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A Tale of Two Utah Ski Tours by Alex Wellen - added October 21, 2006
Many local ski tourers consider Broads Fork to be the crown jewel in the Wasatch Mountains. Home to some of the most spectacular and foreboding alpine terrain in Utah, it has been the location of some of the finest ski days in my long and storied backcountry career. This is the story of two ski tours that took place in Broads Fork.
The ski season got off to a somewhat slow start this year in Utah, so I did not do much ski touring in December. By mid-January the snowpack was building and my friends and I were chomping at the bit to head up Broads Fork and experience its magical terrain and unparalleled beauty. Phone calls were made and plans were laid out and I met Dan O,Connor and  Bob Lamm at the mouth of Big Cottonwood Canyon at 7:00 A.M. on a Monday. We climbed into Dan's Honda and headed up the canyon to the Broads Fork trailhead. The snowpack was still thin, especially at lower elevations, so we put our skis and snowboards on our backpacks and started walking up the trail. After about the first mile the snow became more consistent and we were able to don climbing skins for the rest of the ascent. After climbing a total of about two miles and 2,100 vertical feet, we finally reached the basin. From there we decided to climb to the top of the basin and ascend to the top of Tanners notch, overlooking Tanners slide path in Little Cottonwood Canyon. After a leisurely 4.5-hour climb and about a 4,500-vertical-foot gain, we reached our destination. The view alone was reward enough for the suffering endured to obtain it. We skied a relatively short north face back into Broads Fork and decided to climb up the west face in order to scope a new line that Dan had heard about in Mill B Canyon.
The ascent was quick and painless. The run down into Mill B looked good even though we could not actually see the entire route. We dropped in and skied the top half of the slope with authority. Then we regrouped at the slightly rocky waistline to scope out the rest of the route. It looked good, but we still could not tell for sure so I volunteered to go down and check it out. The run down was mostly jagged rock, thinly disguised by snow, but I was able to snake my way through gracefully. I stopped on top of a 25-foot cliff, covered in ice, and I realized that the only way out was the way that I came in. I yelled to my partners above that it was a hanging snowfield and they began the arduous task of hiking out. Meanwhile I had to put a boot trail up the rocky face that I had just snowboarded down. After hiking over 5,000 feet of vertical gain I was not very excited about it. The snow on this face was hollow in spots near the rocks and, at times, my legs punched through up to my waist. Finally, after some tense moments, I felt confident about the snow below my feet, so I put my head down and started climbing hard. All of a sudden, my entire body dropped into a rock well that had been covered in snow like a tiger trap. I was in over my head, but fortunately, I landed on some solid rock. From this position I was able to punch back through the snow and use my snowboard to pull myself out of the hole and back onto the snow. Having narrowly averted tragedy, I calmly resumed my hike and rejoined my partners on the ridge that we started from, regaling them with tales of my near-death experience.
 It was starting to get late now and we were all very tired, but nobody was whining and, more importantly, nobody was loosing his cool. We were all in remarkably good spirits, a true sign of quality touring partners. The next game plan was to ski the west face back into Broads Fork and traverse low along the east ridge to a saddle. From there we knew that we could ski into Mill B Canyon and have an easy glide back to the car. We dropped in on the east-facing slope for some good, quality turns. At the bottom of the slope we crossed the Mill B Creek and began skiing down the trail. Once again, the shallow snowpack reared its ugly head and we were forced to remove our skis and snowboards and walk down the trail. It was dark out when we returned to the car, ten hours after we started, but we were all still in good spirits and happy to have survived another episode of "Stupid Human Tricks."
Fast foreword six weeks to Monday, March 6th. After being blessed with an above-average snowfall for the month of February, the snowpack in the Wasatch was looking good. It was time to ski something big. I called Kevin Dressel and left him a two-word message: "Stairs Gulch." Kevin called me back and we agreed to meet at the mouth of Big Cottonwood Canyon at 7:30A.M. Stairs Gulch is a 4,800-vertical-foot, north-facing slide path that descends from the top of Storm Mountain. We both drove up from the mouth, leaving my car at the bottom of Storm Mountain and driving Kevin's car up to the Broads Fork trailhead. Because there was more coverage, we were able to skin up right from the car. Upon arriving at the bottom of the Broads Fork basin we could see that Bonkers, our ascent route to the top of Storm Mountain, had not been skied. Kevin punched a skin trail to the top and I followed. From the top of Bonkers, we were afforded a view into Stairs Gulch and were almost unable to contain our excitement. Since Bonkers was untracked, we decided to drop a line on it, climb back up to the top of Storm Mountain, and ski Stairs Gulch down to my car. Kevin went first. As his snowboard floated through the powder like a hot knife through butter, my heart raced with anticipation. Kevin linked 100 perfect turns and then traversed out of the way so that I could make my run. I dropped in and mirrored Kevin's turns as the cold smoke rooster tail shot from the back of my snowboard. Kevin and I regrouped and began the ascent back up Bonkers to the top of Storm Mountain.
The view from the top of Storm Mountain was almost unparalleled, with Broads Fork and upper Big Cottonwood Canyon to the east and the Salt Lake Valley to the west. So breathtaking was the view and so mild was the weather that we were in no hurry  to drop in on our final run down Stairs Gulch. Alas, the snowfield below us beckoned, so we snapped on our snowboards and dropped in. I dropped in first and could not believe my good fortune. It had to be the best snow that I had skied all season. To catch it in such an awesome location was a once in a lifetime experience. I ripped about 50 turns and stopped on a knoll to take some photos as Kevin mirrored my line. We skirted some cliff bands to the skier's right and aired over a burgschrund and then it was smooth turning for another 3,000 feet of vertical. We removed our snowboards, crossed the creek, made about a dozen more turns, and then walked the last 150 yards back to my car. Kevin and I both concluded that this was the best ski day either of us had had in two years. Numerous jokes were made about never going snowboarding again because it could never get any better than those runs down Stairs Gulch.
Sometimes the mountains can humble you and beat you down and make you whimper, and sometimes you emerge victorious. On our first tour up Broads Fork in the new millennium we endured pain, suffering, and hardship and narrowly escaped without a major mishap. On our second tour of the new millennium up Broads Fork we had a cake walk and ended up being the two greatest snowboarders on the planet and legends in our own minds! From "Stupid Human Tricks" to super human feats, this has been a tale of two ski tours.
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