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Backcountry Skiing blogs, videos, photos, and a whole lotta stoke.

Break Trail or Break Wind | Little Cottonwood Canyon Backcountry, UT United States | 01/27/09, by powderjunky

Farts. The very word brings an uninvited smile to the straightest of faces. The backdoor trumpet, chunder, laughing ass, morning thunder, rectum roar, voice of the toothless one; no matter what it's called, few can hold back a chuckle when confronted with this malodorous phenomenon.� But why is this response unique to just this occurrence, and not a sneeze or cough? I guess some mysteries will never be solved, however, this does not mean unappreciated.

It was a gorgeous Mormon day in Little Cottonwood Canyon, the sun was shining, the temps warm, the avalanche danger low, and Coolio kicking!� Not having spent too much time skiing in Utah, our eyes lit up with amazement at the endless accessible terrain that abounds in this snow gifted gulley of northern Utah. After giving the area a once over, we found ourselves drooling like a pair of rabid hyenas at the base of the beautiful Y-Couloir.

Similar to a tourist in Amsterdam, It looked pretty thoroughly hammered from the weekend, but the northern chalk that laden the line begged for our further investigation. Like a snow hungry Sherlock Holmes, we went in for a closer look.� As we boot packed up higher and higher I felt troubled a brewing down below.

Then it hit me, earlier in the day I had consumed enough delicious home-made chocolate chip cookies to feed the entire country of Zimbabwe, or to bring it closer to home, three Wisconsinites. I decided to fight the urges to open the flood gates of intestinal gases as I was breaking trail and my group members were below me.

About 1500 vertical feet up we decided the cruxes of the line had been too skied out and decided to ski from where we were. Our stopping point was on a rather steep section and it made one of my partners a little uncomfortable to put it modestly. It's funny how the mind can totally take control of you and make you completely paralyzed by fear. I earnestly tried to relax her by talking calmly and helping her with her transition into her skis. Nothing seemed to settle her.� She did not want to move. She did not want to move.

I tried all the positive encouragement I could, but to no avail, then out of the fearful silence erupted the loudest, most vibrant, barking spider this side of the hemisphere. It shook the couloir walls, caused trees to rattle, but most importantly caused my scared crony to explode with laughter. Turns out, it was just what the ass doctor ordered and she was suddenly loose as a goose and more than confident to ski the line below us.� With that we were skiing faster than the micro-machine man can talk, part because we were excited, but mostly to escape the aroma aftermath of what had taken place.