Salt Lake City Ten Years Later
Ten years later, Salt Lake City still feels like home, even if I couldn't remember exactly how to get around. The 2002 Olympics were a boon to builders. A number of new buildings have sprouted up downtown. A fantastic new public library, a massive LDS conference center, a second huge conference center for non-Mormons, and a light-rail system. The university was given a major makeover that included scores of new buildings, including two new structures for the School of Art. The most stunning change was the sprawl. Fifty miles south of SLC lies the city of Provo. Ten years ago, there were thirty miles of desert separating the two cities. Today, not one inch of land remains undeveloped. The megalopolis along the foothills of the Wasatch range forecast ten years ago has become a reality. So has the smog. The shit-brown cloud choking the city was so thick you could literally taste the pollution in the air.
Fortunately, some things don't change. Two of my favorite eateries, Ruth's diner and Cafe Pierpont, were exactly as I remember them. Alta, the skier's ski area, remains an underdeveloped winter wonderland. Unfortunately, some things never change... Mormons.
My dad and I skied Alta on my first day. The gods welcomed me home with a snow storm. Despite poor visibility, it was a spectacular day. We skied Snowbird on day two. Brilliant sun revealed a ski area that had doubled its' acreage in the past ten years. We skied the new-to-me backside of the mountain. I spied a couple skiers hiking an untouched bowl while riding the Little Cloud Chair. I followed the main track around to the newly opened gate allowing access to this area. A number of skiers had taken the bait and were hiking up the ridge to ski this last remaining stretch of fresh powder. I left my dad, popped off my skis and started hiking. I wasn't going to miss this opportunity. The track up was steep enough my knees were touching the next step. About a thousand vertical feet later, I was standing high on the bowl looking down between my ski tips at slope named Toad Hill. Serpentine tracks fell below me. I pushed off with a whoop and dropped in. Twelve gorgeous thigh-deep turns later, I reached the track across the bottom of the slope. Paul was Happy.
Snow Basin is, or was, an out-of-the-way day-ski area located 40 miles north of SLC, near Ogden. It was never known for difficult terrain or annual snowfall. Much has changed since the Olympics. Five events were hosted by Snow Basin, including the Men's and Women's downhill. The financial investment made to put a world-class face on for the games was/is stunning... Three new high-speed gondolas, one new high-speed chair, 5 new lodges, new grooming machines, and the most sophisticated snow-making system in the world now grace the mountain. The lodges are jaw-dropping. Never, in all my years of skiing, have I, or my father, seen such extravagant ski lodges. I cringe at the thought of how many giant redwood trees were felled to provide the timber for the support structures of each building. Carpeted floors, marble covering every square inch of the bathrooms, copper gutters, carved wood everywhere, plush leather couches and chairs, custom carved glass doors, wood tables, custom wrought iron fireplace gates, stunning stone work, art glass chandeliers, wood day-lockers, fabric wall coverings, stone tables, gilded light fixtures, marble countertops, bronze statues, original paintings.... Guh!!! Snow Basin is still not known for difficult skiing. There is not one condo or room for rent at the base. It remains a day-ski area, although, this will (have to) change. No World Cup races have been held at Snow Basin since the Olympics and none have been scheduled. How in the hell they will pay this transformation off is a huge question mark. At $55 dollars a day, you are paying to use the bathrooms. I have to admit, it's worth it, even if you spend all day sitting on the toilet. I've never seen anything like it.
My dad and I ended our day by skiing the Olympic downhill course from top to bottom. We rode the Olympic Tram into the clouds and exited onto the knife-edge ridge where the starting shack is perched. We were looking downhill at a wall of white. The clouds were so thick it was impossible to see past your ski tips. I pushed off and disappeared into the fog. 100 yards downhill, the cloud layer dissipated. The Grizzly Downhill is not a long course as downhill's go, but it was a fabulous way to end the day. I skied through the Olympic finish area with a huge smile on my face.
