written by: Matthew D. LaPlante
Our final morning began with a snow-spoiled lamentation: It had been 36 hours since the last gift from above. “Maybe,” I asked Eagle Point regular Tracy McMullin, “if we promise not to tell anyone else, could you take us to your secret stashes?”
“You don’t need that,” she laughed. “You can go to the main runs today and still find plenty of powder.”
By way of proof, she led us to Donner’s Descent. Sure enough, we were in dreamland. A day and a half after the last storm subsided, we were carving uncrossed lines down long stretches of a wide open main run.
[vc_media_grid grid_id=”vc_gid:1513367839924-7462910d-5622-9″ include=”22286,22285,22288″]
Thirteen resorts into our adventure, one thing had become very clear: No Utah ski area is like any other. But one resort is distinctly different from all the others. Far-south Brian Head, where we completed our journey, is a resort that feels like a perpetual party and a true escape from reality.
With most of the beginner and intermediate terrain coming off Navajo Mountain and packed into the center of Brian Head Mountain, it wasn’t hard to find a line to tuck into, without fear of plowing over a little grommet. Skier’s right, and then right some more, off Roulette lift, we found the aptly-named Wild Ride, and we might as well have been on the moon, for there was no one in sight and plenty of tracks left to be forged in two-day-later snow.
And, with that, it was time to celebrate.
The beer at the Last Chair Saloon, packed with fellow revelers, flowed like snow from the Utah heavens. And the lit slopes, under dark mountain skies, beckoned for a few more runs. And more drinks awaited us at the Grand Lodge, where just about every Brian staffer seemed to head after work. And over whiskey and cigars, and standing beside the fires, we began to tell the stories we’ll tell again and again when we are old.
Our buckets were full.
See more inside our 2018 Jan/Feb Issue.