Snowpocalypse has been good to skiers this year.
Considering the epic winter Vancouverites have been having—salt shortages! Calgary radio stations making fun of us!—it seems counter intuitive to direct anyone anywhere else than toward the glorious local mountains for a weekend of skiing. Do go there. Cypress has some of the prettiest views on the planet, and Whistler, well Whistler wins Best Mountain in most ski magazines for a reason. But our snow dump pales in comparison to what some of our southern neighbours have been getting. Colorado’s Crested Butte actually had to shut down because the snow buried the base of its ski lifts. And then there’s Park City—home to the Sundance Film Fest, Robert Redford, and the largest skiable terrain in the U.S.. A direct flight to Salt Lake City means it’s faster to get there than Big White or Sun Peaks, and this year they’ve has been getting Biblical amounts of snow (and they don’t use "Biblical" lightly down in SLC). Locals have come to expect greatness, so much that when I was there in mid-January, and my friend expressed excitement for overnight snowfall to a room service attendant, he shrugged it off as a nothing-special day. Wait, did we read the weather reports wrong? We did not. “It’s just 10 or 12 inches,” he sighed. The perfect day? Get up early for fresh tracks, ski out the Canyons, end with a cruisy run down Boa (to discover still-fresh stashes), and take your skied-out legs to an après of hot almond cider at the Red Tail at the base. Repeat for a week.