow and there wasn’t much to write home about, fast forward to day three; the real meat and potatoes of the week. Sam, Leah, and myself headed out under the light of the headlamps with the NW couloir of the Piefferhorn in mind, a wasatch classic. During the first hour of the trip I was feeling particularly worse for wear which I chose to blame on receiving the COVID vaccine the day before. I knew once the sun came up and we reached the alpine I would feel better and so I did. After skinning through our approach we reached the headwall below the mountain for a short boot pack before reaching the real ridge boot pack.
Sam and Leah strapping up the skis below the ridge of the Piefferhorn.
The long boot pack up the ridge into the clouds, wind, and snow was exhausting but we remained relatively on schedule. We knew a storm would be coming in at 3 or 4PM and we managed to summit at 11 AM with that in mind, although it seemed the storm had come in much earlier than expected with winds and snow picking up rapidly. We transitioned our skis and donned or helmets and harnesses and peered down into the couloir. The first few turns were nothing to marvel at, sliding down a wind blown chute filled with rocks. After making it through the 8 foot wide choke the couloir opened up allowing for a few nice turns in soft snow entering us into the no-fall zone above the 35 foot rappel.
Sam and Leah looking down into the couloir before strapping on our skis.
Sam lowering himself down as Leah and I look on.
We reached the rappel with a sigh of relief just as the snow really started to come down and the wind began to change directions from what it had been blowing all week. Sam sets up the rappel and lets himself down….. it’s short, dammit! We had a fear our rope maybe short for the rappel given the low snow year. We switch the rope from a self rappel to a single length so sam can lower Leah and I from the bottom allowing for a few extra meters of rope. At this point the snow is coming down HARD and the couloir above us is beginning to windload with the new snow and sluff is starting to come down in bigger amounts than what would be considered fun. Sam lets down Leah and I and we down climb the remaining 10 feet with our ice axes to exit the rock band.
Bottom of the rappel getting slammed with continuous sluff.
We strap our skis back on with urgency, no one is thinking about anything except getting the hell out of there. We are cold from the constant snow coming down on our heads and the persisting high winds. We get in some nice turns through the bottom half of the couloir before it drops us out into the apron which only has about 30 feet of visibility without the assistance of the rocks for depth perception. In the apron we were greeted with knee to waist deep snow, although hard to enjoy given the visibility. Once we gain the trees and better visibility we take a sigh of relief and take a moment to marvel at our achievement before taking in some celebratory powder tuns on the way back to the car.
Skiing out the bottom half of the couloir.
Our line! Credit: Ben White