Okay, so it wasn’t summer, officially, but it sure felt like it as we headed up to Deseret Peak. It felt strange to be driving across the desert of the Tooele Valley at 2 in the morning with skis in the back and bikes on the rack. The forecast high temperature for the day was going to be a balmy 87 degrees, and we were worried about wet avalanches – hence the insanely early start. But with the north Twin Couloirs calling our names for years, and a commitment to ski them this season, our only window was now, before that damn summer sun melted away all hope.
We arrived to South Willow Canyon Road at 2:30 and parked at the winter closure at Scout Camp where we organized ski gear and got on our mountain bikes by 3. With the dry road still closed, we had to use various modes of transportation to reach the peak, including the two-wheeled kind. The road wasn’t steep, but it was sustained and with the weight of our skis, boots and enough food and water for the day weighing us down, pedaling on a road never felt so hard. But it was still a different kind of fun riding bikes by headlamp in a dark alpine canyon to go skiing.
Upon arriving at the trailhead, we locked our bikes to a horse corral, shouldered our packs, and hiked up the Mill Fork Trail. This would be our third travel transition of the trip (the first being cars and the second bikes.) In only a mile of hiking through dry trail and snow drifts, we arrived at the snow line just after where the trail crosses the creek. But instead of continuing on the summer trail, we went right up the creek into Dry Lake Fork – the standard route to ski Deseret Peak’s North Coulouirs – twin chutes that hold snow well into summer.
At the snow line we made our fourth transition from boots to skins and skis. Travel became much easier without the weight of skis and boots on our backs, and skinning atop the snow felt downright luxurious. We made quick work of the steep drainage and topped onto the flats below the summit cliffs just after sunrise. And boy what a sunrise. Purple glow over the Great Salt Lake below gave way to alpenglow orange on the summit cliffs, casting trees and skiers in silhouette.
Before we knew it we stood below the twin couloirs. The west twin was full of wet avalanche debris and looked unappealing as both an ascent and descent route, so we chose the one on lookers left – the east twin. It was more narrow and in far more shadow, but what usually may have been a deterrent became a plus for the summer-like conditions. Despite the sun only being above for a short time, the snow was already getting soft.
Our fifth form of travel saw us transition from skins to ski boots as we were forced into stairmaster mode halfway up the chute. Booting up between the cliff walls was a long but easy chore and soon our party of six was on the summit ridge. A short traverse and bootpack up to the true summit later, and we all had a nap, beers, lunch and an “epic sit” in the “hot tub” while taking in the 360-degree view of Utah’s expansive west desert.
We probably lounged on the summit too long, but the sun and sheer exhaustion kept us lazy. In fact we all were giddy from the combination of no sleep, beer and post-strenuous workout at high altitude. But we roused ourselves to do the thing we came to do – ski the North Couloirs. This would be transition number six, the best one by far.
The descent was fantastic and to our credit, wasting time on the summit yielded enough sun-on-snow transformation to create perfect corn. We made creamy turns from the summit down the south face, then traversed back to the saddle atop the chutes. One by one we dropped in, whooping as we found al-dente corn on the sunny side paired with pure cream snow on the apron below. It was the best summer skiing anyone could ask for. But that sun and the temperatures getting increasingly warmer by the minute was starting to make things dangerous as evidenced by the waterfalls of snow cascading down the summit cliffs with each failing, tumbling cornice.
After the descent, we located a safe spot, lounged some more, passed around a flask of whiskey, ate cheese and salami, and stared at the North Couloirs, tracing our curvatures in the snow from top to bottom. Another hour of sun-bathing, it was time to go home. Skiing down to where we left our hiking shoes was more like water skiing as the snow was now completely saturated. With skis once again on packs, we hiked down to our bikes and flew down the mountain road to our hot cars where summer truly had arrived.
As I drove back to Salt Lake City through Grantsville, I looked back at Deseret Peak in the rear-view mirror and wondered if this would be the last skiing of the season…
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