Years ago, on a mission to ski/rappel down the Northwest Couloir of The Pfeifferhorn, I first laid eyes on Box Elder Peak. After a long ascent up Red Pine Canyon in Little Cottonwood, my touring partners and I crested the ridge above Dry creek Canyon, and beheld I sight I didn’t know existed. If you’ve ever seen Box Elder Peak from the northeast, then you know what I mean. Viewed from the city in the west, the mountain is a common, snow-covered peak, just another white, sharp angle in a row of sharp angles that serrate the horizon. But to see her from the other side, you witness the terrifying aftermath of geologic time. Massive cliffs warped from seismic energy rise up from a gigantic, horseshoe-shaped bowl. Avalanche paths spill down through swaths in the evergreens for thousands of feet, and steep, cliff-strewn headwalls dominate the sky. The dark side of Box Elder is nothing but danger, and ever since I saw this dramatic side of her, I longed to ski it.
Fast forward five years or so, and the time has come. A mini-corn cycle in the Wasatch thanks to unseasonably warm, March temperatures gave us the bravery to finally attempt Box Elder. Adam Symonds and I got a dawn start at the Dry Canyon trailhead in Alpine, where we had to hike a mile on exposed dirt before hitting the snow line. Winter had not been kind to Utah this year.
With skis and skins on our feet, we made our way up canyon to the base of the mountain. Slowly, the amphitheater of rock and snow I took in from the Pfeifferhorn came into view. It was still breathtaking, and it stirred something in Adam as his doldrums about the hike in evaporated at the sight. Emboldened, we traversed to the east ridge, home of the Shotgun Chutes, to have a look.
After switchbacking up through evergreens on the steep, north aspect, we found the remains of an avalanche set off the day before. A party of three caused the slide in the first Shotgun Chute, and one person was injured. Luckily the avalanche pinned him to a tree, which stopped him from being swallowed whole in the terrain trap below. Shaken by the sight, we continued up, mentally crossing the chutes off our descent list.
Soon, we rose above tree line where the ridge mellowed out in a series of undulating cornices. We stayed well away from the overhanging snow and traversed just below the ridge on the west face of Box Elder’s cauldron. Just below the summit, we came upon shredded, yellow balloons with a card attached. Written on the card, in childlike letters were messages saying goodbye to a little boy who clearly died. A release of yellow balloons meant for heaven lost one that went astray, where it found it’s resting place among the mountains.
At the top, we took few photos as the sun went behind dark clouds and the wind picked up. Debating a safe route to ski down, we crossed off north-facing slopes due to recent activity and settled on a west-facing ramp that gave access to the low-angle part of the main headwall. Although wet activity was evident from the day before, the high clouds kept the snow cold, so we weren’t concerned with repeaters.
It turned out to be a good decision. The skiing was soft and the turns were easy. We leapfrogged our way down the face to the bottom of the bowl, and made tight turns on the low angle, north aspect where chalky snow yielded under our skis. It was surprisingly good and we hollered with joy while traveling below that mind-boggling, west cliff that had been burned in my mind for so long.
Finally, I skied Box Elder Peak, and it as every bit as gigantic and terrifying as I imagined her to be when I first laid eyes on her north side on that Pfeifferhorn ridge.
Nice tag! Beautiful part of the Wasatch, that Box Elder Peak. Funny you got your first glimpse of the peak from that day on the Pfeiff, which I well remember – I was 1/2 of the party that dropped it just behind your party. Oh, Wasatch memories…
Yea, I remember watching you guys rappel from below. That was a great day, but the wet slides in the afternoon were spooky! I’ve never seen powder clouds from spring avalanches before. Needless to say, we were slow getting out… It was an influential day!