Wanderlust can cause a backcountry skier to not only travel in many different places, but also travel farther than what would normally be prudent. The urge to see just over that ridge, or peer around the next corner can turn “wanderlust” into “wanderlost.” Garden City Canyon in far northern Utah’s Bear Lake Mountains was the stage on which myself, Mason and Adam became wanderlost in a temple of snow-covered pines and meadows of pure white.
We began at the Swan Road trailhead near the summit of Highway 89 in Logan Canyon. Adam and I skinned up what is usually a summer road, now turned into a route for snowmobiles and powder hungry skiers searching for fresh powder in distant places. The road went north for a few miles, switchbacking beneath large cliffs before reaching a flat area where skin tracks from previous parties headed up the ridge. Fresh snow covered everything, creating a storybook landscape of sugar-coated trees that you swear you could eat like cotton candy.
A short ascent through thick evergreen forests brought us to the top of the ridge where huge low-angle meadows spilled down into Garden City Canyon. It was a white canvas of untracked snow, marred only by two solitary lines that proved we were in the right place. Hungry after the long hike up, we dropped in and gorged ourselves on frozen crystals, turn by turn.
For an early-season outing, the skiing was surprisingly good, made better by the inches of snow that fell the night before. No wind affected the surface, and broken clouds allowed enough sunlight through to cast the slopes in solid relief. After each run, Adam and I quickly skinned back up for more, making our way from one meadow to the next nearly until sundown when the high temperature of 16 degrees began to rapidly drop. It was time to head out for the warm confines of Adam’s camper and beer waiting in the fridge.
The next day was snowy, cloudy and windy. All three elements spoiled our mood, but we went back to the trailhead for more. There, we met up with Mason who drove up from Salt Lake to join us in a mission to ski Swan Peak, a mountain we scoped out the day before across Garden City Canyon. Up the summer road we went once again, and kept going beyond our skin tracks from the previous day. The snow was deep and light from even more cold precipitation overnight, causing us to break trail into uncharted lands. We skinned for miles before leaving the road to contour onto the never-ending ridgeline the leads to the summit of Swan Peak.
Through high winds, no visibility, and the constant snowfall, we relied on our topo maps and Mason’s GPS to find our way to the top where we knew the west face would be our route back into the canyon below Garden City Meadows. Once again the landscape was like a fairy-scape as we walked through a hallway of ghosted pines, lined up like marble pillars in Ullr’s Temple.
As we finally neared our descent, the clouds broke just enough for us to see across the narrow valley and our return route home. After a quick lunch we dropped into what we feared would be thin-cover but found soft powder just deep enough to inspire confidence among the bushes and rocks. For over 1,200 feet we skied, turning around brush like racers bumping gates until we ended at a creek on the canyon bottom.
Then the ascent back to Garden City Meadows began, where breaking trail up steep powder fields and through tangles of deadfall proved exhausting. Time passed and our plans for a bonus run evaporated with a decision to bail based on wind loading and the disappearing sun. Our wanderlust for Swan Peak took us too far, and it was time to go home.
Looking for a shortcut to avoid miles of skate-skiing on the road, we traversed the ridge in search of a similar west-facing slope with easy turns like the one we skied on Swan Peak. Instead we found cliff bands and groves of manky pucker brush that forced us to route-find with tips up for fear of dipping a ski beneath a season-ending root or branch. With darkness visibly descending, snow falling anew, and winds picking back up, we made it to the “yurt of wheels” after 9.5 miles of thigh-killing trail breaking. Beer was consumed, beef jerky and mint cookies were torn into, and our adventure was toasted on honor of getting “wanderlost.”