dawn patrol is a good thing

A very long time ago, I attended the graduation from BYU of my brother. Actually, I’m guessing it was my brother. I guess I have no idea who was graduating, but really, why else would I pack myself into the Provo Tabernacle for 2 hours in August if it wasn’t my brother, me, or Kim?

Anyway, I remember (and I really don’t know WHY I remember this–my head is like an ill-kept closet, full of flotsam and jetsam, almost none of it useful) that during this graduation ceremony, one of the faculty members, a very large balding man, robustly sang an a cappella version of some song that must have been titled “I Love Life.” I’m guessing that’s the title, because that’s all I can remember about the song, that he sang that over and over again.

However comical that seemed at the time, and continues to seem in my memory, I was singing it in my head this morning. Rick and I got up at 5am, met at Little Cottonwood Canyon at 5:30, and were hiking from the White Pine trailhead with headlamps by 6:00, straight up the gut of Scottie’s Bowl. Rick set a pace that made me consider Bill Murray’s trick for messing with Judge Smails’ backswing.

Anyway. 18 inches of fresh. April 8th. About 2500 feet of north facing vertical, beginning with a steep tight chute at the top. The new snow was sluffing freely, and the first 500 feet or so were more like surfing than skiing. Rick and I both got knocked off our feet by the deep, fast moving sluffs. He simply disappeared for a second. I, on the other hand, encountered a tree when the sluff broke. No harm done.

We were back to the car by 8:00, to work before 9:00.

I. Love. Life.

There, I said it.

We met up with Dustin Butcher of Voile, the splitboard company, at the parking lot, and decided to hike together. Dustin had a camera. We’re going to ask Dustin to come next time too.

Photos:

This is me, hoping to catch Rick and then kill him.

Rick, almost at the top, taking it easy.

Rick went first, and the snow was good. Very good.

But the sluff was bigger.

You can just see my ski sticking out from the tree. The sluff is long gone.

But it’s all good.

Fighting a new sluff to get to the ridge.

To infinity and beyond:

Advertisements