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Livin' the Dream
• Two Resorts, One Epic Day!
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By
Alex West
Sunday,
December 11, 2011
As your boots clomp from heated concrete to squeaky snow you realize that this storm blew in colder than everyone thought. It’s 8:30 a.m. but the KT line isn’t too bad. Maybe that’s because it’s a Thursday. In April. And I-80 was shut down for the last two days due to storm mayhem. While clicking in you don’t even spill a drop of your favorite morning brew. A cute snowboard chick remarks to her boyfriend how cool your ski pants are. Maybe this is because you’re a rockstar and you own this place. Perhaps it’s karmic payback for digging a Ford Taurus out of some snowbank last week. Or maybe the stars are lined up because this is your Dream Pow Day at the newly formed Squaw & Alpine megaresort.
While others chat and secretly wonder where they’re going to head after touching down from the Mothership, you stand silent. The entire morning is planned out in your head and the afternoon will take care of itself. Looking down at those boards, the perfect ones for a day like this, another pair of skis clanks into the scene. You recognize the beaten-down topsheets for your best ski buddy. He has two PB&J moonpies in his pocket. He’s a sick, and quick photographer. He has a patrol radio in his pocket. And feel that on your face - the sun’s just peeking up from Red Dog Ridge.
Getting off KT the masses head right for a race to Headwall. You and your buddy, let’s call him McShmidty, go left. Coasting the cat track you hug the left shoulder then do about 30 seconds of sidestepping. Heart beating through your chest, you’re a dirty old man drooling at virgin pow. Preparing to lay eggs down Eagle’s Nest there’s just one word for the feeling – giddy. Up goes your courage and down go those skis. Snow as dry as Utah’s finest (almost) but ‘only’ knee deep with some spackle underneath makes this that classic California speed treat. You make it down both pitches, legs burning, and the liftie is shovel-smacking the final snow-riddled Olympic Lady seat. While on this short, sweet ride you watch someone ski McConkey’s from the top. On a pair of Spatulas.
You exit left again, skate for speed, see Tahoe rise from the cornice edge, and throw a huge chopper. Landing smooth like a bunny you head straight for the Four Trees about four hundred yards down. McSchmidty biffed the landing of his Corked-out Donkypunch Roll (he’s a little younger than you) but he kept things together and is straightlining in an attempt to beat you to that stand of massive ponderosa. Air between every high-speed turn, you’re above the snow as much as in it. Through the trees, a quick glance up into the canopy like a surfer looking backwards on a wave, and you bank hard left to hit a sublime steep spot. One more idiot stash off Champs Elysees and it’s down Extrabitchin’ and straight to Squaw One.
The patrol radio in McShmidty’s pocket starts barking: “Palisades will be cleared in 15 minutes.” You see an enormous KT line then watch some Fingers exploration and frequent flier miles racking up. It’s always the best kind of circus on the Powderhorn. Squaw One puts you on Siberia then you two march by patrol as the hiking sign rotates from red to the prettiest of blues. On top, you wimp out of the line you thought you’d try – even dream days get dented at this challenging place – but you get the pistons pumping on something else. Pick your favorite groomer option down Siber, schralp the Team Leaisure Chutes with the exposed stream below, and pull up to Cornice II. Some townie buddies call out that CII is played (it’s 10:30) but your few seconds in line sure seems a lot nicer than 20 minutes hanging with the in-crowd at Headwall. Plus you’re headed over to Alpine.
Hopping off at the top, you bag the typical Sun Bowl traverse and head to one of the best intermediate stashes on the upper mountain – Rusty’s Lunch (not telling…). Ski past the old boundary line and tuck to make the lower bullwheel of the new interconnect. A shiny new ride with two logos on it takes you to a mystical place on Alpine Meadow’s “East Shore.” Milling about are loud-colored groups in uni-bags who bark auf Deutsche for directions from unsuspecting telemarkers and tea drinkers. Quite a European feel for being right here in ole Placer County.
You seek out a cliff band in the middle of Beaver Bowl. The rollover is deceptive but you commit and aim for the big tree below, like a palm in the Waimea lineup. Next thing you know it’s the base lodge deck with familiar bluegrass and 20-ouncers.
Summit has been spinning for a couple hours so much of Alpine is tracked. Regardless, Summit is the call. You and McSchmidty skate then hike to the top of Keyhole, a classic peppery steep section. Instead of pointing ‘em toward the lodge you head off the back and ride incredible untracked natural halfpipes that put you back into Sherwood. As one of the prettiest locales in the Basin, you are happy to be here, but amazing to think how far you are from the next goal: Squaw’s Silverado. Don’t fear – the re-interconnect is spinning so ride it out of Alpine and then groomer your way back to the Village.
Back at Squaw, it’s late afternoon and that one full swath of schralpation that hasn’t yet seen tracks is beckoning. The beauty of Silvy is that it’s seemingly the hardest-to-reach spot on the whole hill but it’s actually the easiest. Pick your poison in the Village – a quick beer, a cup of joe, maybe a divot of wheatgrass – then rub elbows with postcard holders on the Cable Car. On a Silvy morning opening, the Cable Car exit strategy is one thing entirely. Today, McSchmidty’s patrol radio gives you the edge. You slap your boards down, click in and beeline to…Belmont. A quick lap through these jumps with the under-10 fellas always gets the nostalgia-smile going. Then take the Links crawl, and pass Silvy’s terminus where a few lifties are laughing. Why not just wait at High Camp for the rope to drop? There’s just something nice about waiting at Gate 3. It’s got a backcountry feel, a nice view, and therefore an even better vibe.
The patroller, a happy person whose entire day has consisted of three laps of untracked Silvy, happily drops the rope when the radio squawks. Laughing, you follow McSchmidty down the rollover, into the trees below, and shoot across the hanging meadow above skier’s left, and find the spot. Rock perch. Stop. Pant. Listen. Go. Paste a turn on the quarterpipe. Drop the rollover, and the next one. Stop. Pant. Laugh. Listen. Go. Steep drops then the groomer out. As you load Silvy, it’s 3 p.m.
Riding up you realize Squaw did the incredible, again, and you are on the early end of three heli-skiing-quality runs at your favorite resorts. Wait, make that resort.
Alex West has been a freelance writer and photographer in Tahoe since the '90's. He keeps the heat on by selling real estate full-time. See more of his writing at thebigbluelake.com.
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