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Corbet’s Couloir
P owderhouse Hill might not be great for thrill-seekers, but conversely, Corbet’s Couloir in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, is a must-miss spot for anyone who would prefer not to meet their doom on skis.
Ranked fourth on Skiing Magazine ’s 2006 list of “Top 50 Things ALL Skiers Must Do Before They Die,” the couloir sits at the top of Jackson Hole’s Rendezvous Mountain, which has the greatest continuous rise of any ski slope in the United States. If you scoot yourself up to the edge of the couloir, you’ll see a narrow chute lined with jagged rocks, but be careful. The first person to ski Corbet’s was a ski patroller who accidentally fell into it after the cornice he was standing on collapsed.
Skiers who push themselves off the edge deliberately have a ten- to thirty-foot leap of faith (i.e., free fall) onto a fifty-five-degree slope, at which point they have to immediately hit a very hard right turn, lest they “smash into a face of Precambrian rock,” as one Corbet survivor described it. The chute eventually flattens to a mere forty-five-degree angle, but few people even make it to that point; watch videos of Corbet attempts and you’ll acquire a newfound appreciation for the many different ways in which one can wipe out on skis.
These videos also give a vivid example of how easily humans—especially those who are young and male—can be convinced to do stupid things. My favorite begins with a group of college-aged guys standing at the top of the cliff asking one another if he is going to ski it. “Fuck that,” says one. “I kind of want to vomit,” says another. Then someone hurls himself off the edge. His buddies, now convinced that not jumping off the cliff will mean they have no testicles, follow. The next scene is in a hospital.
But despite the toll Corbet’s must take on Jackson Hole’s ski patrol, the mountain itself is making a profit off of those foolish enough to attempt the run. A special Steep and Deep Ski Camp offers elite skiers a chance to spend four days on a guide-assisted program tackling some of Jackson Hole’s most challenging terrain, culminating in a chance to try Corbet’s. Proof of how reckless one must be to ski it: despite having paid nearly a thousand dollars to participate in the program, most Steep and Deep participants decide not to try.
If we expand our stupid-places-to-ski adventure outside the United States, the editors at Skiing Magazine have told me there is one clear winner: Bec des Rosses in Vernier, Switzerland. It’s home of a yearly Xtreme Verbier Freeride event that’s considered the most prestigious in the world. Imagine skiing down one of the mountains on an Evian bottle: a 1,650-foot north face, lots of exposed rock, and a slope that gets up to fifty-five degrees (that is, when you’re not in free fall). As professional skier Shroder Baker put it, “It’s a huge cheese-grating monster, with sharp jagged rocks all the way down.”
Chapter 31 The Grover Cleveland Service Area
I ’d actually recommend not seeing any of the rest stops along the New Jersey Turnpike, each of which is named for a notable person who was born or lived in the state. The Thomas Edison Starbucks, the James Fenimore Cooper Burger King—call me un-American, but I think there’s something inherently depressing about Walt Whitman being commemorated by a Cinnabon franchise.
Daniel Modell
According to Looking for America on the New Jersey Turnpike —which itself might qualify as a Book Not to Read Before You Die —several rest stops have reputations that go beyond just convenient places to grab a cup of coffee. The Vince Lombardi area was once known as a hot spot for cruising gay men; anecdotal reports suggest that the Joyce Kilmer service area used to be frequented by prostitutes (they’ve now been supplanted by a Sbarro).
Graced with branches of Popeye’s, Pizza Hut Express, and, in the case of Woodrow Wilson, a Blimpie, what does impress me about these
P owderhouse Hill might not be great for thrill-seekers, but conversely, Corbet’s Couloir in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, is a must-miss spot for anyone who would prefer not to meet their doom on skis.
Ranked fourth on Skiing Magazine ’s 2006 list of “Top 50 Things ALL Skiers Must Do Before They Die,” the couloir sits at the top of Jackson Hole’s Rendezvous Mountain, which has the greatest continuous rise of any ski slope in the United States. If you scoot yourself up to the edge of the couloir, you’ll see a narrow chute lined with jagged rocks, but be careful. The first person to ski Corbet’s was a ski patroller who accidentally fell into it after the cornice he was standing on collapsed.
Skiers who push themselves off the edge deliberately have a ten- to thirty-foot leap of faith (i.e., free fall) onto a fifty-five-degree slope, at which point they have to immediately hit a very hard right turn, lest they “smash into a face of Precambrian rock,” as one Corbet survivor described it. The chute eventually flattens to a mere forty-five-degree angle, but few people even make it to that point; watch videos of Corbet attempts and you’ll acquire a newfound appreciation for the many different ways in which one can wipe out on skis.
These videos also give a vivid example of how easily humans—especially those who are young and male—can be convinced to do stupid things. My favorite begins with a group of college-aged guys standing at the top of the cliff asking one another if he is going to ski it. “Fuck that,” says one. “I kind of want to vomit,” says another. Then someone hurls himself off the edge. His buddies, now convinced that not jumping off the cliff will mean they have no testicles, follow. The next scene is in a hospital.
But despite the toll Corbet’s must take on Jackson Hole’s ski patrol, the mountain itself is making a profit off of those foolish enough to attempt the run. A special Steep and Deep Ski Camp offers elite skiers a chance to spend four days on a guide-assisted program tackling some of Jackson Hole’s most challenging terrain, culminating in a chance to try Corbet’s. Proof of how reckless one must be to ski it: despite having paid nearly a thousand dollars to participate in the program, most Steep and Deep participants decide not to try.
If we expand our stupid-places-to-ski adventure outside the United States, the editors at Skiing Magazine have told me there is one clear winner: Bec des Rosses in Vernier, Switzerland. It’s home of a yearly Xtreme Verbier Freeride event that’s considered the most prestigious in the world. Imagine skiing down one of the mountains on an Evian bottle: a 1,650-foot north face, lots of exposed rock, and a slope that gets up to fifty-five degrees (that is, when you’re not in free fall). As professional skier Shroder Baker put it, “It’s a huge cheese-grating monster, with sharp jagged rocks all the way down.”
Chapter 31 The Grover Cleveland Service Area
I ’d actually recommend not seeing any of the rest stops along the New Jersey Turnpike, each of which is named for a notable person who was born or lived in the state. The Thomas Edison Starbucks, the James Fenimore Cooper Burger King—call me un-American, but I think there’s something inherently depressing about Walt Whitman being commemorated by a Cinnabon franchise.
Daniel Modell
According to Looking for America on the New Jersey Turnpike —which itself might qualify as a Book Not to Read Before You Die —several rest stops have reputations that go beyond just convenient places to grab a cup of coffee. The Vince Lombardi area was once known as a hot spot for cruising gay men; anecdotal reports suggest that the Joyce Kilmer service area used to be frequented by prostitutes (they’ve now been supplanted by a Sbarro).
Graced with branches of Popeye’s, Pizza Hut Express, and, in the case of Woodrow Wilson, a Blimpie, what does impress me about these
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