By Colin Meagher

January 1, 1999

Touching down in Phoenix really punctuated the change of environment. Takeoff that morning had been conducted amidst a Seattle downpour so heavy I doubted we'd be cleared to fly. Now, a scant few hours later, I was walking around in shorts and a T-shirt, gawking at cacti. In all directions-nothing but sand, rocks, and cactus. Not exactly what comes to mind when visualizing a snowboard destination. I reflected on why I made it one as I grabbed the rental: El Ni�o was sending wave after wave of late-season storms into California, in turn leaving the Pacific Northwest's snowpack a bit on the lean side.

There'd been good days, but if that Pacific menace was intent on making conditions perfect for Cascade Concrete at home, we'd simply follow the jet stream out of the Northwest and deep into the deserts of the Southwest. "Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore," mused Jane Mauser, loading her gear into our minivan. Bruce Mullinax and Travis Thompson had similar reactions as they each landed in Phoenix and piled in. We headed north to Flagstaff, rising steadily toward the San Francisco Peaks, home of the Arizona Snowbowl. Cactus and cottonwoods gave way to thick ponderosa pines as we rolled into Flagstaff-"Flag," as the locals say-a high-Alpine college town at the foot of magnificent San Franciscos, a series of four pyramids that are all that remains of an ancient volcano. Snowbowl lies nestled on the fringe of a thick pine forest, sprawling up two of the four San Francisco Peaks-Humphries and Agassiz. Humphries Peak is the highest point in Arizona, topping out at 12,760 feet, and Flagstaff's not too far down at around 7,000 feet. Arriving in town after dark, we checked into a hotel and immediately headed out. Flag is the home of Northern Arizona University, a small but lively school that began as a teacher's college and now pushes its hotel and restaurant management program.

The school makes for a wide range of restaurant options, from country barbecue to Thai cuisine, with most of the places concentrated in Flagstaff's historic downtown. The Mexican food is legendary, but in the mood for Italian, we chose Stromboli's on the edge of town for calzones big as your head. We found the evening's amusement at the bar of the historic Hotel Monte Vista, where the funky crowd keeps things interesting. The next morning we discovered that El Ni�o was throwing a temper tantrum, and unfortunately the howling winds and puking snow forced lift closure at Snowbowl. Presented with the perfect opportunity to explore lower elevations, we weighed our options. Arizona's full of history, containing more national monuments and parks than any other state. For centuries, the great Hopi and Navajo tribes flourished here, and their cultural influence is hard to miss.

We could also head to the Grand Canyon, which gaped open an hour and a half northwest of us. Forty-five minutes to the south was Sedona, home of red sandstone cliffs and starry-eyed New Age mysticism. The heavy snow simplified our choices-the Grand Canyon in zero visibility, or a mysto storm mission to Sedona, cultural center of weirdness? In no time, we were on our way down highway 89 to Sedona. Getting there, however, required white-knucklin' it down a series of tight, steep switchbacks. Through the rapidly falling snow and hairpin turns, we focused our collective auras on keeping the vehicle on the road. Then the suffocating clouds and mist began to break apart, revealing soaring buttresses of red rock dusted with new snow. The incredible landscape was like nothing any of us had seen. We cruised Sedona's mix of galleries, espresso stands, and more crystal stores and mystical offerings than we could shake a snowboard at. Admittedly, Sedona's beauty is unearthly, particularly under a layer of fresh snow, but if local sources are to be believed, it's also home to alternative phasing realities, extra-terrestrial outposts, dimensional vortexes, and portals to parallel universes.

The X-Files should be based here. Sedona gives off a certain mystical vibe, that's for sure, but mostly it's the people who are weird. It might be the heat, maybe the local peyote. Either way, if no one wants to talk about it for fear of alien bounty hunters, consider yourself lucky the subject is closed. The storm lasted 28 hours, and two feet of fresh snow waited for us on the hill. Ty Smith, a friend of Jane's and our local guide, was stoked to show us around the mountain for the next few days, so we hurried up to Snowbowl. There are four chairs in all at Arizona Snowbowl. Operations are centered out of two lodges at the base of what was once the volcanic crater that created the San Francisco Peaks.

Resort boundaries fan out from the base up the slopes of Humphries and Agassiz Peaks, with the broad face of Upper Bowl in between. The bulk of the resort development lies on Agassiz-two chairlifts service that side, which includes a well-maintained snowboard park off the lower Sunset chair. There are two beginner chairs on Humphries. The longest lift, the Agassiz triple, won't win any speed records, but the rewards are worth the wait. Sweeping views of Flag and the state, including the rim of the Grand Canyon, greet those arriving at the top. While the marked trails are fun, the lines through the trees are some of the finest anywhere and definitely the locals' favorite flavor. From the top of Agassiz, it's possible to stay on the Spur catwalk and work an outstanding section of trees. High traverse lines lead into Upper Bowl, and even onto the shoulder of Humphries. True diehards hike to the top and relish long, blissful runs down the face of Humphries or Agassiz. A chair is planned for Humphries, but not until after a full environmental impact statement is published. Many Native Americans consider the Peaks sacred and don't want the resort there at all. In addition, a variety of Alpine lichen grows only on these volcanic rocks and it's feared that further development will endanger the species. Those who visit the San Francisco Peaks usually fall in love, but hopefully the masses won't love the Peaks to death with overbearing development. You can ride down the back side of the Peaks into East Flagstaff. With it's steeper terrain and more cliff drops, many wish the resort would have been built on this side in the first place. If you ride the back side, make sure to arrange for someone to pick you up. This may seem like a waste of time when you can do laps on the lifts instead, but when the weekend warriors have tracked out the resort, fresh back side bounty awaits the resourceful rider.

All too soon, our time in Arizona ran out. On the return flight to Seattle, I happened to be on the right side of the plane to see northern Arizona slide by below. First Sedona, in all its fantastical beauty, lay beneath me. Beyond it, the Grand Canyon loomed large. Between the two reared the San Francisco Peaks, shimmering in bright rays of Arizona sun. As we blew past, sated on the powder runs we'd mined, I fancied I could even see the lines we cut that very afternoon, sparkling in the sun like the fine grooves of a brilliant gem. A pleasure to admire, a sin to ignore. Finer Points: From Phoenix, you can rent a car or catch a bus cheaper than the half-hour commuter flight into Flagstaff. Numerous hotels are available. Calling the Arizona Snowbowl at (520) 779-1951 will net you current conditions and a list of accommodations. In Flagstaff, head to AZP (owned by Mike Batt and ex-pro/snowboard-park mastermind Brian Harper) for all your snowboarding needs. Food and beverages are available in quantity, as Flag is a college town. Flagstaff, Mogollon, and Beaver Street are all pubs that brew their own suds. Alpine Pizza offers good pie and cheap beer, and Martan's or El Charro can curl your hair with Mexican eats. Other than that, you're on your own. Explore. Enjoy.