There she was, all gleaming and green. I stood in awe for just a moment before a liftie quietly unburdened me of my skis, placing them gently into the rack. “Would you like a cabin to yourself, sir?” I felt like I was stepping into a luxury suite, with a vaulted ceiling that looked like i t could easily accommodate 7-foot-1 Utah Jazz star — and former skier — Lauri Markkanen. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered remarkable views of the ridgeline. But not so much today, as we climbed quickly into the clouds. My first adventure on the new East Village Gondola came on a gray, blustery day as a much-needed winter storm moved in, bringing a mix of rain and snow and plenty of wind. While we have all waited patiently for Mother Nature to cooperate, I was itching to see how this remarkable two-stage gondola connected to the Deer Valley I know and love. The East Village Gondola is a creation of Doppelmayr, featuring its D-Line technology for a smooth, comfortable ride. It carried me 2,500 vertical feet over a three-mile span to the top of Park Peak, passing through the Big Dutch station along the way. I settled into the comfy seat, briefly wondering if I was the very first person to ride in that cabin. Then I noticed the muddy ski-boot marks across from me. Come on, people—have a little respect. Over the past few years, I’ve spent a lot of time hiking and riding around the East Village terrain. But today, rising through the clouds, I was completely lost. Completely in the clouds at the top of Park Peak brought a true top-of-the-world feeling — along with the unsettling realization that I had no idea where I was. OK, let’s just follow the crowd, I thought. For a moment, it felt like skiing Deer Valley for the very first time — no mental map, no ingrained muscle memory, just instinct and trust. There was something quietly refreshing about that disorientation, about letting the mountain reveal itself instead of anticipating every turn. Even after decades on these slopes, it turns out Deer Valley can still surprise you. I headed down Clipper, carving nice turns into the groomed surface, all the while skiing without any real sense of perspective. Then suddenly, there I was at the base of Pinyon Express. A glance at the trail map told the story: I was standing on Ontario, a run I’ve skied hundreds of times. It just looked completely different in the cloud. A quick drop down Ontario led me to Quincy Express — and just like that, my internal compass snapped back into place. A few days later, I returned. This time, it was a full-on winter wonderland. Fresh snow blanketed the East Village trails, and the sunshine brought everything into sharp perspective. From the high peaks of the Uintas to the broad sweep of Jordanelle Reservoir to the jagged, snow-covered ridgeline of Mount Timpanogos, the view was unlike anything I had seen at Deer Valley. Deep in the canyon below, the new Revelator Express was taking a test spin, inching closer to the day when skiers will carve arcs down the steep black-diamond runs spilling off the Redemption ridgeline. Now that I could see where I was going, everything felt easy again. A few fast laps on Pinyon Express before sliding down from Park Peak to Silver Lake. An effortless hop over to Flagstaff.  Later, seated at a window table in Cushing’s Cabin, nursing an Offset, I gazed out over sun-bleached powder stretching as far as I could see. As the sun dipped lower, it fortunately occurred to me that I still had a long way to ski. Clicking back into my bindings, I skated out down Ontario and Homeward Bound, passed through Silver Lake, and rocketed down McHenry — my mind already imagining the new ski-day possibilities unfolding from East Village. Sometimes, all it takes is a new way up the mountain to remind you why you fell in love with it in the first place. The post Ridgelines: Finding my bearings on Park Peak appeared first on Park Record. ...read more read less