Headwaters: Discovery: Soft Corn On The Pfeifferhorn

I have been hearing about the pleasure of corn skiing for over 5 years now. My back-country buddies and winter articles have told me corn skiing is nigh unto a heavier, slower form of powder skiing: soft, forgiving, exhilirating. (I'm not sure how anything could be better - or even close to better - than low density, deep powder in the Wasatch, but I try to keep the mind open...) I have never had the experience of skiing this type of snow myself. It is an elusive form of skiing where the chosen ski aspect, time of day, slope angle, and ambient weather conditions all have to come together to make the experience really count. I have tried to ski it in the past with different partners and mountains, but the true corn experience always escaped us for one reason or another.

For some very lucky reason, it all came together for me on the Pfeifferhorn on Friday, February 26. The aspect was southeast facing. The time of day was 10:38 am. The slope angle was approaching 52 degrees on the face of descent. And the ambient weather conditions could not have been more ideal, with highs in the 50's and clear skies with utterly no wind, making for a gorgeous sunrise.

Sunburst over White Baldy as first light pushes back the night in Upper Red Pine Canyon

The southeast face, also referred to as The East Ramp, is usually wind swept and therefore an impenetrable slab. But with no winds and a bright sunny morning, the climbing was firm but not too bullet proof.

The Pfeiff, as seen from the wind-scoured Utah County side

The booter, and cliff band, was becoming more apparent at this point.

A boot-ee on the said boot-er...

Some pictures just don't do the terrain justice, especially I-Phone cameras. This type of winter summit climb was all new for me. Think of the booter shown as some of the steepest stairs you'll ever climb without needing a harness and rope...

The snow began to soften finally

Into thin air...the last and steepest push

Jeff working it up

Jeff was a fellow skier I met on the up-trail who had also never summited the Pfeiff, despite a few attempts over the years. Just like me. So we tracked each other going up and down through some of the tricky sections. I was grateful to have met him honestly.

On the top, we met 4 other people. These were all young and restless, hard core mountaineering types. Two of them were focused on rappelling the Northwest Couloir and the other two were taking on the Northeast Couloir. I recall the Pfeiff always being such a remote and wild mountain, with no quick and easy approach. I had never seen so many people up there, either in the winter or the summer. So seeing these 4 impatient guys literally "wait in line" to do these high-consequence descents was a bit shocking actually. Is there nothing sacred left in the Wasatch any more?? It reminded me a bit of the climbers' "traffic jam" that tragically occurred on Mount Everest's Hillary Step back in the Spring of 1996 when the large climbing parties of both Rob Hall and Scott Fisher competed to get to the summit first. And many from both parties perished up there in that ill-fated attempt. Obviously, this was a much smaller, less risky target than The Great One, but the notion of an overcrowded summit became apparent to me at this time.

Side-stepping sheer ice to the NW Col rappel station below.

Lots of scratched tips and tails through here.

While I currently have no desire to do something like the NW Col, that day may still arrive for me. Or not. Anyways, we took some pics on the summit instead, with gorgeous views in all directions on the compass.

Box Elder Peak and a thawing Utah Lake beyond.

South Thunder Mountain and Lone Peak beyond.

The whippet works...it turns out.

We finally left the pristine views and perfect weather from the summit and began heading down. We navigated the upper ramp nice and cautious. True corn is a really sweet form of snow. The best way I can describe it is a firm slurpee on top of a soft sponge. Can you feel that under foot? I can still now. And it certainly beats the bullet-proof ice sheets I am used to skiing on the steep stuff.

We then dropped into the main chute of the upper Maybird Headwall. Here the corn hadn't taken effect yet, due to the pure northern aspect of this famous headwall. But the sun was arriving.

Upper Maybird and Airplane Ridge

This chute skied beautifully and we opened up some bigger cruising turns towards the bottom of the slope. I then parted from Jeff and skied out some surprisingly fresh pow in perhaps my favorite line in Little Cottonwood which is the Upper Maybird Aprons.