Summary:
On the weekend of April 12-13,
Frederique, Jean, Mike, and Dan took a driving trip to Brian Head
in Southern Utah to ski on fresh snow powder. While exhausting,
the trip was very successful.
Participants and planning:
Remarkably little planning
went into this trip.
After reports of 3 feet of
fresh powder snow on the week leading to the April 5 weekend --
very unusual for this late in the season -- I tried to talk some
people into going with me to ski Brian Head, Utah. When no one
obliged, I went myself: I flew to Las Vegas, rented a car, and
drove to Brian Head. On Monday, I drove everyone envious with
details of my trip. When Brian Head got another 3 feet
of powder the next week, I found it considerably easier to convince
a car full of people to come along. The initial plan called for
Myself, Mike Kennedy, Jean de Traversay, and Min Shao to go. Will
Ferguson was also a potential comer, but on Friday he informed
me, tears in his eyes, that he had other obligations. On Friday
afternoon, the modelers had an offsite meeting to discuss various
issues confronting the modeling group. The plan was to leave directly
from the meeting -- in La Jolla -- and head straight to Utah.
That plan was modified when Frederique Vernhes (Fred), who took
a break from her current vacation to attend the offsite, was recruited
to come along, and when Min Shao canceled. While I may well win
the ski-fanatic award -- for going to Brian Head two weekends
in a row -- Fred certainly has a lock on the spare-of-the-moment
award. Not yet unpacked from a multi-week visit to the East Coast,
Fred agreed to come along with only about 10 minutes worth of
trip-packing.
The only pre-trip preparations
I made were hotel reservations at Brian Head, calling in for the
latest snow reports, and 9 huge sandwiches.
Friday: The San Diego to Utah Drive.
Mike and I departed my home
at 6:30pm. We passed through the HNC parking lot to pick up Mike's
ski equipment and bags, and went on to Fred's home in Encinitas
-- where Jean was already waiting. After a fairly complex exercise
of getting all of our bags and equipment into the limited luggage
compartment of my Saturn (with each subsequent iteration, as the
trip progressed, we got better at this exercise), and with 4 pairs
of skis on the rack above the car, we departed by 7:00pm. The
difficulties of getting from Encinitas to I-15 North manifested
themselves in the circuitous (and perhaps non-optimal) route we
took -- via El Camino Real and Route 78 -- to get to I-15. Once
on the interstate, the drive was very direct: The same road would
take us all the way to the foots of the mountain. In Victorville,
about 2:30 hours and 160 miles into the trip, we took a one hour
diner break. After careful drive-by-sampling the culinary offerings
of Victorville, We ate in a bright little place called American
Diner. While their menu was rather limited, our attention was
captured by one of their dishes -- Ostrich Burgers. When we realized
that this wasn't just a flowery name, but an accurate description
of the dish, some of us could not help but order the big bird
burger. At 11:06pm, in Barstow, 4 hours and 196 miles after departing
Encinitas, we stopped for the first of the four Gas fill-ups of
the trip.
A large collection of brightly lit hotels, in the middle of a dark desert, advertised Primm, Nevada, on the California-Nevada state line tens of miles before we got there. We reached Las Vegas, 330 miles from San Diego, by 1:00am. Traffic was significant -- but not overwhelming -- the entire way. We took a short drive through some of the lit streets of the City of Sin, and a leg stretching break at a convenience store. The tentative thinking was that we would find a hotel room in Las Vegas, unless we felt we could drive on easily enough. We decided we could continue, at least as far as St. George, Utah (about 120 miles). The entire driving thus far was done by myself, and we still had 3 fresh drivers in the car. We departed Las Vegas, heading North, at 1:30am with Jean at the wheel. With the Nevada speed limits of 75 MPH, and Jean driving a touch above that, we were making good progress.
About 90 miles north of Las Vegas, just inside the state of Arizona -- through a corner of which I-15 makes a short trek -- we passed through the Virgin River Gorge. Even in the pitch dark desert, the suddenness of the towering mountains and the tiny gorge through which I-15 crossed them, proved quite impressive. The speed limit in Arizona is 65 MPH, and inside the Gorge it is 55 MPH. More time we forgot to count on was lost upon entering Arizona as we crossed into the Mountain Time Zone. I, least of all, having crossed exactly the same line a week earlier, had no excuse for this forgetfulness. Of course, there wasn't anything that could have been done about it in any event... Jean was a bit concerned that the fuel tank was down to a quarter, and there are no services for some miles. I assured him that we will have no difficulties reaching St. George. We emerged from the 11 miles Gorge in a climate zone entirely unlike the desert that was our environs since leaving San Diego.
Shortly after 4:00am, Mountain Time, we crossed the Utah state line -- where the speed limit went back up to 75 MPH -- and reached St. George. After fueling up at 4:23am, Jean pointed out that he is still fresh enough for a little more driving, and we decided to push another 40 miles to Cedar City -- the farthest city where we would have a good expectation of finding available hotel rooms. As we progressed northward, the air got colder, then we noticed some snow flakes, and eventually we were driving through a full fledge Utah snow blizzard. I suppose this shouldn't have come to us as any surprise -- given that the large amount of snow this region has received in the prior two weeks was our reason for being there in the first place.
We reached the motel were
we stayed the night, a Motel Eight, around 5:00am. Traveling from
Encinitas to Cedar City took a total of 9 hours, of which a little
more than 7 were spent driving. Jean rented 2 rooms, with two
beds each, for $50 per room. While we would not be attempting
to make the 9:00am lifts opening hour, we did set an aggressive
9:00am waking hour. At least we would get a little sleep in a
bed before Saturday's skiing. At 9:00am I took a quick look out
the window, saw the blizzard still in full force, and everything
in sight buried under mounds of new snow, and speculated that
there is little chance we would be able to go on any mountain
road any time soon. This speculation had the highly attractive
feature of implying that we might as well go back to sleep. Mike
accepted it without even the minimum due-diligence of looking
out the window himself. Around 9:20am, we were again awaken when
Jean called to ascertain that we are ready to go. Apparently,
he had not reached the same conclusions we did. He called Brian
Head, and they said they only got 2 inches, and would soon have
the roads cleared. With good dispatch we were up and ready to
eat the toast-and-orange-juice breakfast the motel provides, check
out, load the car, clean it (of snow), and be on our way by around
10am.
Saturday: The Drive Up to Brian Head.
Driving through the heavy snow, on a busy and not well cleared Interstate proved quite a challenge. As a reminder, we saw a 4-by-4 vehicle which seems to have skidded about 300 feet from the road through the fresh snow. It would appear the driver attempted to stay at 70 MPH or so as he turned into the exit, and the vehicle just kept going -- leaving a very clean trail in the snow behind. I slipped, slightly, once or twice during the 25 miles drive on I-15 North from Cedar City to Parowan; particularly when trying to change lanes to avoid being trapped behind a long column of vehicles following some old granny in a Town Car. One such granny "pace setter", we recognized from the hotel's breakfast. While we didn't put much emphases on the consideration the night before, the fact that we went as far as Cedar City saved us a lot of blizzard driving in the morning. Had we slept in Las Vegas or St George, we might have had to do a few hours of blizzard-driving.
When we reached Parowan, at
the foot of the Brian Head mountain, the snow had tapered off.
It was also apparent that Parowan, indeed, received a smaller
share of snow the previous night. Still at the wheel, I begun
the 12 miles climb up the mountain. About 3 miles into that climb,
as careful as I thought I was, I entered an icy patch a touch
faster than I should have. With a mountain wall to the right of
the narrow road, and a substantial drop to the left, I found the
car in a complete skid. Remembering the rules about pumping the
breaks while on slippery surface, and with the natural gravity
breaks that comes with uphill driving, I was able to regain full
control of the car and bring it to a complete stop; but not before
it made a complete 180 degrees "U" turn. With it's poor
turning radius, the Saturn would not have been able to make a
"U" turn in such a narrow road if it was by design.
A 4-Wheel-Drive vehicle coming down the road had a full view of
this event. Fortunately, they were able to easily stop well before
anything nasty might have happened. They told us that just above
where we were there was a "white spot" where vehicles
without chains were being turned away. Already facing downward,
we decided to go back to Parowan and get chains. According to
the Owner's Manuel, and the dealers who were trying to sell me
a $300 substitute gizmo, my Saturn may not utilize chains. The
debate if this is an edict which should be ignored became moot
when we learned, from the attendants at a Parowan service station,
that there was not one chain left to sell in the entire town.
We decided to try up the mountain again, this time with the more
experienced Jean at the wheel. The fact that we saw a clearing
truck head up the mountain when we went down gave us extra hope.
Jean passed, without hesitation, the flashing yellow lights on
a chains-only-beyond-this-point-when-flashing sign, as well as
a dozen vehicles putting chains on. Still shaken from my close
call, I kept urging Jean to drive slowly. Thanks to Jean's driving
skill we reached the top safely. Total distance from San Diego
to the top of Brian Head is about 560 miles.
Saturday: Skiing in a Snow Storm.
We reached the slopes around
noon time, geared up, and bought two-days passes ($60 each). Remembering
the wind burns I suffered last week, I purchased a pair of skiing
goggles. Between the clouded skies, my (optical) sunglasses, the
goggles, the fact that they were both fogging constantly, and
the heavy snow that was continuing to fall; I could not see very
much for most of the day. I was also quite cold. Having learned
to ski in the 80-degrees-weather of Southern California slopes,
the concept of skiing in cold temperature was foreign to me. My
favorite ski lift from last week was closed (for the season).
The Snow-Cat service was closed due to inclement weather and avalanche
risk. With the large quantity of new powder snow, there were no
groomed trails. Jean was ecstatic with the fresh powder. He led
us to his favorite lift -- Roulette -- covering some of the most
challenging (lift-accessible) runs of Brian Head. Fred and I were
having a hard time with the powder-covered slope. After a while,
I got used to this form of skiing (which I never did before --
other than the Snow-Cat run of the previous week). Jean was giving
us all free lessons in powder skiing and leading us through uncut
sections between the trees. Those runs were quite fun, but very
exhausting to those who did not know how to properly ski in powder
(like myself). I found it quite easy to tumble, head first, while
powder-skiing. So did some of the others. We observed that having
eaten the specialty burgers the night before, some of us were
now acting like Snow-Ostriches. By 2:30pm I was tired enough to
sit out one run. The weather turned somewhat weird. The sun was
breaking out between and through clouds as it was continuing to
snow -- sometimes heavily. Around 3:30pm Fred was also too exhausted
to continue, and I was ready to skip a few more runs (but not
give up on the day entirely). We skied down to the Cafe, had some
hot chocolate and sandwiches (me). Just before the lifts closed
at 4:30pm, I took the whole-mountain-lift up for one last top-to-bottom
run (alone).
Saturday: After Skiing.
Still in ski gear, we drove
a mile (or so) to the hotel where our rooms were in order. For
the $49 price tag, the hotel is quite nice. (Actually, the normal
price is $79, but April is considered out-of-season, regardless
how much it happens to snow). Having just eaten two sandwiches,
I wasn't as hungry as the others. Around 6:00pm, Jean and I went
to the hotel's Jacuzzi and pool. It is a very nice set up, in
a temperature controlled glass-enclosure. Fred, with no bathing
suit, did not come; and Mike was sleeping through a bout of migraines.
In the Jacuzzi we met a Corsican who now lives in Las Vegas, and
regularly comes to ski in Brian Head -- and many other places.
He stated that this is the best snow he has seen in over 10 years.
A group of very friendly ski instructors Jean met at the Jacuzzi
before I arrived also commented that this was the lightest powder
this season. At my recommendation, having done so myself last
week, we eat dinner at the hotel. We did so around 8:30pm, after
Mike has substantially recovered. Dinner, dessert, as well as
the service, were very good and won universal acclaim from our
group. After dinner, around 9:30pm, we checked out the Hotel's
nightclub and found that while it had a live band -- rather impressive
for such a remote location -- it was still less than lively. We
decided to walk 0.2 miles to the other hotel in town to check
out their night club. Walking on the sloping, icy path proved
challenging as some of us found in a rather bumpy fashion. We
got a spectacular view of the night sky. The cloud and snow had
only departed an hour earlier, and the clear, high altitude air,
with no city light source for hundreds of miles made for excellent
view. The Hale-Bopp comet, located by Jean, was clearly and sharply
visible (the UFO trailing it, was a little harder to see, though).
The other hotel's nightclub was even less lively than the first
one -- with some drunk middle-agers. While walking back toward
our hotel, in good spirits, some of us -- lead by Jean -- attempted
to knock some rather towering icicles with snow balls. We learned
that, for the most part, ice is sturdier than snow. We returned
to our hotel's nightclub and found that it was, slightly, more
lively then. After music listening and people watching for some
time, we played a game of pool. We really got our money's worth
from the pool-table-machine, as we took an inordinate number of
turns until finally the 8-ball was sunk (by Fred). After the game
I decided that I value sleep more than anything that might happen
at the club. I turned in at 11:00pm. After I left, Mike and Jean
played another pool game. Later, I was told, a cross-dresser (or
worst) made a bit of a spectacular entrance and, basically, stole
the show from the live band. Everyone else went to sleep around
12:30am.
Sunday: Before skiing.
We made it a point to check
out of the hotel at 8:30am and reach the slope before they open
at 9:00am. The most important objective was to get tickets on
the first Snow-Cat run of the day, at 10am, when the entire top
mountain still had virgin uncut powder. With a clear bright sun,
and no trace of a cloud in the sky, the Snow-Cat service was open
all day with hourly service. We reached the slopes just before
the lifts started operating, and got our Snow-Cat tickets. They
are priced very reasonably at $5 per ride. Jean went all-out and
bought tickets for the 10am, 11am, 1pm, and 2pm runs. Between
the time the Snow-Cat take to reach the top of the mountain, the
time it takes to walk to the down-slope, to ski down, and to reach
the Snow-Cat meeting point again; it takes just under an hour.
So, with the exception of lunchtime, Jean would be spending most
of the day Cat-Skiing. The rest of us choose a less aggressive
two-runs schedule: At 10am and at 1pm. We ate breakfast at the
Ski Lodge Cafe. By the time we finished, to my mild disappointment,
there wasn't enough time to do even one run and get back up to
the 10am Snow-Cat meeting point. The Snow-Cat run would have to
be the first. We did some stretching exercises instead. We resolved
to have no more Snow-Ostriches today.
Sunday: Skiing and Cat-Skiing in Bright Sunshine.
The Snow-Cat (for Caterpillar) is a large vehicle that drives on snow. It is a variant of the vehicle used to groom snow -- and, in fact, for some of it's path it was grooming and hard-packing snow as it went -- with the added feature that it can carry about a dozen passengers in the back. The Snow-Cat service takes skiers to the peak of Brian Head mountain; about 400 feet higher than the highest lift can reach. The drive is a slow, noisy, circuitous route that takes about 20 minutes. I was quite cold by the time we reached the top. The view from the top extends to all 360 degrees. Visibility must have been well over 100 miles. We could see Cedar Break National Monument as if it was right next door, Zion national Park farther out, and while the Grand Canyon is not quite visible from Brian Head; the mountain ranges which form the north ridge of the canyon are. We could also see countless other snow-peaked towering rocky mountains throughout. I suppose this part of the country isn't called the "Rocky Mountains" for nothing. At the top, the snow is knee deep and very hard to walk on to get to the downward trails. There are about a half dozen trails downward. All are classified double-black-diamond. The harder ones are Chutes -- some narrower than the length of a ski -- between towering rocks. The less hard ones are Bowls, covered with tall powdered snow. With the huge amount of fresh powder, the bowls are not particularly difficult -- other than the fact that they are quite steep (for me). Fred was a bit nervous and discouraged at the sight and feel of the snow on the top of the mountain, and her dissatisfaction with her Saturday's skiing. However, with a bit of encouragement from Jean ("nothing to worry about") and me ("if I can do it, surely you can") she went down and had a great time doing so. The Ski Patrol guy who accompanied our group asked if anyone intends to go down the chutes. Barely letting him finish his question, Jean jumped in with an affirmative. the rest of us were quite content to do the Bowl. Jean, with a tight 11am deadline for the next Snow-Cat, simply took off and disappeared in a cloud of powder. The rest of us had to trek some distance -- above the chutes -- to reach the Bowl. While the trek itself is not very difficult, the fact that it is right above the forbidding chutes scared me. Even though I was able to do it last week, I was still quite nervous as I crossed it and was the last one over (still, I took less time than last week). By the time I reached the Bowl, everyone else was already down. Fred and Mike were waiting for me, and everyone else was gone. The pristine, uncut, Bowl of a few minutes ago was now chopped to pieces by nearly a dozen intersecting trails. I was still able to find new snow to cut, and I went down the Bowl haphazardly. While at no point did I actually fall, sometimes I would come to a full stop, waist deep in powder in a position that is hard to distinguish between falling and standing.
After the first Snow-Cat run,
Fred, Mike, and myself went to the Roulette lift for the next
hour. From the top of that lift we could see the 11am Snow-Cat
people going down. We couldn't tell, though, which one was Jean.
Fred and Mike wanted to run the powdered moguls, while I preferred
the gentler groomed runs. We would lift up together, and then
ski down separately. Even though they are better than I am, groomed
runs are so much easier that I usually would reach the bottom
of the lift well before they did, and have enough time to take
my skis off and relax in the now-warming sun.
We met Jean for lunch around
12 noon in the Cafe at the bottom.
After lunch we all went for
the 1pm Snow-Cat ride. Before the ride, we had just enough time
for one run from the top of the mountain down. It had to be done
with in 8 minutes. Racing against the clock, Mike timed himself
at 2:30 minutes, and I arrived last -- taking about 4 minutes.
Not bad for a 1.5 miles run. This time, everything was ideal.
The sun kept us warm, Fred was no longer nervous, I knew how to
do the traverse fairly quickly (although I was still last), and
Jean didn't even wait for a cue from ski patrol before jumping
into the chute. This time I had an excellent run, cutting some
more new snow. While Snow-Ostriches were now out, I did have an
instance of a Snow-Gopher (only the head sticking out of the snow).
The traverse from the bowl back to the lift area includes a section
where one must pick up as much speed as possible so as to have
enough speed for a subsequent up-hill section. The mechanics of
skiing allows one to convert momentum to altitude. A problem with
this technique comes if -- especially at the lowest, and fastest,
point -- the skier falls down. In which case, momentum is converted
into pain (not much, though, it's just snow). This was my fate,
as the Snow-Snakes (mysterious, yet to be sighted, creatures that
must come out of the snow and grab skiers -- or at least that's
the only possible explanation for some falls that seem to come
without a warning or reason) chose that point to strike. With
all speed lost, the only way back up is a short, but arduous,
trek. Fred and Mike, who had to trek some of that distance, were
kind enough to wait for me at the top.
Fred, Mike, and I repeated
our Roulette runs in the afternoon; and, again, we got to see
Jean and the 2pm Cat-Skiers group go down the chutes.
Around 3pm, Jean, finished
with his Cat-Skiing for the day and joined us. We did some separate
runs, as before (where I would run the groomed trails, and everyone
else do the powder-on-moguls runs). For some of the runs Jean
and the others would join me and he would make suggestions on
ways to improve my poor skiing form (although, better than when
he last taught me skiing a few months back).
On the final run of the day,
all the way to the bottom, Fred and Jean sped down a trail and
I followed them in the hope that I might catch up if they take
a breather. Caught up, I did; and what a priceless sight I saw:
Jean, on his back, legs higher than head, skis still on, in a
3-feet deep tree covered ditch, with broken branches all over
his outfit; and Frederique going from one uncontrolled laugh to
another (Jean was laughing too). Jean, during a breather break,
slowly skied backward, and toppled over back right into the ditch.
Jean was entirely unhurt -- deep, soft, snow is very forgiving
-- but for several minutes he was in the "I've fallen, and
I can't get up" mode. All our falls of the last two days
suddenly looked a lot less embarrassing.
The lifts closed at 4:30pm,
ending our skiing for the day, and probably the season.
Sunday: The Drive Home.
After skiing I learned of various food mishaps -- like leaving an untight coke bottle lying in the car -- that have ruined some (but not all) of my sandwiches and other food. Oh well. We took a quick stop at a gift shop next to the slope where I got a T-shirt, Mike a postcard, Fred got mixed nuts (anything else?), and Jean got a gift T-shirt and a gift Poster (for Min).
We left Brian Head, with me driving, at 5:30pm. With all the roads now pristinely cleared, the drive down the mountain was quite easy. My objective was to drive through Utah at a sustained 90 MPH -- 15 MPH above the speed limit. However, between the moderate traffic and the fact that the Saturn is not powerful enough to smoothly go that fast with 4 pair of skis on top, I only rarely managed to keep that speed. I was kept "down" to the low 80's most of the time.
On the drive back we got to see in daylight many of the spectacular views we missed Friday night: The red clay rocks of Southern Utah, the black mountains of Northwestern Arizona, the stunning sights of Zion National Park which I-15 skirts, and finally the Virgin River Gorge. In the day light it was possible to see some large animals grazing by the gorge. We stopped inside the gorge for a 30 minutes leg-stretching break. I used the opportunity to gobble another sandwich. We walked down to the Virgin River and observed a surprisingly wide variety of plants and flowers.
Once again, we observed, inside
the Gorge that we were low on Fuel. Actually, we were planning
to fuel up in St George, but forgot about it as we buzzed past
the city. Once again, we had no difficulties reaching the next
town -- Mesquite, Nevada; on the Arizona-Nevada border -- to fuel
up. We observed that, while much smaller, Mesquite's building
and street style was reminiscent of San Diego. That analogy went
farther than we wished when the, seemingly major, street we were
traveling on -- in search of a gas station -- suddenly dead-ended.
We reached Las Vegas at 8:00pm,
Pacific Time. We chose to have dinner in the new New York, New
York casino hotel. This is a very impressive hotel. The inside
of the hotel is fashioned -- in a theme-park-like artistry --
to look like streets in downtown New York city (minus the cars).
Complete with graffiti-covered mailboxes, steams coming out of
covered man-holes, and a simulated night sky. We ate at a Chinese
restaurant inside the hotel -- one of perhaps tens of dining establishments
in this city-inside-a-hotel. The food was excellent, but the service
a bit over-burdened. Having essentially never been in a casino
(despite passing through Las Vegas for the fourth time in the
last 9 days), I was curious to take a bit of a tour. Jean was
eager to get home sooner. We compromised: Mike, Fred, and I took
a 20 minutes walk around the casino floor, while Jean took relaxation
time in the car.
We left Las Vegas at 10:30
PM. The drive home was a marvel of clockwork optimization. Stopping
for nothing but fuel and driver changes, and sustaining 10-15
MPH above the speed limit (of 70 MPH, most of the time), we made
excellent time. Having driven the 200 miles from Brian Head to
Las Vegas, I was out of the driving loop. Mike drove from Las
Vegas until we refueled in Barstow at 12:29am. Fred drove from
Barstow to (around) San Bernardino, and was prudent enough to
admit when she was getting tired. Jean drove the rest. We did
the 330 miles from Las Vegas to Encinitas in an incredible 4:30
hours.
We reached Fred's home by
3:00am, and after less than 15 minutes of unloading and moving
gear between vehicles, we were all on our ways home.
Conclusion
Great Trip. Perfect snow.
Excellent optimization of a rather stressing driving demands.
Exciting encounters with Snow-Cats, Snow-Ostriches, Snow-Gophers,
and Snow-Snakes.
Accounting:
Group expenses are $86.35
each ($345.41 / 4).
As a reconciliation check: (-$78.85) + ($10.15) + ($13.78) + ($54.93) = $0
(Actually, there is an
$.01 roundoff error)
Settlement: Fred should
pay Mike, Jean, and myself: $10.15, $13.78, and $54.93, respectively,
for a total of $78.85.
Dan Shoham.