Bliss

The start to all good adventures.

The start to all good adventures.

I had about 12 hours between getting back from a full work week in Thompson Falls and getting into a car full of friends headed to the southern Bitterroot for a weekend of yurt skiing. It was my favorite kind of transition. More on Thompson Falls later, it’s about skiing now:

Bad habits from telemark skiing carry over. I'm still a back seat driver.

This weekend did not suck (Photo: Evan Smith)

Simon had texted me: “can you get next Friday off?” Knowing Simon, my reply was simple: “Whatever it is, count me in.” He had booked two nights at the State Line Yurt tucked just a mile or so behind our favorite ski resort, and had backcountry turns on his brain. Mel and Simon are an amazing adventure duo, and their friend Evan is a hard charging Jackson native. With a yurt and good snow, the stage was set. I felt damn lucky to be included.

The fun begins. I love the looks we get in a resort with big packs on.

The fun begins. I love the looks we get in a resort with big packs on.

The State Line Yurt is a revival of an old thing, and I had never had the pleasure of yurt supported skiing. After more than a few freezing nights in a tent, I can’t complain. A potbelly wood stove, ample mattresses, and a stellar kitchen setup made the living pretty plush.

New use for the crampon pocket.

New use for the Cilogear crampon pocket.

While we had packed a few party supplies, it was more fun to realize that my companions and I were all on the same page- we just wanted to tour. We skied hard all day, ate well, and slept immediately. We might be the first skiers in the history of yurting to carry beer back out with us. The touring was just too fun to miss.

Evan gets some.

Evan gets some.

We found quick turns on Friday afternoon just over the ridge and out of earshot from the resort. The north facing powder was deep and dry. Our excitement skyrocketed. None of us had really expected decent snow- friends and solitude were enough. With a little looking though, the mountains had treasure waiting for us.

The best of Saturday mornings.

The best of Saturday mornings.

Saturday we all agreed was for a longer tour, someplace we would never go without the yurt location. We headed south to Pt Hughes, and after some navigational arguments, found a spectacular burn with decent steeps. The views south into Idaho beckoned us on like sirens, but the snow held our attention and the turns were not to be missed.

If you don't GoPro, don't go... (or something). Photo: Evan Smith

If you don’t GoPro, don’t go… (or something). Photo: Evan Smith

We got back to the yurt just in time for a perfect sunset, and another epic meal. Mel and Simon prepped the whole trip at Costco, keeping things cheap, efficient, and tasty. Despite all the touring, I’m not sure I lost weight on this one.

Eager.

Eager.

Somewhere in the course of skinning I remarked to my companions “I’ve hit a state beyond excitement, and I can only describe it as bliss.” It makes sense to me that the silent physical work of skinning, followed by the pure rush of downhill powder turns adds up to a singular, superlative experience.

The best kind of tired.

The best kind of tired. (Photo: Evan Smith)

Sunday we skinned over to Saddle Mountain for incredible looks north at the Bitterroot valley, and hopefully more great snow. The views delivered, but the snow didn’t. It doesn’t have to be perfect to be perfect. Clouds rolled in, adding texture to the sky and snow to the Pintlers- topping our together felt like the perfect end to the trip. We got a few great turns on some south facing corn as we headed back to pack up, and caught the tow rope in the resort before it closed.

Snow not required for fun. (Photo: Evan Smith)

Snow not required for fun. (Photo: Evan Smith)

I’m gonna say it to set the bar (and cause it was true): I think this was the most fun I’ve ever had on skis. I cant wait to see what’s next.

One thought on “Bliss

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