Tabla de contenidos para January 2019 en Powder

THE 40-FOOT SAILBOAT rocked gently back and forth on the ink-black waters off Vancouver Island, British Columbia. It was the last night of a 10-day trip up the remote Bute Inlet, where a crew of skiers and I had been using the boat as a base camp to access some very steep and inhospitable mountains. While the adventure level had been off the charts, the snow on the peaks had been ravaged by wind and freezing temperatures, resulting in some difficult skiing conditions. After sharing the close confines of the boat’s cabin for so many days and nights, it’s safe to say the five of us were sufficiently crispy. Yes, we were ready to go home. That night, we rolled out our sleeping bags on the boat deck to take…

When I arrived in Lake Tahoe five years ago at age 30, I was seeking something…dare I say…professional? I lucked out with a job at Truckee’s indefatigable monthly newspaper, Moonshine Ink, where I wrote about powder pursuits and local issues. I was pleasantly surprised by how many locals looked to us for news. Nevertheless, an omnipresent struggle presented itself on how to relay to the public—especially the younger audience—the evergreen value of a newspaper against the quick-hit appeal of updates on a smartphone. Plus, the revenue challenges outside of that are enough to grind down even the sturdiest publication. How to keep ad money rolling with Craigslist, Facebook, and Google? How to stay timely for a monthly publication when the internet updates itself every few seconds? I don’t know if…

WE MET IN A SAFEWAY PARKING LOT in Anacortes, Washington. I was a recent college graduate—homeless, transitory, ready to explore the West, and in need of some wheels. She was a middle-aged emerald-green beauty with a moonroof. It was the Fourth of July. I named her Lola America. I wasn’t sure I could actually afford the monthly payments, and I didn’t know where I was going to be in a matter of months. But at that moment in time, behind the wheel of my first car—a healthy Subaru with all-wheel drive—I thought anything was possible. It felt that way for a while. Our first winter together we lived at Alta, Utah. Lola got buried by all 800 inches of snow that fell that season. Over time, we storm-chased through the…

I was coasting along one powdery morning last winter, idly accepting my chairlift windburn, when I felt the familiar urge to rant. It was already noon and the high-alpine terrain remained closed. Fresh snow coated choice lines, but visibility was dodgy. With a cornice guarding most of the entries above tree line, I knew ski patrol couldn’t risk allowing a tourist to ski off it unintentionally and get hurt. Which meant all of us were relegated to tracked-out scraps below. The local sitting next to me lobbed the first grenade. “Fine day to not ski powder again,” he sniffed. I commiserated—and immediately felt better. Then, as is often the case, I felt worse, because my love for this place far outweighs my frustration. There are times to gripe, don’t get…

How a vagabond from New York changed powder ski photography forever. LEE COHEN STEERED his pewter brown 2003 Suburban up the winding road in Little Cottonwood Canyon, bound for another day of skiing at Alta Ski Area. It was April. An Altaholics Anonymous sticker was plastered on the bumper next to a dented Utah license plate proclaiming the state’s natural treasure: “The Greatest Snow on Earth.” He wore a knit beanie and the transition lenses on his spectacles were a dark purple. The inside of his Suburban was just as dirty as the outside. Mud covered the seats, the mats were crusted with dirt, and dust was everywhere. All signs pointed to Cohen’s regular passenger, his dog Zeke. An old Grateful Dead cassette tape provided the soundtrack because his CD…

Khala Patar, south ridge of Pumori, above Everest Base Camp, looking across the Khumbu Icefall to Everest and Nuptse. “You can’t see Lhotse at all walking in, but from this point you get a glimpse of the top of the Lhotse Face. It was the first time we could see there’s really snow, and that we might be able to ski off the summit. At this point, our stoke is really high. But this is also the first time you see the icefall and I have no idea how we’re going to get through that. So we’re like, ‘Oh boy, we gotta get to work.’” —Jim Morrison WHAT FOLLOWS ARE SELECT ANECDOTES OF THE HISTORIC EXPEDITION ON THE AFTERNOON of September 30, 2018, with the sun shining and the wind…

Torrey Udall Age: 28 Hometown: Carbondale, Colorado Occupation: Director of Development and Operations for Protect Our Winters As a Colorado native with a family history of environmental activism, it was only fitting that Torrey Udall found his place working for Protect Our Winters in 2016. Growing up in Carbondale, his father helped found the Community Office for Resource Energy Efficiency, a non-profit that helps Roaring Fork Valley residents cut carbon emissions. His uncle Mark Udall, former U.S. Senator, his grandfather Mo Udall, former U.S. Representative, and mother, the former program director of the Colorado Outward Bound School, all helped spark Torrey’s passion for environmental protection. After taking a hiatus from skiing to play basketball while studying business at Fort Lewis College, Torrey finally found his way back to his true…