Powder

Khala Patar, south ridge of Pumori, above Everest Base Camp, looking across the Khumbu Icefall to Everest and Nuptse. “You can’t see Lhotse at all walking in, but from this point you get a glimpse of the top of the Lhotse Face. It was the first time

I skied in jeans (“Forever in Blue Jeans,” 47.2) for almost 20 years and would take them to the local dry cleaners to have them soaked in an oil emulsion used for janitorial dust mops. They were waterproofed good for three days if you fell a lot (whi

LEE COHEN STEERED his pewter brown 2003 Suburban up the winding road in Little Cottonwood Canyon, bound for another day of skiing at Alta Ski Area. It was April. An Altaholics Anonymous sticker was plastered on the bumper next to a dented Utah licens

THE 40-FOOT SAILBOAT rocked gently back and forth on the ink-black waters off Vancouver Island, British Columbia. It was the last night of a 10-day trip up the remote Bute Inlet, where a crew of skiers and I had been using the boat as a base camp to

Torrey Udall Age: 28 Hometown: Carbondale, Colorado Occupation: Director of Development and Operations for Protect Our Winters As a Colorado native with a family history of environmental activism, it was only fitting that Torrey Udall found his place

WE MET IN A SAFEWAY PARKING LOT in Anacortes, Washington. I was a recent college graduate—homeless, transitory, ready to explore the West, and in need of some wheels. She was a middle-aged emerald-green beauty with a moonroof. It was the Fourth of Ju

Avalanche Canada issues avalanche forecasts for the largest single swath in the world—more than 155,000 square miles spanning from the U.S. border to the Yukon—the backbone of which is a stream of data from professionals at ski areas and guided opera

When I arrived in Lake Tahoe five years ago at age 30, I was seeking something…dare I say…professional? I lucked out with a job at Truckee’s indefatigable monthly newspaper, Moonshine Ink, where I wrote about powder pursuits and local issues. I was p

I was coasting along one powdery morning last winter, idly accepting my chairlift windburn, when I felt the familiar urge to rant. It was already noon and the high-alpine terrain remained closed. Fresh snow coated choice lines, but visibility was dod