I looked at the Alta.com website to see that 5 inches had fallen up at Alta so I prepped my rig for an assault early the next morning. Thursday I woke up and headed out by 7:30 am to make my way up LCC for a jaunt up to Ballroom or the Shoulder. When I arrived the parking lot had squat for snow and only 6 or so cars were in the parking lot indicating that I must have read some mis-info on the alta website because there was no new snow. Well, almost no new snow. The snow-making machines were hard at work plowing out at least 1 inch per two hours in 35′ diameter around each machine.

What I could almost not believe is that the south faces of LCC and the surrounding area around Alta had much less or no snow at all compared to that blissful day I reported earlier on the 8th of October. What a difference and “where is my snow?,” I thought.

Skinning up Corkscrew the snow was absolutely firm and once I stepped onto 30 degree slopes it was very difficult to not slide out because my skins wouldn’t stick. I made my way up and past the Watson and then to the ballroom with ease once I passed the man made madness below. The air was cold and the sun lazily hid its face not wanting to feel the cold of this morning.

Making Ballroom was a breeze as a half hour passed. I was able to see a few parties heading up the ridge to baldy’s coveted Main chute but I wasn’t into skiing bumps or something that is over skied as it is. I set my mind to tackling a line near the upper triangle of Baldy, the north easterly section that isn’t skied that much during the regular season when they open the gates to hike above the Ballroom traverse. I skinned up as high as my rig would take me before I started punching through the sugary snow on the lower apron.

Placing my rig on my pack and prepping for a boot pack up to the destination I eagerly made ladder like steps hoping this would work me out like lunges or other quad building activities. The snow was sugary and deep without the ability to compact under my boots. I wrestled with the snow and made my way onto rocks and/or other precipes as to form stairs as a perch. On I slogged and until I could travel no more without removing my ski’s from my pack in order to use them as mtn. axes or make shift snow shoes on my hands. I would throw the skis in front of me (while they were attached at the brake) and kind of shimmy myself up and over them as to keep me levitating on the snow and then search through the sugar for a place for my feet. This I did for a good while until…I reached the top of the snow line and I could scurry along the rock face above me. I just needed to work my way to the right about 50 yards and higher about the same distance.

Reaching the end of the line without any hope of ascending further I made a short stop to put on my jacket, beanie, and goggles. I sat and pondered the trip while feeling euphoric for being in such a place on a Wednesday while others were still hoping for the resorts to open for chair assisted lazy skiing. I was on day five and the experiences I had achieved thus far were great to say the least.

After a few chocolate, chocolate chip cookies and some water I geared up and made ready for a descent. The snow at this level was (as best as I can describe) 2-3 inches of chalk on top of 2-3 feet of styrofoam. The angle of the slope roughly 40 degrees and there were plenty of turns below me to make a perma grin for the rest of the day so I made a side slipping motion to gauge the extent of the carvy-ness of the snow. And then it was turn after turn and I relished as my legs burned. Right then left and then right again to make my way into a choke with a rocky exit.

Smiling I looked over the edge and took a self inventory as to whether or not leaping over a 5 foot rocky section would be worth doing at this point in the season. I couldn’t decide so I felt that doubt made the decision for me. I looked for place to side step down the rock but it seemed like a worse choice. So, I unclamped my rig from my boots and pretended that a nice butt-slide wouldn’t be that bad especially since I was wearing the used pair of Burton pants I picked up at a yard sale for 5-BUCKS. Then looking down at those jagged rocks and breakable snow I came to my senses and put my skis back on my feet and made for the rocky edge. Funny that this 5 foot air could cause me to falter so and was potentially a fateful obstacle that could have changed my heaven into hell at any moment.

Airing over the rock I entered into the ballroom edgy goodness and then schralped my way towards the groomers for a zippy run to the car. The groomers though were BULLETPROOF with lots of frozen chunkies all over them making for a chattery ride. My teeth vibrated almost the whole way down until I hit the mid-way station near the Collins lift where the snow was so sparse I took my skis off to walk to the next section. Here I made more turns toward Corkscrew where I had the experience of skiing some fresh man made snow that was dreamy to turn on and the consistency of New England clam chowder. I almost stopped and hiked back up for those 3-5 turns.

Reaching the car I could only smile even though the season has started a slow towards winter but all is good when you feel the pre-season burn while waiting for the heart of Winter to reveal its smiling face.

Today October 8th, I was sitting in my front room browsing through the web to find out if anyone had been out skiing/boarding since the recent amount of snow dumped in the adjacent Wasatch Mountains. My wife and I had just returned from the Uinta Mountains via Evanston, Wyoming where we enjoyed a weekend with her family at their cabin. It was snowy and fun as the feelings of winter ran through our minds. Anyhoo, I checked out a forum on TGR to see who the anxious skiers were and lo and behold there were 4-5 threads about people who had actually skinned and made turns up at Alta. One group had skied Baldy’s coveted Main Chute and another thread decribed a group of guys getting some ankle deep near the Collins quad.

I couldn’t believe that the snow had fallen so heavily in LCC even though I was at a similar elevation in the Uinta’s. So, the only sane thing to do on my part was to GET SOME FOR MYSELF. Even though my “to do” list beheld the importance of mopping the kitchen floor and prepping the garage floor for paint (my new man lair) I assembled my mountain assault gear and prepared for an October skin. The assemblage of goods was quick since I was working on the mudd room for our winter goods. My gloves, boots, beanie, jacket, mtn. bibs, and pack (loaded with shovel and probe) were already to make the hustled move up to the glorious Collins Valley. The eagerness of getting ready for winter allowed for a speedy transition from homebody to touring freebird. Noticing the clock on the kitchen counter [9:15am] I felt that a quick jaunt would do me justice even if I only achieved ten good turns.

Subaru loaded with mentioned gear and my trusty Exploders with vintage Titanal II Fritschis and equiped skins, I pulled out of the driveway and cranked up the Pinback “…I don’t know how its frozen.” Taking this familar yet maiden voyage again filled my mind with the wonders of the Winter to come; Epic tours and rekindling my love for the Wasatch.
Entering the mouth of LCC my eyes steadied themselves upon the firey red and golden leaves on both sides of the road. The towering granite and colored leaves made a grand entrance to the white room that was laid out before me. It was now close to 10:00am and a few climbers had gathered to enjoy the increased friction on the surrounding granite. Pondering to myself where they might venture my mind quickly reflected back to the task at hand. It was getting late for me as work starts at noon. “What should I ski?” I asked myself. Forsightedly it just did not matter, as long as I skied, period. My objective was now turning into, at the least, a must hike adventure to have untracked turns, somewhere even after the crazy masses had made their mark in the newly fallen October snow. Driving by the ‘Bird my senses were on overload because the ‘Bird was well covered in snow and that translates into even more snow around the corner at Alta.

Pulling in next to Goldminers I parked my car amongst a few cars already there for the goods. A parking employee was busily cleaning snow from some work vehicles and the sounds of heavy machinery filled the air, but I saw no one attempting to ski, ride, shread, or pick through the early season snowpack. I was in fact, all alone for my first skin up into the heights of Alta and it could not have been better for October.

Having prepped at home I stepped out of the car at exactly 10am. Ski’s on my feet, poles in my hands, and a problem that I would need to address later in the day. The problem was that I didn’t know if I could wipe the grin off my face after taking some much deserved October powder turns. It was like clock work - lifting up the free heal adapters for my randonee rig, kicking off my soles, clicking into the binding, securing my gear and pack, then I was off.

My typical skin track is to head straight up the gut where the snow making equipment is normally located during the later days of the month and into November. The run is called corkscrew and the snow was excellent for a skin and the depth equally great. My first encounter with anyone was with a two-ton snowcat that was heading down towards me after compacting the pre-season snow in hopes of helping it stay for the winter. It passed as I continued skinning up to Wildcat Ridge. With time on my mind and thoughts of fresh early season tracks I kicked it into overdrive knowing that if I stopped I would be shorted a bigger ski line to enjoy. As I skinned the sun overhead began to soften the white valley, and as I passed the newly revamped Watson Shelter the crystalized snow was rapidly turning into corn worthy of a summer snowcone.

Reaching the ridge where the Wildcat chair drops off I noticed that my skis were feeling heavy than when I started. Realizing that my skins were picking up the wet snow I made my way up the shoulder a little slower than before because I occasionally had to kick off the mounting clumps. I never really stopped though unless it was to wipe the sweat from my sunglasses. I soon was at the base of the shoulder and ready to make haste up to the summit because why not? I made it thus far with good speed and I noticed along the way that there were not any tracks coming out of Little Chute. If I made the effort to make the ridge and since the snow was getting heavier by the minute, I might as well ski something north facing and in the shade. Main chute was gang skied over the weekend and I have prided myself on skiing Little Chute for my first run of the year, for many years now, and this will be a fall to remember because today I will ski it on the eight of October.

Slogging over rock and wind packed snow on the shoulder I finally was able to see another eager enthusiast making their way past the Watson. I hoped that the snow would keep for their pleasure, as well as for my own. Having kept a rapid pace and having work on my mind I reached the top of Main Chute in one hour and twenty minutes from the car, by far overcoming my usual personal best of two hours. Looking down the coveted chute I chuckled to myself since it was gang skied on October 7th when usually there is only a dusting to admire. I wouldn’t be skiing sloppy seconds, thirds, or after anybody else for that matter, Little Chute was mine.

Taking position above my line just a short distance from the mouth of the Main Chute I removed my skins, put on my jacket and goggles, and then synched down my boots. Peering over the edge into Little Chute I could see a beautiful untracked line before me with plenty of powder pockets to allow for some sweet turns. I could also see plenty of shark tooth like rocks waiting for my skis and me in the case of a fall. Normally at the start of the season there is a mandatory air in the top third of the chute and it looked passable with a quick straightline to the left. Now while I was skinning up the shoulder it was revealed to me that the apron coming out of Little Chute looked like a pinball alley littered with seasoned scree and large boulders from ancient erosion. I had made a mental note not to ski the apron once I exited the chute. The only unseen part of the line was near the lower third of the chute where there is normally a bottle-neck section where a straightline or super tight turns are required to manuever through it. I could not see that section but I felt that the filled in upper section would probably give way to more snow down below, especially after such events like sluffing snow and redoposited snow from the wind. With the clock ticking and the anticipation elevating my mind towards the winter to come, I knelt down for a quick prayer to help me make my way through the chute and back to my car. One more thing was necessary though to keep my karma intact while racking up this October vert., and that was to call into work to let them know that I would be late for my noon shift. It was near 11:40 am and I knew the ski would last at least twenty minutes so I asked to be excused until one o’clock. The reply was sure and then my mind could rest at eaze.

Geared up and ready to descend I made a three turns skiers left of the main entrance to Little Chute in order to avoid the gaping rocks at the true entrance (normally the top has never been skiable during all the times I have skied Little Chute). Next, I made my way into the gut by traversing skiers right into a tight choke that required forced short turns to avoid the rock walls. So far no scraping and only the delightful whoopfs of compressing powder snow. I made my way to the afore mentioned section where a mandatory air is often required at this point in the season and I peered over the edge. The air could be had in nice form but a few shark heads were looking grim near the landing area unless I took a large amount of pre-season air so I looked for an alt route. Just to the left was a filled in line wide enough for me to straightline. Without downclimbing this would be the only route and the big pow pow section just below would allow me to dump speed in a hurry before I started feasting on the untracked line. So I straighted and the near 45 degree angle instantly returned me to winter form. Rushing through the rocky section I pointed myself towards a big powder pillow and made my first winter smear turn that had me relishing in the flying flakes all around me. “Winter is on,” I thought to myself while I transitioned from smear turn to powder skiing in Little Chute on October the eighth. I was able to make near fifteen powder turns, no real face shots after the initial smear, but powder turns none the less before I approached the impending bottle-neck below. Being cautious I side stepped down about ten feet after my blissful ride to inspect this lower section.

The outcome looked grim and I hoped for another straightline section to help me complete the line. It would not be the case as I was soon standing on a frozen waterfall that spilt into the lower third portion of the chute where obvious shark heads were waiting for a fallen victim. I made an attempt to con-myself into believing it could be done. Reality though took me aside to explain the potential incident awaiting an over eager pre-seasoner all alone on this day. I scanned the snow and rock anxiously not wanting to remove my skis for safety. The bottle neck was near 190cm wide at the choke and my exploders are 180cm. To make a Scott Schmidt style hop turn here would be intense but I just could not see it happening. I relented to safety and felt good that it would allow me to ski another day so I clicked out of my Fritschi’s and threw them over the edge tail first in order to stick them into the snow. One, then two and then I carefully sat down on the ice and rock. Just over the edge about four to five feet was a large pocket of snow that I could butt slide to in order to reclaim my gear. Feet first I pushed off and soon I was waist deep in pre-season goodness and loving every minute of it.

Overcoming that obstacle was nothing in retrospect but huge in helping me to think twice about killing off my season before it even started. Soon my gear was back on my feet and some rock and thin snow manipulation training would be my next treat. Without having a wide enough area to make proper turns I side slipped through a rocky section that made me christy tip to tail while scraping the rock walls. I longed to turn but there was not a large enough section of snow to allow me to. I proceeded until I was at the small corner at the bottom of the chute where it spits the skier out skiers right and the impending scree slope awaited. This is the glorious Ballroom where skiers traverse during the regular season, skiers left from the top of the Collins Quad. I too wanted a Ballroom session at this time but the note I previously made about avoiding the apron kept me from ripping into the rocks below and likewise them into me.

Exiting Little Chute there were a few wind swept pillows that held some leeward snow next to the drainage from little chute. I hoped these would make for some good turns so I amounted some speed and smeared onto…ROCK - screeech!!!! And then another…ROCK - screech!!! And that was the end of little chute. I stopped and surveyed the situation seeing that the gang whom skied Main chute were able to make their way down the apron below their line. I decided to traverse over to that area so I entered the small drainage and the manky snow grabbed me, robbing my speed and I took a small tumble onto dirt. There I was laying on my back, upside down in dirt, from a drainage at the exit of Little Chute. I did not care because of the epic time I had just had up above so I righted myself and made the traverse to the left.

This section was surprisingly good and I soon scoped out their tracks while spotting an even better potential in some trees that were skiers left of their tracks. I made my way to the trees and enjoyed some crusty powder turns down to the main run-Main Street. I was soon ripping up the main run and newly compacted snow from the snowcat. Making my way down to the Collins mid-station I noticed a few skiers and boarders making their way up for some turns. I let out a “have fun” to them as I whizzed on by. Making my way back to the Corkscrew I decided to opt for the reeds that were skiers left of that run and directly below the Collins Quad. On the break-over I looked below to scope out the line and noticed that the jib-fest had already begun below. Dozens of boarders and skiers were hiking and building jumps, while others were hitting rails that they had brought with them. Many were shirtless as the sun turned the newly fallen powder in to gloppy wet snow. I eyed a line that would allow me five to six soft turns so I made them as graceful as I could and then made my way to the car.

Looking at my clock it read 12:05 pm. Not bad I thought for making the trek, car-to-car, in two hours time. “What a ride,” I exclaimed internally and then made my way to work.