TRAVEL: Utah skiing at Deer Valley, Solitude offers Rocky Mountain adventures

ANALYSIS/OPINION

Let’s face it, winter in Utah means skiing. Hell, they even put it on all the license plates. And after a somewhat disappointing snowfall in the 2014-15 season, 2015-16 has thus far been off to a tremendous start thanks to ample El Nino-facilitated precipitation that has made the Rocky Mountains a paradise for the winter outdoors types.

The Washington Times was recently invited on a three-day trip to the Salt Lake City-area resorts of Solitude and Deer Valley to enjoy some fun in the high-altitude sun, shred fresh powder and otherwise experience the magnificence of Park City and its surrounding alpine wintry wonderlands.

 

Day 1

Thanks to two hours of time difference with Washington, D.C., it’s still a young, fresh morning when I touch down at SLC. Though tired from two planes on a trip that began nearly nine hours and two time zones away, the fresh Rocky Mountain air is there to greet the senses for my first time in this city in over half a decade as I step out to the curbside, where a van fashioned by Canyon Transportation awaits its solo passenger for the lift up to Solitude.

Upon seeing a sign for an In n’ Out burger, my driver and I parlay in a friendly fashion about what he views as the subpar burger; he personally favors Crown, but as a longtime former resident of Los Angeles, I’m dreaming about that double-double.

Alas, we quickly turn off the interstate onto route 190, a rather windy affair that snakes its way through treacherous canyon country. With every thousand feet we climb, the temperature drops inversely, until the outdoor thermometer has dipped down into the 20s. By the time we reach Solitude Mountain Resort at 8,300 feet, coats and scarves are a necessity.

As I live at sea level, at the confluence of the Potomac and Anacostia rivers, at Solitude’s altitude — even as much as I work out — trudging my bags from the van drop-off to hotel check-in is an arduous affair. Welcome to the mountains!

My room is a spacious affair, outfitted with two queens (which means one for just my stuff). The bar and mini-fridge area are generous and the bathroom is truly wide-open. What really makes this a great place to be is the room-length windows offering views out on the sloops of Solitude. As I typically prefer my living quarters a bit on the chillier side, I leave the sliding glass door ajar so that Utah mountain air can encase me from without as I take a well-needed nap.

Upon awakening I phone up Sherri Harkin, communications manager for Solitude. Sherri greets me with an amiable smile and briskly gets me fitted for rental ski equipment. We take a nearby lift up another thousand feet and then ski some challenging terrain (I haven’t skied in three years) down to the Roundhouse, where food and beverage director Andrew Fletcher is offering up a tremendous Himalayan spread that reminds me fondly of my time living in Pasadena, California, and its bevy of Nepalese food palaces.

I bid Sherri adieu for a spell and spend what remains of the afternoon taking various lifts and trails, even venturing as far as the topmost lift, which deposits me at 10,035 feet. It’s a hazy, foggy day, so views of the continent’s most majestic mountain chain are obscured, but the air is invigorating to the soul as I take more plunges down the rather steep trails, getting my muscles and my lungs re-used to the altitude and the exertion.

Locking up the ski gear for the day in the Inn’s basement locker room (keys available at the front desk), I meet up with Sherri and my fellow journos at Thirsty Squirrel for a cocktail before dinner. It’s a great do-drop-in, with several varieties of local Uinta beer with which to toast the winter air.

After beers and whiskey, we are led by Emily Summers, senior communications manager for nearby Deer Valley Resorts, for a snowshoe trek, replete with headlamps, up the hill a piece to the Solitude Yurt. Here, among the pines and the snow, we are feted with a several-course meal of salad, beef, gluten-free dessert and wines in the warm comfort of a Mongolian edifice. It’s mountain hospitality bar none.

Rather than snowshoe back to our digs, Sherri and Emily take us on a walk through the trees and out to one of the ski trails, now being freshly groomed for the morning. We walk down amid the moonlight — reflected off the snow — back to the Village Inn.

Before calling it a night I opt for a soak in the Inn’s hot tub, which I discover is outdoors. No matter, as the warm water acts in fine counterpoint to the chilly air, gently falling snow alighting on my arms as I cradle a Uinta beer.

Not a bad day to start my little journey away from the capital.

 

Day 2

I wake up with a bit of a headache: the combination of elevation, dryness and a few extra glasses of wine in the yurt. But I’m ready to keep the adventure going. It’s a perfect day, the sun is shining, and the Rockies beckon.

After a breakfast buffet at St. Bernard’s inside the Inn, the rest of my crew gets fitted for skis and snowboards. By 10 a.m. we’re on the slopes, with Emily and Sherry taking us on a full mountain tour of all that Solitude has to offer.

As mentioned, Solitude is a somewhat difficult mountain to ski, especially after a bit of a lapse such as my own combined with the elevation, the tiredness and getting the ski muscles re-acclimated to the punishment of pushing fresh powder aside.

One of the most interesting chairlifts is Sunrise, whose track goes up over a ridge before then plummeting downward on a hill before rising yet again, finally depositing the adventurer at one of Solitude’s many peaks. From here one can access some of the most difficult backcountry skiing on the mountain, which I beg off in favor of following Sherri and Emily back down North Star and Timberline back to base.

For lunch it’s time to enjoy the Honeycomb Grill back at the Village, which offers exemplary views of the slopes while the wait staff and managers amble about.

Having worked up an appetite after several hours of hard shredding, the table opts for a first course of poutine, a Rocky Mountain take on that classic French-Canadian dish. This particular variety is served with mustard pork, marble fries, smoky gravy and Heber Valley cheddar curd (not the smothered version popular in Quebec). It’s a great appetizer, but the cajun mac n’ cheese is virtually screaming at me from the menu. The dish comes out in what might be described as a vat of awesomeness, with sauteed shrimp and andouille sausage amid the cheesy pasta. Surprisingly, it’s a bit light on the heat (for my palate), so I add some hot sauce to give it some zing. It’s so heavy that I barely make a dent before tapping out.

After a quick nap back at the room, it’s time to move across the hill to our second destination, so I pack up my wonderful room at the Inn in leave.

While Deer Valley is indeed just up over the ridge, there’s no direct route between resorts, so Emily drives us back down 190 and then to I-80 and 224, heading straight into Park City itself.

As a film buff, to me this is holy ground, the site of Robert Redford’s annual Sundance Film Festival happening only a few weeks hence. Alas, I’ll miss it on this trip, but it’s a great enticement to return another January for the filmtastic festivus.

We check in at the Lodges at Deer Valley, a condominium-style community of ski housing but feet from the base of the Deer Valley ski area. My two other male writers and I are housed in what can only be described as a spacious affair fit for royalty. Our condo is fashioned out with a dining table set that can host nearly a dozen, a living area replete with fireplace and outdoor patio, generous kitchen area with barstools and, the coup d’grace, three entirely separate bedrooms — each apportioned with a private entry to the hallway that doesn’t require any traipsing through the common areas during the small areas.

My “quarters” has a king-size bed, ottoman at the foot as a staging ground for my clothes, wooden cabinet with entertainment center nestled within and a mini-fridge and coffeemaker at the ready. But this is such luxury that I also have my own connected living area as well, which includes two couches, work desk and its own television just in case I’m too lazy to walk 5 extra feet to turn on the bedroom TV.

All of the furnishings are in wood, with the bed frame even whittled from logs and trees in angles that give the luxuriousness a nonetheless rustic feeling. The domicile gives the itinerant traveler the feeling of being on the frontier — but with all modern amenities at the ready.

For dinner we are met at The Brass Tag, an upscale, local cuisine-centered brasserie inside the Lodges. The meal’s hostess is Linda Jager, director of communications for the Park City chamber of commerce and, I learn, a fellow film critic for the local NPR affiliate, KPCW.

A bevy of appetizers materialize afore us. There’s the offbeat, tasty house-made ginger soy guacamole, which puts a slightly sour spin on the usually spicy dish, and oven-fired chimichurri chips. For the entree I select the smoked Utah trout, which comes attired in wilted spinach, crisp apples, roasted heirloom carrots and toasted hazelnut tarragon butter for a delightful, mile-high delicacy. I choose a California chardonnay to complement this fine meal.

I’m kind of bushed, but who knows when I’ll be here again, so I decide to head into central Park City to mix with and drink with the locals on my own. My first stop is the No Name Saloon & Grill, a watering hole brimming, on this Saturday eve, with locals and tourists mixing it up while NFL playoffs on the many televisions determine the next brackets. The interior of the No Name is a smorgasbord of ephemera, from vintage toys to old bicycle parts adorning the walls. I put back a few Uintas and tumblers of High West whiskey, made right here in Park City and also take in some live music at Irish pub Flanagan’s On Main across the street.

After a few more stops, I hop a cab back to the Lodges. Two miles and $15 later — according to multiple people I spoke with, cabbies in this burg can essentially charge whatever they please — I call it a night.

 

Day 3

After buffet-style breakfast at The Brass Tag, we are shuttled over to the Snow Park Lodge at the base of Deer Valley’s ski area to get geared up. As Deer Valley is ski-only (sorry, boarders), it’s another pair of parabolic skies for this traveler.

Our slope guides for the day are Ryan Mayfield, Deer Valley Resorts’ senior media manager, and Lara Bruckner, senior communications coordinator. Both are friendly and warm. Both are originally from elsewhere. Both are tremendous skiers.

Both are excellent guides.

Today is the best day of the trip. It snowed again yesterday, but the terrain of Deer Valley is much easier on the legs than Solitude, in my opinion. Ryan and Lara take us on lengthy runs over beginner and intermediate territory that allow for longer, more leisurely runs that are kinder on the thighs. The overnight trail grooming has been spectacular, leaving behind smooth, free-flying runs from summit to base.

Views are amazing, with the Rockies stretching out to the horizon on all sides, covered in fresh whiteness dancing in the mountain winds.

Ryan’s infectious laugh hurtles across trail and the air between chairlifts as he and Lara give us an exquisite tour of the various lifts around Deer Valley, shooting back and forth on intermediate and beginner runs that include — and I’m not making this up — a trail called Trump. I ask one of my guides to snap a photo of me doing my best sourpuss-faced impression of the presidential hopeful in front of the trail moniker for all posterity.

For lunch we reconnoiter at Royal Street Cafe at the Silver Lake Lodge, a fine bistro, where we re-warm our bods and reenergize over a fine meal.

Time for another specialty beverage, the blueberry mojito, which is both delicious and refreshing, and even makes me feel for a minute or two like I’m on a tropical isle. For appetizers the table splits edamame and the dungeness crab tower, towering with both goodness and taste.

In the mood to sample many of the wares the joint has to offer, I grab the RSC BBQ Sampler for my entree, which offers three slider-size portions of bulgogi, bison burger and pulled pork sandwich.

Having spent an entire weekend together, my fellow reporters and I by now have a shorthand, laughing and chuckling about misfires over the weekend (such as Tim’s having done a snowboard face-plant at Solitude in front of a bunch of kids) and laughing about our alcohol-fueled times.

After hearty lunch, it’s time to get our muscles some relief after three hard days of snow-shredding. (And is there any better feeling than finally releasing oneself from ski boots?) Accordingly, our next stop is Spa Montage. I’m finally getting acclimated to the altitude and the dryness, but nonetheless, my lower extremities are burning from the past few days, so I’m set up for the Alpine Body Bliss massage. My masseuse, a recent transplant from Georgia, melts my muscle pangs away with delicate workmanship — so much so that I even fall asleep for seconds at a time.

After having the lactic acid worked out of my muscles, I head deeper into the spa to soak in the gender-sequestered hot tub and enjoy the steam room and the sauna. Then it’s time for the co-ed 25-meter lap pool, which is itself perched next to yet another hot tub sited next to windows offering more phenomenal views of the Rockies just outside. There’s a balcony out there as well, but I’ll keep my wet bod in the interior.

Ryan and Lara pick us up outside the spa to return us to the Lodges. After a quick shedding of all of the day’s ski clothes, we head out for dinner at Seafood Buffet inside Snow Park Lodge. As I learned during my visit, because Salt Lake City is one of Delta’s hubs, fresh ocean fare is flown in (from both coasts) every morning for ski restaurants to serve. It’s a delicacy to enjoy hundreds of miles from any large body of water — Great Salt Lake notwithstanding, of course.

The bevy of options of the buffet-style bounty are too generous and varied to describe fully here, but my personalized trek through the various stations leaned heavily on Washington state oysters, tuna poke, steamed clams and mussels, scallop ceviche, Honey soy glazed sablefish and seared-to-order Pacific yellowfin tuna with wasabi cream. All of this followed by the singular amazing dessert, the Deer Valley’s Chocolate Snowball.

All of it, of course, chased down with ample local beers and wine.

Ryan and Lana drop us back at the Lodges, where I must briskly pack up for my trip back to SLC for my redeye to D.C. I bid farewell to my guides and my fellow journos and board a Park City Transportation van in which, once again, I am the only passenger.

I’m wiped, but pleasantly so. I’ve seen much of what the amazing Salt Lake-area ski country has to offer, enjoyed the high-altitude runs, dined like a king. In 12 hours I’ll be back on the east coast, where responsibilities and jobs await me.

But I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Eric Althoff is the Lifestyle and Entertainment editor for The Washington Times.