Wasatch Range: Mount Superior
Ridiculously accessible and iconic, Mt. Superior looms over the twin resorts of Alta and Snowbird. We woke up at 5:50am in Big Cottonwood Canyon at John Howland and Dane Weister's house. They're the bomb, both of them.
It was dark and then not. Caroline Gleich had skied the East Face yesterday - we'd seen on Instagram - and didn't die, so seemed good? Whatever, the snowpack was made of concrete.
We all skinned separately up the first section to the ridge taking Instagram stories etc. as the sun rose so that all the people that think we live really cool lives could get their does of sublime for the day. What story am I telling with my Instagram story? The snow was super crusty on the South aspect we'd been skinning and would remain that way forever. We followed the ridge South along the excessive amount of evidence of traffic—bootpacks, skin tracks, dog prints.
At some point we got to the summit which was very small. There was another guy who was super nice there when I arrived and I sort of flubbed the interaction.
Hey! How you doing?
What you gonna ski?
We're gonna play on the North bowl and then eventually ski the East face when it warms up.
Oh cool, we're skiing Heart of Darkness!
Awesome (has not clue what HoD is)! Crampons..interesting choice!
Huh, yeah...I guess I probably didn't need them. I guess I just feel better with them on.
Huh. Cool. Well, enjoy!
So we skied the Northeast bowl and it was deep powder and then skinned back up and dropped into the East face. The snow made for pretty marginal skiing, but it was safe. You could get Trump-boy to take a M.O.A.B. to that pack and it still wouldn't move. It got softer lower down and I did some wall-ride to rock to tomahawk.
And then we were down. A nice girl named Sarah picked us up and we packed into her Honda CR-V and rode up to the Alta Lodge where Evan and his snowboard felt oppressed. Superior was quick and logistically straightforward. It felt like a Teton Pass tour with Alaska-sized lines.
We walked to the car and drove to the Sandy Bear Diner and ate a shit-ton of food. Our waiter was from London via Chicago. He talked at us a lot and may have been the best waiter of all time. Shouts out to that guy. We ate ourselves into a coma and then hit the road for Great Basin National Park.