MAMMOTH UNDERTAKING by Jackson Hogen
[reproduced from SKI Magazine December, 2001]

While the trail map applies names to the mountain's various faces, there's little evidence of trail signage on the hill. Where one is skiing is more commonly described by the adjacent lift, as in, "Today we skied off 23 and 14." (The resort names its new lifts, but most are still frequently referred to by their numbers.)

There's no way a trail map can do justice to this mountain; a better depiction of the place would be if the map were crumpled into a 3-D bit of origami. Then you could appreciate that Lincoln Mountain, serviced by Chair 22, is a hill unto itself. Or that getting to some of the best skiing on the frontside, such as the inaptly titled Paranoid Flats, entails dipping over the backside. It is instructive to recall that Mammoth is a volcano by birth, and it straddles a deep fault line, with all the contours and craggy protuberances that a timeless history of upheavals has left in its wake.

Mammoth newcomers are often found, dazed, at lift's end, asking anyone who will listen, "Where is the best skiing?" The answer to that question lies in which way the wind has blown. Of the natural forces that buffet its slopes-sun, snow and wind-the wind has the greatest influence. The wind changes how the mountain skis yearly, weekly, daily and hourly. It can reduce hundreds of acres to gnarled coral heads, interesting to look at but gruesome to ski, while on another face it loads in silky snow that splashes against your chest with every turn. When the wind is at its worst, scouring the summit, the top of the mountain is shut down. But even on such days, skiers can find refuge on the leeward face of Lincoln Mountain, where Avalanche Chutes provide a private playpen filled with powder.

As is true of all great mountains, Mammoth is in its glory when the sun rises the day after a storm blows through. If you're looking for guaranteed goodies, drop off the top and head skier's-right to the glades of Dragon's Tail. It entails a bit of traversing, but here the trees shelter the snow, preserving nifty lines that snake through the forest. It's the only part of the upper mountain that is dappled with trees, and therefore the only place that isn't obviously cut up by noon.

If there's a drawback to Mammoth's natural layout, it's that all slopes are exposed to the eye as well as the wind. As local freeride star Silver Chesak succinctly puts it, "There are no secrets at Mammoth," meaning the untouched line you saw during your lift ride has also been coveted by lift-mates in front of you.

On the plus side, Mammoth's high altitude (11,053 feet) assures that snow stays mid-winter light into May and won't set up like porridge despite a preponderance of sunny days. Even when tracked up, the snow quality in nooks such as Wipe Out Chutes off Chair 23 or on the open flank of White Bark Bowl remains exceptional even in the late afternoon two days after a storm.

From a skier's perspective, the looming transformation of the town conjures fears of once-open expanses chock-full of out-of-state visitors. Not to worry. Even doubling Mammoth Lake's local population from 5,000 to 10,000 and adding another 2,000 to 3,000 pillows won't overwhelm the mountain's robust hourly uphill capacity of 56,000, which will only grow as resort redevelopment continues. The bulk of the increased tourist traffic is targeted at visitors who come midweek, when the hill can easily absorb more skiers and boarders. As Doug Ogilvy, vice president of Intrawest Mammoth, notes, "If you're standing in line, you're skiing at the wrong lift."