There are many classic backcountry ski descents in the Central Wasatch. Routes like the South Face of Superior, the Pfeifferhorn’s Northwest Couloir, and Coalpit Headwall come to mind. Well, Bonkers most certainly belongs on that list. This massive ramp of snow is located in Broads Fork, and features a 2,500 foot ski or snowboard descent where legend says you can make over 100 turns from top to bottom. Add in scenery from the upper cirque, Stairs Gulch and Twin Peaks to the south, and you’ve got the fixin’s for a must-do tour.
In early March, Mike D and I caught the perfect weather window to seek out corn turns in Broads. We got an early start, meeting before dawn in Sugarhouse and pulled up at the trailhead well before light broke the horizon. We pulled on our boots and applied skins to skis by headlamp, then began the steep climb through fir and aspen forests into Broads Fork.
Only an hour passed before enough faint, grey light emerged above the tree tops for us to turn off our lamps and skin by the dull glow reflected off the snow. Before long, we emerged from the forested trail into the upper cirque as a line of sun crept down the mountainsides. At a large meadow, we ate a quick bite and took in the scenery, scoping out lines in every direction. But the one we came for loomed to the southwest.
Bonkers is a gift from Ullr. If there is a more perfect backcountry line in the Wasatch, I’d like to know, because this wide ramp of snow is long, with a perfect pitch and fall line. Skinning up the series of switchbacks in the center of the run illustrates how massive the terrain is as the ascent just keeps going, and going and going. Around 2,500 feet later, one reaches the saddle where an intense view of the Salt Lake Valley spreads below the shake-in-your-boots Stairs Gulch, another Big Cottonwood test piece best reserved for the most avalanche-stable days.
As Mike and I topped out on the saddle, we decided to eek out a bit more vertical, and bootpacked up another 300 feet over hard-packed snow and boulders to an unnamed knob below Twin Peaks. From here, we could traverse out over bands of rock and small cliffs to an open run, then make turns without coming down on a ski party of eight skinning up below us.
The run was impossibly long. It began with a shady section of hard, leg-chattering snow that soon softened up as soon as we crossed the sun line. Dozens of carveable turns above a small series of cliffs forced another short traverse to a wider bowl where we allowed our skis to realize their full potential. We trenched curves into spring corn, and the group ascending whooped and hollered. One jealous guy could be heard narrating Mike’s descent with, “yea, that’s it, get it, gettin’ after it, oh yea” exclamations more appropriate for a Cinemax late-night movie.
After God-knows-how-many-turns, we came to the middle of Bonkers-proper and stopped for a rest. My thighs screamed, and I was only half way down. A good contest would be to see who can ski the entire length of the run without stopping, and I had just been humbled. Breath caught and legs rested, we continued, making even wider turns in ever-softening snow on low-angle terrain that allowed tons of speed as we coasted into the flats below.
The classics never disappoint.