99 percent stoked

 (Editor's note: this is the latest installment of my Excursions column, written for the Jackson Hole News&Guide)
 
Face shots or core shots? That was the question running through my head as I unearthed skis and skins, beacon and boots, and probe and shovel.
It was 10 p.m. at night and I was trying to decide if the idea of skiing the pass after this year’s first snowfall was just plain ridiculous, or ridiculously wonderful.
Always the optimist, and one who never says no to a good adventure, I decided to run with the latter.
Plus, I’d already told my friend Martha Williamson that I would meet her at 6:30 a.m. for a pre-work dawn patrol, so I was what one might call committed.
I found fresh triple-A batteries in the bottom of my gear bin, loaded them into my beacon, flipped it on and felt a surge of excitement as the screen displayed 99 percent — like my beacon batteries I was 99 percent stoked to start a new ski season.
Miraculously, from ski fever, I woke up the next morning 10 minutes before my alarm went off at 6 a.m., and practically jumped out of bed.
Zippy, my pup, and I rendezvoused with Martha. In my 15-year-old sturdy, sometimes surly Subaru, we chugged up Teton Pass, headed for Edelweiss bowl on the south side of the pass.
To our surprise, we found a jam packed parking lot at the top of the pass, and just barely managed to squeeze in. As we got ourselves ready — taking longer than normal, rusty from the summer months — Zippy wriggled with excitement.
“C’mon guys, what’s taking you so long, don’t you know it’s ski season again ...” he urged with every inch of his body, nose to tail.
Finally, we were off, skinning for a short distance, before making the first drop of the season — over a patch of grass into an oh-so-buttery glade. Knee-deep powder made for hero turns.
As I floated on the delightfully soft snow, dropping my knees into tele turns, every inch of my body said, “hell yeah, this is what life is all about.”
Martha put that feeling into words, when on the next skin up, to the top of Edelweiss, she said, “Work is always better after a morning of skiing.”
Dense fog and crystal clear sunshine danced with each other on top of Edelweiss. Zippy floundered in the deep powder, gaining little traction in his lanky legs, but nonetheless grinning floppy ear to floppy ear. Martha and I spied our lines, and one at a time, jumped into the bowl below, literally shouting for joy at the apex of each turn.
We took a bet and won — we got a few face shots and not a single core shot, or for that matter even scratch to the bases of our skis.
Down the gut of Edelweiss, we cruised, our legs amazingly strong despite the summer ski lull.
We almost got away with a remarkably fall-less, flawless first day on skis ...
But while setting a skin track back to the parking lot, my skins totally detached from my skis. Snow had gummed onto the bottom of them, rendering what little stickiness they had left useless.
I tried twice to reattach my skins to my skis, with the idea of proceeding gingerly, before I conceded to boot packing.
Thankfully, we only had a couple hundred feet more to climb ... because boot packing in fresh powder ain’t no easy task. I was panting as loud as Zippy by the time we topped out on an established trail that would take us back to the parking lot.
(Note to self: reapply glue to skins before next outing.)
By 10 a.m. we were back at my car, delighted by our morning.
Not bad for a first day, and not bad for October, we thought in chorus.
A few words of wisdom: while Martha and I avoided core shots, the early season snowpack is extremely variable. Hidden rocks, logs and other obstacles abound, so proceed carefully. Also, backcountry skiing has many hazards, most significantly the hazard of avalanches. If you ride the pass, make sure to take with you the proper equipment and know-how.