Sparkle Day

The bloated moon hung low in the west. We piled into Sam's second homeowner SUV and made the quick trip into the canyon. It was a day of utmost sparkle. The trees were thickly laced with rime. We breathed in sequins.

I was still hanging onto one of those lame little winter colds that never fully evaporates. I coughed and blew snot. My lanky companions skinned away from me. Their long legs worked up and down like pistons. I tried not to be grumpy about always getting dropped. Immediately.

Our progress slowed when the trail turned elsewhere and we had to cut up to the plateau. The only sound was the gentle collapse of powder under our skis.

We peered across the canyon at the objective. We gauged wind-loading and line choice. A lot of snow and a lot of wind had just happened. Concerning but perhaps not a deal breaker. Perhaps.

The first run was fast, a little sun affected. We straight-lined through a chute. Our fingers got cold in the shaded basin below. The climb out of the creek bed was taxing. We each felt fatigued for different reasons. The pistons pumped at half speed through untouched snow. We swapped pulls at the front.

The Grand emerged before us, an apparition with gusts of cloud wreathing it. I had a beer in my pack but I am rarely in the mood to drink on cold summits.

We picked our way carefully along the softly corniced ridge. My heart beat fast. Moving snow might lead to unmanageable consequences. No snow moved.

Cy was nervous. He was leery of the unknowns. There might be a cliff choke. The chute is a big empty expanse, an obvious slide path. He dropped first into the west-facing trees because he has an airbag. He radio'd back to us. We picked our way down. The snow was really really good.

Our nerves receded as the line revealed itself to be open. It hadn't been blasted by solar rays yet. Nothing moved under our skis. We slashed deep turns. Lovely. Not scary.

We soon had to put skins back on. It was that or wade through snow down the flat canyon. The walk out felt inexorable. My boots found new places to rub. My backpack chafed my shoulders. My nose burned. But all walks end eventually. We lounged by the car. Our gear was strewn around us in attention-seeking piles. I looked smugly at the cross-country skiers filtering in and out of the parking lot. I thought, Going uphill and downhill is far superior.