Saving The Best For Last

Words by Ben White

The way a ski season progresses can be a pretty good metaphor for life. The season starts in October or November when the first flakes touch the ground: it’s time to pull gear out from the back of the closet and take stock of what the most wonderful time of year might bring. Maybe some new gloves need to be acquired or an international ski trip needs to be planned. After that, the local ski hill opens up one or two runs and we get sore in places we forgot about over the summer. Snow continues to fall and we get to ski powder with friends and claim that we’ll take “two more runs, but skip the last.” After the cold dry snow, spring shows up with long days, strong legs, and corn. And then the season is over and there is a definitive “last run”

The last run is a funny concept in the ski world. Nobody wants bad luck on the last run. Everybody wants to end on a high note and reduce the risk of injury due to being too tired. Hence the common phrase “two more, skip the last.” But the reality is that there will always be a last run: of the day and of the season. You just may or may not see it for what it is in the moment.

Ski resorts don’t often announce closing day being yesterday after a perfect day in the sun with good corn and good friends and good apres. They pick a day on the calendar and at 4:00, whether we like it or not, they call Last Run. Bad luck be damned.

Ski touring is similar. Oftentimes Last Run is also our first run, but we don’t claim it. The quick one and done before or after work is claiming Last Run. The big mission with an alpine start is the last run of the day. It’s also a lot easier to claim Last Run when the thought of another is at least an hour of walking uphill despite the need for good luck when skiing back to the car is probably higher when on a ski tour compared to a lazy groomer. At the end of the day, all good things come to an end.

With the explosion of ski touring as well as the niche world of skiing lists, I think it’s important to explore the idea of saving the best for last.

Normal people, like my wife, like to ski what sounds appealing on any given day. Some weirdos like myself like to ski lists, and even weirder people like to try and tick a list within a certain amount of time. It might be every named run at their local ski area. Or every chairlift at their favorite ski area in a day. Or maybe it’s every route in a guidebook, or every high peak in the region, or all 50 Classics.

From a casual observer's point of view, it might make sense to start with the easiest and end with the hardest. New skiers tend to start with the green runs and end with the blacks after getting more skills. For somebody new to ski touring, start with the shortest easiest approaches and end with the biggest longest ones.

Hardest does not always mean best. Best is subjective to the person deciding what is best. Sometimes the general public can generally agree that there’s a best burrito joint in town, but there will always be qualifiers. Best burrito closest to the ski area, but not best in town. Best burrito, but terrible margaritas.

Best in skiing can change by the hour. The best snow that recently fell can be obliterated by the sun and turned into sticky mank, making the best run of the year suddenly a lot more work. The best terrain choice can change quickly based on snow quality and energy. A south facing resort lap is pretty good on a spring morning, but too sticky to be the best option at 3pm. The best skis for the day can change rather quickly based on who we are skiing with too. My old slalom skis are great for zooming around in the sun with my mom, but aren’t the best for watching my best friend charge through cold smoke next to me. And the people, subjectively the best part of skiing, are also an important factor to curate.

Recently I got to watch one of my best friends finish skiing the lines named in Andrew McLean’s “Chuting Gallery,” a list of the “best” chutes in the Wasatch The end was coming and he knew that with his continued effort, he would have to claim “last run” despite that claim being loaded with potentially bad luck. And he nailed it. It took him around a decade to ski all 90 routes in the local guidebook. He had a vision to have a big ski party with his best friends to celebrate finishing.

This particular guidebook has a list of seven “chutelettes.” Hardly chutes by the traditional definition, the chutelettes are seven short lines located all next to each other on a single ridge visible from the parking lot. The generally considered bottom of the chutes is a 20-60 minute approach from the road. Anybody with ski touring gear could come and join the celebration. Somebody’s dad was on his third ski tour and came to watch. There was a kitchen area dug out with a grill, lots of hot dogs, cookies and plenty of beers. A sunny weekend day of accessible fun skiing was in store.

By the afternoon, the snow had started to refreeze into a nice breakable crust. None of these very short chutes were particularly scenic or challenging for the region. By most accounts, this couldn’t possibly be The Best. The guidebook contains two routes that are also part of the 50 Classics. The Wasatch has numerous beautiful chutes and faces that get blanketed in the Greatest Snow on Earth.

How could breakable crust in the easiest chutes of the whole guidebook be the best?

Best is subjective. Anybody who has been around the block knows that 40 degree snow for 3000 vertical feet skis the same whether it’s in Utah, the Eastern Sierra, Chamonix, or the Tetons. Greg saved the best for last because he knew that making it accessible to all of his friends would make it possible for all of the people who helped him become the skier who he is today. From the most precise operators in a high alpine environment to the newest ski tourers, everybody could come and hang out. There were hot dogs, party shirts, and beers between laps.

It was one of the best days of ski energy I had ever felt. Everybody was happy to be out, celebrating our friend, his persistence, and mountain skills. Not only were we able to benefit from his Cool Ski Guy factor, but also his ability to curate a community event where we could meet new ski friends and connect again with old ones.

Skiing solo is a great way to get in a lot of runs, but I know for sure that my best runs are all with good friends. Involving them is how I save the best for last.