The first rays of dawn cast a thin white rim around Mt. Allen and Mt. Ogden as I wound my way into the twisty, turny curves of Weber Canyon. The road was quiet, the sky just beginning to soften from indigo to pale blue. It looked like a bluebird day in the offing — crisp and clear — the kind of morning that makes even the rolling cruisers feel exhilarating beneath the jagged alpine peaks of Snowbasin. It was road trip time, an opportunity to feel like a tourist on a ski holiday close to home. No flights. No jet lag. Just a tank of gas and the anticipation of a fresh new day on the slopes. It was easy for us to fall in love with Ogden when we moved to Utah nearly 40 years ago. Ogden is, well, a little different than the rest of Utah. The legendary railroad town — once the crossroads of the West when big steam engines thundered through town — still carries a rough-and-tumble edge along historic 25th Street. There’s history in the building bricks and heritage in the sidewalks. I stepped out of my hotel into the cold night air, heading toward La Ferrovia Italian Ristorante for some hearty lasagna and a glass of red wine. I hadn’t walked even 10 steps when I stumbled into a Friday night German festival — an Oktoberfest in January, no less. The Hof German Fest was celebrating its 40th anniversary, honoring Ogden’s sister city of Hof, Germany. The brightly lit exposition hall lacked the creaky charm of a century-old Bavarian brauerei, but it was packed with families and kids, bundled up and beaming, enjoying authentic German food and quaffing liters of Utah-brewed German-style beer. I grabbed a Red Rock Grand Bavaria, loaded up a plate with schnitzel, rotkohl, spätzle, and brötchen, and settled in at a long table. Soon, the Salzburger Echo alphorns began to play, their deep, resonant tones delighting a wide-eyed circle of kids on the dance floor. For a moment, I was transported — imagining myself in a warm German stube, staring out the window up at the Zugspitze in Garmisch-Partenkirchen.  Who would have known that a random winter evening in Ogden could feel like Bavarian ski trip? I was out the door early the next morning, hoping to snag one of the first gondola cabins up the mountain. What a gorgeous day to ski. After paying homage to the Snowbasin moose — still standing guard at the base — I decided I wasn’t quite ready for the Grizzly downhill off John Paul. Instead, I settled into a seat on the Needles gondola, letting the mountain come to me. With all due respect to Alta and Snowbird, there is no more spectacular mountaintop in Utah than standing amid the reddish quartzite crags of the Needles along the ridgeline just east of Mt. Ogden. It has that unmistakable alpine feel — the jagged silhouettes and high, open air that remind me of the peaks I’ve come to know and love deep in the heart of the Alps. Looking northward, the view opened into a vast, snow-covered panorama: Ben Lomond rising proudly, Powder Mountain standing out across the horizon, and the Monte Cristo Divide pulling eyes eastward. Sometimes I find myself utterly enraptured by geography, envisioning how all these ridges and valleys fit together like a giant relief map.  But eventually, it was time to ski. With Strawberry still waiting for a generous visit from Mother Nature, all trails seemed to funnel toward the Middle Bowl Express. While waiting for friends from Michigan, I slid over via the Strawberry Traverse to one of my favorites, Dan’s Run, carving big, sweeping turns down to the lift. Once my Yooper friends arrived, we clicked back in and spent the morning lapping the playful rolls and drops of Sweet Revenge. Midday, we ducked into Needles Lodge, a giant log cabin on a mountaintop. Massive spruce columns rose around us, framing mind-boggling views of the valley far below from windowside tables. We sipped hot chocolate, thawed our fingers, and traded stories of past winters, great runs, and near misses, as only skiers can do. It was a great day on the mountain, the kind that reminds you why winter matters. I did, however, regret missing that lasagna the night before. The post Ridgelines: Road trip to Snowbasin appeared first on Park Record. ...read more read less