The Rogers dispatch, received via the Sultan Express (a predictably sluggish ascent, the faded yellow lift towers a study in industrial melancholy), detailed a familiar lament. The erosion of experience, diluted by volume. One observes the same phenomenon here, at Deer Valley. The Ikon Pass contingent, arriving in ever-increasing numbers, possess a peculiar disregard for personal space and, more crucially, the sanctity of a perfectly groomed run. They mistake proximity for participation.
Snowbasin, apparently, suffered a similar affliction. The brief window of acceptable conditions—a granular, almost crystalline texture, not quite powder, but possessing a certain dignity—was quickly overwhelmed. One understands the impulse to retreat. The relentless pursuit of 'giddy moments,' as Mr. Rogers terms them, is exhausting. I prefer the consistent satisfaction of a flawlessly prepared surface. Carpenter Bowl, when freshly groomed, offers a respite. Silver Lake, if one navigates the lower reaches with precision, can still yield a moment of quiet contemplation. But Empire, predictably, is a maelstrom of…activity.
The analogy to sailing is apt, though perhaps overstated. The allure of a swift passage, the bracing wind, the illusion of control. These are fleeting pleasures. The real reward lies in mastering the fundamentals, in achieving a state of frictionless efficiency. The current conditions, however, demand a strategic approach. Avoid the lower slopes entirely.
Begin on Bald Mountain, immediately after first light. Take the Ontario run—a relatively narrow, often overlooked descent. It is, presently, the least compromised route. Proceed with deliberate, symmetrical turns. And, above all, maintain a respectful distance from the uninvited.