We call the signature our skis leave Laying Tracks.

Figuratively, you can lay tracks each and every day by putting all your effort behind something. Giving all your gusto. But’s it’s just figurative. If you’re picking up what I’m putting down?

Literally, you can only lay tracks on a few mediums. SNOW is the best of them. When you’ve just schussed your way down the hill, and you look over your shoulder, you can see exactly where you’ve been. It’s a whole different kind of gratification.

So, you want to lay some tracks? We’ll let us stoke your fire. Here’s to the first tracks of the Winter of 2011/12.

On my way around the corner towards the mountain I didn’t know if we’d be skiing foliage or snoliage. The hills answered my question for me.

Getting a little further up the hill I was questioning whether the Aspen’s would have any of their golden hued leaves left. Again, the hills answered my question resoundingly.  OUI.

We pulled into the parking lot at the Collins Lift at Alta. It looked like the world donut championships had taken place. There wasn’t a tire track that aimed in a consistent direction. Pretty quickly Peters claimed, “I got my first faceshot of the season before you did!” He wasn’t lying either… too bad his windshield got the majority of the goods.

Our crew was large today, as it normally is on the first day of the season. The enthusiasm was infectious and our skinning crew was singing almost entirely up the track. Perry led the way, as it was his 25th Birthday, followed by Peters, Kate, Stew, Altman, and myself.

Perry’s the kind of guy to grab life by the horns, and shake it. And he did just that, on his 25th Birthday, he said no to switchbacks and laid some uphill tracks.

We scooted our way up the hill and to the top of the Collins lift. Home of the best low snow skiing in the Wasatch. We found grass slopes covered in nearly 2 feet of snow. We couldn’t have asked for better on October 6th.

Perry pulled Heady Toppers from the Alchemist in Waterbury and we proceeded to have one the most glorious Birthday celebrations I’ve ever been to.

Well, enough celebration, lets get to the true gifts of this occasion. It wasn’t but three turns into the day that Perry gnabbed the first face shot of the season.

BEHOLD.

That kind of stoke isn’t without some celebration either. And, we got the biggest WOOO HOOO I’ve heard on the hill.

Peters came down the hill and he couldn’t quite get as deep as Perry. Though he tried.

As repentance Ben burled into the stopping zone and jetted off the opposite side, pulling out the first Cossack of the season. (Though his left hand is noticeably didn’t make it around.)

Kate busted down the hill next, and being the lightest of the group, just wasn’t getting as deep as she wanted. She pulled a radical early season manuever, and went for the ground mounted front flip! Low and behold, it worked.

A smile and two thumbs up were the only gesture apropos for this trip.

We headed off the hill with similar results, great snow and company. Celebrating a wonderful start to the 2011/12 season.

Cheers to laying your own tracks. Go get SUM.

This evening Andy Anderson and I took off from the valley to see what kind of trouble we could rustle up at Alta Ski Area.  It’s great to walk a ski area right before it’s getting ready to snow.  You can memorize where new dead-fall is and where rocks you’ve long since forgotten live.

We assumed the sunset watching position on everyone’s favorite perch mid-way up the Baldy Shoulder.

The sun was making itself sparse, and we took the surroundings in.

As we we’re watching the last vestiges of light, Andy decided to race the final rays up the side of the bomb house.

There is plenty of 10/11 snow sticking around.  And a dusting of 11/12 snow left from the weekend. New snow on top of old snow?!?!?! WINTER IS COMING.

We hustled our way down the mountain in search of tacos and beer, but not before catching a final glimpse of the waning light.

After 4th of July’s bikiniski, we took a few weeks of skiing off.  We headed into the hills on Dirt Bikes and explored every little corner of melted out Utah that we could find.

Dwyer’s been in China for almost a month. Upon his most glorious return we decided the only thing we could possibly do was – GO SKIING.  His friend Biscuit arrived in town for the occasion and we hit the road in search of Schuss.

The three of us packed up the Chicken Taco and headed towards skiing. However, we took our typical detour to the most delicious burrito stand to ever exist – MOLCA SALSA.

We ate some serious Breakfast Burritos in honor of K_C and then ate some serious pickled carrots in honor of G.

Detour complete we headed for the hills. Along the way, so stuffed to the gills, we contemplated skiing SUICIDE, but decided the uberhanging cornice was a little bit too scary for a Saturday.

We pulled into the Collins lot and knew it was going to be a good day.  This marks month 9 of top to bottom skiing at Alta!

Dwyer pulled his ski boots out of the truck, hoping their considerable smell  had diminished after a month of not sticking his feet in them. Judging by the crook in his neck they didn’t.

Oui motored up the Baldy shoulder and quickly found one of the nicest places in the Wasatch.

The son and pops posed for more pictures and so did the brothers.  After the glam shots, we figured we’d come for what we came for, so we might as well make haste and take the quick way down!

Little did I know, Dwyer’s pal, and my new friend Biscuit is mis-named, for even though there was not a single gate at the entire ski area, Biscuit turned into Slalom Guy the minute he started skiing.  A cross block here, a shinner there. He just couldn’t help himself!

Dwyer took a gander at Slalom Guy and immediately knew that he just couldn’t turn quite that tight!

And the thing about really tight turns is they make Dwyer giggle like a little girl.  Here I am standing behind the camera, looking at Dwyer through the lens, but all I can hear are what sound like the squeaks of a high school girl at her first Katy Perry concert.

Dwyer, disheartened by my loving jokes, said, “It starts out with some innocent giggling, but it ends for YOU with a splash of July POW.”

Dwyer laughed it up all the way down, following the white brick road.

I almost forgot about Slalom Guy, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he forgot how to Slalom turn!

Slalom guy threw that arm out front like he was trying to punch the loooong lens in the nose!  He came close too.

Never, not in an entire life time of summer skiing, have I seen a skier perform air-borne Slalom turns on light weight tourers with Fritschis.  But today I saw it with my own two eyes!  It was a sight every skier should see.

As Slalom Guy neared the end of the run, he accelerated, until he found the Finish Line and the winner’s corral.  He had his hands up, ready to party and receive July 16th’s Gold Medal for fastest Slalom Schuss of the Baldy Shoulder!

And with that, we schussed our way back to the valley, reading for more July, August, and September turns.  Just counting the days until the snow returns…90… 89… 88…

Click here or the picture for more details.

At least that’s what we thought.  40 inches of snow and 5 inches of water later, we’re neck deep in the quick snow. The kind of stuff, if you even think of breaking your stride, you’ll be stuck wallowing in it.

With that in mind, Dwyer and I set out. Hot and light, cold and heavy?!??!  Either way we kept the feet shuffling and the skis planed up.

Approaching the schussing it looked like we were preparing to destroy the ring in Mordor.

That wasn’t the case however.

D put it into overdrive and slogged his way above the clouds.

The higher up we got, the more the snow was turning into slush.  Good thing Dwyer brought his 11-12 BD waterskis.

Dwyer planed up and made a wake for the rest of us to follow.

Ain’t nothing going to break my stride

Nobody’s going to slow me down!  OH NO

I’ve got to keep on moving!

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JORTSKI BONUS MATERIAL:

Caution.  This isn’t for the faint of heart, or of schuss.  This is for died in the wool skiers, those who can see a lot of thigh, and not get that queezy feeling in the stomach.

Three really good looking gentlemen.  (Porter, Lionel, & Dwyer)

L_H getting the trim!

Jortski going full blast.

Ben putting the SKI into JORTSKI!

All JORTSKI POV footage courtesy of Perry Hall >>> ENJOI!

Also, in case you were wondering this post was powered by CABOT CHEESE.

Click the image, or CLICK HERE to read more.

Click the picture, or right HERE to read this amazing trip report.

We’d have never predicted it that’d we’d beat the sun to the top of the mountain side, but that’s just we did.  Simple as that.  Our skinning muscles must be getting to big for their own good.  We peeled our skins, set up camp, and started waiting for the sun to join us on the ridge.

The few extra minutes gave us time to luxuriate in the stiff north wind and watch the groomers finishing up their work on the LCC resorts.

Hidden Peak isn’t so hidden from this vantage point.

The ever present Pfeifferhorn is always one of the first to soak in the Eastern rays.

Oh hai, even Pink Pine isn’t pink yet, nor is Red or White pine.

I’ll tell you who likes to hog the sun, and it ain’t Dwyer.  Superior does.

Goddamn this is a fun thing to ski.

By this time, I had thoroughly frozen the boys fingers and toes, waiting for the sun to get done tagging the high peaks and start tagging the medium peaks.

Big D dropped in, and wanted to make damn sure that everyone knows, that all though his skinning muscles are bigger than average, his skiing muscles have been compared to Paul Bunyan’s lumberjacking muscles!

Like the mature adult he isn’t, Colby took second tracks, for he knows that the second skier always gets the sharper frame.

D proceeded to flash his Black Diamond (backcountry.com link, watch out you link clicking fools) logos as much as he possibly could.  This way and that.

Here, he tried to sneak the logo out, but the immature sastrugi would have none of it!

Colby got in one more frame, just chasing the sun down the hill.  He turned into a chameleon here and tried to ski in tree shape.

Thanks for reading FIS.  We’re all about earning our turns however we can.  We’ll fight clean, we’ll fight dirty, we’ll even snake your pow if you let us!  Get after it, a sunny weekend on tap for the West, and more pow for the East!

Sleuthing around the Wasatch, camera in hand, I found what I thought were frames of the masked powder pillager, yet when I returned home, I couldn’t tell for sure.  Here, see for yourself.

And again, I shot what I thought would amount to a crisp, clear sighting, and nothing.

I even snuck up behind him, but alas all I could see were his top sheets!

These time tested ski photography techniques were not working.  All of the sudden I knew what all the loonies (not Canadian dollar notes) felt like, they knew they’d seen UFOs, they just didn’t  have any proof!

So I resorted to a new technique.  A yodeled into the wild, thick Wasatch forest, and with my best yodeling voice I said, “Young Dwyer, come out of the woods and stop being a poward [powder coward].  Show yourself.”  And, I heard back, almost immediately, “Yee shall be rewarded with the gift of my powder presence on one condition – if and only if, you agree to buy me as many Chicken Wings as I can consumer at the Iron Blossom.”  Promptly, I agreed, for what else was I going to do, shoot artsy shadows all day?

One. Two. Buckaroo.  Dwyer put the Famous, into Famous Internet Skiers right from the start.

He kept on coming until it was almost certain he’d shellack the lens with snow.

A quick brotherly rendezvous occurred.  Dwyer repenting from his curmudgeoness, and myself welcoming him back into the fray.  He quickly set the agenda for the afternoon — proceeding to Dwyer’s private powder knob in the distance.

So this is where he’s been hiding.  He didn’t want me dilly dallying, nor taking pictures of the entrance to his hidden mountain.  I only scraped together one shot of the journey to this faceshot obtainer’s home.

The day was drawing to a close, and the sun was low on the horizon.  Just enough time for one lap through this heavenly place.  Dwyer figured if he was going to be on camera, he’d do it justice, damn it!  And so he did.

Dwyer find one last ribbon of light, and shredded the heck out of it.  Shredding lessons in.

3.

2.

1.

One last glimpse was caught on camera.  It’s been passed around a few of the quieter spots on the inter-webz, so if you’ve seen it, pardon me.  If you haven’t it’s been likened to Hermann Maier downhill fall in Nagano.

Except. Dwyer didn’t crash.  Reeled it right in and kept skiing, like the champion he is.  Here’s to verifiable, yet hard to find skiers who know how to get deep, and stay there!

If you haven’t caught up with what Greg and Ben are up to, check it out.  Earn your turns right along with them.  AND check out Allen and his Goats, and a spectacular shot of a stupendous sunset.