Fourth Stop: Sun Valley -- Our oldest resort, in more ways than one

Sun Valley Lodge, built 1936

Sun Valley, ID, the first destination winter resort in the U.S., is currently celebrating its 75th anniversary. They call coming to Sun Valley “The Tradition,” and the walls of the old but elegant Sun Valley Lodge (built, 1936) are checkered with old photos, Cary Hart and Grace Kelly lookalikes in early ski gear.

It was started as nothing more than an elaborate marketing ploy by W. Averell Harriman to increase ridership on the Union Pacific Railroad, of which he was chairman. Harriman was a lifelong skier and fond of similar resorts in Europe. He was also a good businessman -- the world’s first chairlifts were invented and installed at Sun Valley, to increase the popularity.

While the Sun Valley Lodge remains the best spot to stay overnight, a lot has changed -- Dollar Mountain, joined three years later by Bald Mountain, is now only the beginner’s locale and site of a new terrain park. Bald is where the serious skiing is. Sun Valley has 2,000 skiable acres, 3,400 vertical feet.

Among the first impressions of the mountain is its deceiving map. There are no double-black diamond trails anywhere, which we found from trial and error was more a reflection of a decision not to have double-blacks than a reflection of the mountain’s high degree of difficulty. Many of the blues at Sun Valley would be blacks at other resorts in the west, and several of the blacks would be doubles elsewhere.

From the first lift, one other terrain observation leaps out at the rider: there are mogulfields everywhere. Everywhere. They’re accompanied more often than not by steep, long groomers. Looking all over the mountain, if the trail is not groomed, it’s likely a mogulfield. After three days of skiing, one had to search hard for trails that were neither moguls nor groomed trails. If you like the bumps or steep, long groomers, Sun Valley is the place for you. Sun Valley is a fairly versatile mountain, too, with several bowls off the peak (9,200 feet).

The most unique characteristic from our visit, though, was the clientele. On the ride into town, a local noted that when it’s sunny, there are plenty of people on the mountain (still no lift line waits, in a happy continuation of the theme of this entire trip). But when the powder comes, with accompanying clouds, the people tend to head home.

Our first day put this to the test. It was beautiful all morning.

They call it Sun Valley for a reason

But the snow and clouds arrived around lunchtime. Most other mountains would see an influx of traffic with new powder; Sun Valley was the opposite. We were skiing down a bowl around 1:30pm in inches of fresh snow, when we looked around and realized something stunning: completely, entirely alone. No one in the bowl, not even on the lift.

Bowl is empty, lift is empty

It wasn’t cold, wasn’t windy, and there was fresh snow everywhere. But no one was around to ski it. Sun Valley is the bizarro resort.

That’s just another reason to enjoy Sun Valley, though probably not one that will end up in their 75th Anniversary brochure. Different theories for the strange behavior abound. Sun Valley’s visitors seem at first glance to be much older than those typical at other mountains (perhaps this explains the excess of top-to-bottom groomers on the mountain). There are very few snowboarders, and Sun Valley is not an easy resort to access. All of this, the argument goes, leads to a more seasoned group of skiers.

Sun Valley’s town gets high marks all around. Free buses take visitors to and from all necessary points (lodges, mountains, restaurants, shops) at all hours.

The restaurants excel in both quality and variety. If you crave good western steak, fresh Idaho trout, or some sushi, you will find an outlet for your hankering. We had the special at the legendary Pioneer (ask for the Wolferita) one night. The next dinner was at Grumpy’s, a literal shack on the outskirts of town that serves up greasily glorious burgers alongside 32-oz. beers. The prices for all are reasonable.

And the people -- continuing another pleasant theme of our trek -- are incredibly decent. Tom, the bartender at the Pioneer, took great pains to learn the names of each patron, shake his/her hand upon entry and exit, and generally make everyone feel quite at home -- even if 2,000 miles from familiarity.

All in all, Sun Valley is classic. Steeped in the tradition it brags of, this Idaho town nestled just west of Mormon Country (the drive through Eastern Idaho reveals more LDS churches than gas stations at times) can be a spectacular vacation destination. Just make sure you know what you’re getting into.

Sunrise over Ennis, MT, just west of the Idaho border

Reviews:

Terrain/runs: 7.5. If you like moguls and long groomers, this is for you. If you prefer cutting through powder, SV may not be the place.

Bowls: 8.5 – also not as many as Vail, but there is great variety for most high skill levels.

Lifts/lines: 9.5 – No lines, still. Docked a half-point for often needing multiple lifts to reach peak.

Food/beer: 8.5 – Excellent variety at a good price.

$$ value: 7 – Look for a ski/stay deal, otherwise it gets pricey. Resort is also not easy to get to (tiny airport often shuts down with a little snow).

People: 10.

Town: 9 – Free buses make getting around easy.

Overall: 8.5 – If it has what you're looking for, you can't go wrong.

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Third Stop: Big Sky, MT -- The biggest may be the best

“The best part about skiing is that the worst part about skiing is still better than anything else.”
        -My dear friend, on a lift at Big Sky, suffering from three days of punished shins and sore feet.

Big Sky brags of having The Biggest Skiing in America. So much so that they trademarked the phrase. As the locals tell it, “Out here, we like our elbow room.” They’ll tell anyone willing to listen – while somehow retaining the modesty and politeness of every Montanan – that their ski resort is the best around, it’s just that most folks don’t know about it.

They did not disappoint.

Big Sky emerges from the banks of the Gallatin River, which you follow for almost the entire drive from nearby Bozeman (45 miles). It is huge, though only when you count Moonlight Basin, it’s sister resort for which you need to pay more to ski, does it surpass Vail in skiable acres.

But no more nitpicking. The skiing is spectacular. The terrain is variable enough to satisfy anyone. And there is plenty of elbow room. During a three-day weekend (one sunny, one powdery, and one both), we only had to wait more than 30 seconds for a lift once – and that was for the tram that takes you to Lone Peak, the ominous spot at the height of Big Sky.

Lone Peak

When first laying eyes on Lone Peak, from one of the other lifts, it doesn’t even appear to be part of the same mountain (a testimony to the breadth of Big Sky). It also appears so daunting from afar that we joked, while on the lift, that we should ski it – not knowing that was possible.

Our host responded quite seriously that, in fact, we would.

Anticipating the ride

Later that morning, sun shining, we were on our way up. The tram ride is intimidating. You head up the front face of the mountain, such imposing terrain that skiers apparently need special permission to head down it. Once at the top, though, the 360° views were breathtaking. From Lone Peak, 11,000-feet up, you can see all the terrain the region has to offer – mountains, cliffs, lakes, to name a few.

Back to the skiing…heading down from Lone Peak was challenging, but the most difficult hurdle is its intimidation. If that run weren’t after a foreboding tram ride and high above all else, it wouldn’t seem nearly as difficult. Look downhill, forget about the altitude, and it’s just another tough run.

Skiing Lone Peak

The Biggest Skiing in America also offers impressive variety. Powdery bowls abound at lower elevations, too, as do a fair amount of glade runs (though not quite as many as Breckenridge) and lots of groomed trails for the more relaxed alpiner.

[One of the lower bowls caused the faceplant of the trip. One of our group lost his footing in the powder, somersaulted four times, and ended up a good 25 yards below his skis. The fall was so spectacular that the lift, a full 300 yards away, erupted in applause. A ski instructor even slid by to give the spill a 9.8 out of 10, the remaining .2 “only because there was no high-pitched scream.”]

The best recommendation I can make is to ski the mountain with a local. We had a couple friendly people guide us around the mountain; what a difference it makes. Rather than grasping for the best run all morning, someone familiar with the mountain can lead you straight to the gold (or diamond, as it were).

Which brings up the final, and most lasting, impression from Big Sky. Big Sky’s greatest asset isn’t it’s views, or the small-but-lively slopeside town. The most distinguishing characteristic is the quality of people that live and work there. Having such a universally pleasant population may not be too special, but acting as such while dealing all year with less-pleasant tourists is as impressive as the natural wonders that surround them.

Of course, if the rest of us got to spend our winters skiing this mountain and our summers rafting the river that leads to it, we’d probably be a lot more pleasant, too.

Reviews (updated for the other mountains as the tour progresses):

Terrain/runs: 9. There is something for everyone, and you never have to fight others to get where you’re going.

Bowls: 8 – not as many as Vail, and not the variety for less-than-experts. But if you can hack it, the snow is awesome.

Lifts/lines: 10 – Liking their elbow room pays off with no waits.

Food/beer: 7.5 – If you’re only there for a few days, the variety and quality are good. If you’re there for longer, the options run thin.

$$ value:

People: 10 – a scale from one to ten fails to capture the pleasure.

Town: 7 – small and very accessible, plenty available in/around the mall for a quick trip.

Overall: 9.5 – There is not much more you can ask for out of a ski town. One of the best mountains in America, without a doubt.

**Bonus Review – Bozeman, MT**

It’s the closest big town, and the place you almost certainly have to go through en route to Big Sky. If you can, take a day and spend it there. It’s a college town (Montana State University) with plenty to do.

There are bars to frequent (we sample several), shops to buy boots that help you fit in on your trip out West, and they even have a respectable nearby ski area, Bridger.

You never know what you’ll see – you may see a hunter pull up with his latest catch, a mountain lion, sitting on top of the box holding the hunting dogs that trapped it. [We learned that moutain lions, while exceedingly rare, are easy to kill if you have dogs. They are petrified of the canines, head up into a tree, and are then easy targets]

Notice the "WE BITE" warning

The people are just as pleasant as in Big Sky. If you have the chance, take a day and enjoy Bozeman.

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Day Two -- Vail, CO

Switching Gears

We woke up with a decision to make: with the weather forecasted to be identical (sunny and warm but windy) do we take another run at Breck, or head 40 minutes west to Vail? A sore back and thumb, bent pole, and general soreness were all the signs I needed. Vail it was.

Quick stop at Ty’s ski shop to grab a pair of bigger, broader skis to demo -- 20 cms longer than mine and wider, too, would help float on the powder more -- and then off to Vail. Free (but limited) parking is available at the nordic club, where you can then hop a brief bus ride to main base.

At 9:30am, it was already 30 degrees and there was not a could in the sky. I repeated my plea from the day before: new pair of skis, let’s take a couple runs to get comfortable. It rang just as hollow as the day before. We bombed down a groomed black-diamond, though keeping up wasn’t difficult.

[The new skis -- Rossignol S3’s -- were as good as advertised. Long and broad, they ski much shorter than they are. The edges catch a little differently, but the length makes for great speed and the width and bounce enable the skis to float easily over powder and unexpected humps. Highly recommended, especially for western skiing.]

The next stop was the back side of the mountain, all bowls, and we never left. There was never any way we could hit all parts of the mountain in one day. If Breckenridge’s claim to fame is its vertical, Vail’s is it’s breadth. It is monstrous. It has nearly 5,000 acres of terrain, more than twice that of Breck.

Many of the bowls face south and thus were pounded by the sun all day. Shells were off by the 3rd run of the day; by the end we were without jackets, too.

To take advantage of the sun, the north- and east-facing bowls were first, starting at Sun Down, then: Sun Up, Tea Cup, China, Siberia, and ultimately Blue Sky Basin (Pete’s Bowl and Earl’s Bowl) around lunchtime. We skied all seven before lunch.

[The views were incredible everywhere on the back bowls. They are techincally below the tree line, but because of an epidemic many years ago, the trees are few and far between. On a sunny day you can far across the Rockies. If the powder doesn’t get you out here, the views will.]

By the time we returned to the west-facing bowls, the sun had softened up the snow so it was as if we were riding on fresh powder. The last several runs of the day were nearly perfect. Wide, long, and sun-drenched

Knowing that the day had to end on the front-side, once the bowl lifts closed we took the longest run on the mountain to the bottom. Riva’s Ridge is 4 miles, but all blue and black, so it goes pretty quickly.

We skied 23,000 vertical feet (Jake’s biggest day of the year). Add that to yesterday’s total and we did over 41,000 feet in two days of perfect weather in CO.

On to Big Sky.

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Vail Review
Mountain terrain: 8.5 -- big, open, and terrain for every skier/boarder
Lifts/lines: 9 -- so much area that there are few lines
Town: N/A -- didn't spend any time there.

Day One -- Breckenridge, CO

No Such Thing as a Slow Start


Here we are. First day, first stop on the 3-week spring ski tour that will include Colorado, Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Utah, and California. Jake and I woke up in Boulder around 5:30am, to get everything ready and be on the slopes at Breckenridge as early as possible. The views -- first of the Flatirons in Boulder, then of the Rockies -- were spectacular as always. We arrived in Breckenridge without traffic, but after that the day had an inauspicious start.


First, we realized Jake forgot his boots, so we had to stop at his brother Ty’s ski shop to get a pair. We picked up Ty and, upon hearing a sound uncannily like the back-door closing (with Ty presumably inside), Jake started to pull away. Only after we heard Ty’s screaming did we realize he was only half in the car -- and that Jake had run over his foot.


Heading up the first lift, I look to my right and see the wheels turning in Jake’s head. He’s snowboarded more than 20 days already this year and clearly is looking forward to relishing a day off of work and his first bluebird (abundant sunshine) day of the season. To my left I see Ty, 70 days under his belt already, and realize I’d better waive the caution flag.


“Guys, it’s my first day out, and keep in mind I was at sea level yesterday,” as the lift passes 11,000 feet in altitude (Breck tops out around 13,000 feet).


“OK, we’ll start slow,” they both say before mumbling something about hitting the bowls before lunchtime.
Off the lift we go and, before I can get my bearings, we’re barreling down black diamonds. On the second run of the day, Ty leads us off to the edge of one run, bends under the rope and sign saying Ski Boundary -- do not cross, and turns to make sure I’m following him. We ski through some thick, untouched, and truly awesome glades (see picture of Ty putting his entire pole, and arm, into the snow without touching the ground) before emerging in an open area. 

This is followed by a 10-minute hike/traverse to get higher above the fresh powder.

So, to recap our “slow” start: two black diamonds, breaking the boundary into 8-foot powder glades, and now pulling our way up at 11,000 feet -- 18 hours after I left sea level. Needless to say, I was winded and needed a break.

But then came the payoff, and what a reward it was.

We then scooted over to Peak 8, the highest at Breck, to hit the bowls. On the lift up, Ty was telling us about his friend who once started off these bowls by doing a double-front flip, on his skis, off of the cornice (ledge) at the top. On purpose. We get to 13,000 feet, make a right turn, and head for Whale’s Tail Bowl. Ty stops at the edge of the foreboding, 8-footish cornice and says, “It’s a little easier if you head down there,” pointing to his left.


“Where can I get down without heading over the cornice?” I asked.


“You can’t.”


Our “slow” start continues. I bite my lip, yelp a bit, and survive. The run down is a reminder of why people come out west: soft snow, wide birth, and long runs. It felt like we were the only people on the run

Some more skiing, then lunch, and the real fun started. We went to return to the bowls on Peak 8 but the wind had starting whipping so much that they closed the two highest lifts. Oh well, we’ll head for the other peaks. Closed, too. Eventually we realized that practically every lift above the tree line was shut down*.


Jake suggests taking one of the remaining lifts and hiking up to his favorite runs, Twin Chutes, high above Peak 9. By this time we’ve met up with Ty’s friend, the double-front-flipper. As we get off the lift, he looks at us and says, “You guys hike if you want. I’m telling you the wind is gonna be terrible up there, I’m not going.”


Crazy enough to try a double-front-flip off a cliff at the top of a bowl at 13,000 feet, but he didn’t want to do this hike. I thought it was a good sign that this was a bad idea, but I let ego get the better of me and went along. And then the fun started.


The higher we got, the stronger the wind pushed against us. Gusts were above 60mph. We took several rests. More than once during the 40-minute hike we almost quit. Ty said his skis felt like they weighed 200 lbs. on his shoulder. Jake held his board in front of his face to block the wind, to no avail. All I could muster were the words, “Yesterday I was at sea level. Now we’re hiking into gale-force winds at 12,000 feet.” This picture says it all:

We kept our heads down and eventually made it to the top of the run. The first quarter-mile or so was great; the wind and isolation made the snow several feet deep and untouched. The snow was worth the hike, at first.


Then it all went downhill.


First, I stumbled going down one portion and, upon continuing, wondered why my left ski wouldn’t stay above the powder. Looking down I realized it was because the ski was no longer attached -- it was 20 feet up the hill.


What a disaster. I tried hopping up with the ski on my right foot, thinking it would help me stay on top of the snow. No such luck. Then I kicked off the ski, but could walk up because I’d end up hip-deep in powder. Finally, an ungraceful combination of leaning across the snow, pulling my poles at an angle, and slowly crawling back to my ski -- this after 40 minutes of hiking. Eventually I continued down that section. The whole episode took a good 10 minutes. Jake and Ty watched from the bottom of the hill, presumably amused.


We get into the most challenging glades I’ve ever been in, called Windows. It was steep, slick, and with five-to-eight-foot holes all over the place. Before I knew it, I lost an edge flipped forward, head over heels, landing on my back side in one of said holes. My right arm was soaked -- I was in an exposed spring. After a few futile calls to my partners, I wedged one pole across the edge of the hole and pulled myself, as if doing a chin-up. Re-attached my skis, met up with my resting friends, and explained my latest brush with disaster.


The rest of the run through Windows was relatively uneventful, save for one last trip for good measure after a monstrous bump that Jake, perhaps out of pity, warned me about (note: not so much pity, though, that there was a route to avoid said bump).


That hike and subsequent run consumed almost two hours, all of our energy, and most of my confidence. At some point during the run I’d also managed to mangle one of my poles.

The day concluded with a few more conventional runs, no notable occurrences, and us quickly heading to the nearest local establishment for much-needed calories.


It was an epic day: we skied 18,500 vertical feet (according to a chip in Jake’s season pass); hit every peak at the resort, and were now armed with our best ski/hike story ever. At one point during dinner, Ty looked over and said, “I’m totally beat, I can’t imagine how you feel on your first day.”


“What would have happened if I hadn’t asked you to take it easy,” I responded. They just laughed. Joke’s on the new guy, I guess.


Breck had chewed me up and spit me out -- with a bent pole and sore back by which to remember it. Can’t ask for a better start to a ski trip than that.


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[Each stop on the tour will be reviewed, with several topics on a scale of 1 to 10]
Breckenridge Review
Mountain terrain: 8
Lifts/lines: 6 -- the wind took out half the lifts on the mountain for the entire afternoon. In this sense, Breck's height works against it.
Town: 9 -- think Aspen, but much less expensive.


Stats
Base Elevation: 9,600 feet / 2,926 meters
Summit Elevation: 12,998 feet / 3,963 meters
Vertical Rise: 3,398 feet / 1,036 meters


*Ty said it was the windiest day he’d seen in his three years at Breck. Upon returning to the shop after skiing, one of the owners walked out, looked up at the peaks, and simply said “wow.” Suffice it to say, it was windy.