TOUR FOR THE CURE: A Mission For Breast Cancer Research

Go HERE for a complete gallery of images from this trip.

It wasn’t the fact that Kelly Holland dragged up a bottle of champagne to 10,000 feet, it was the little touch of bringing the plastic champagne glasses as well.

“I want to thank all of you girls for coming on this trip,” she said holding up her glass. “It means a lot. My mom is a breast cancer survivor.”

Her 10 companions — Rachael Burks, Hannah Whitney, Tanya Christensen, Phillipa Hunt, Molly Baker, Rebecca Selig, Quincy Young, Jess Kunzer, Re Wikstrom and Vanessa Pierce — on the first annual Backcountry Tour for the Cure clinked classes to celebrate hiking four-ish hours up Little Cottonwood Canyon’s Maybird Gulch. The mission for the weekend was to raise some cash for breast cancer research and the Susan B. Komen Foundation and celebrate being alive by skiing the Hypodermic Needle.

During the champagne toast, the group admired the pink rings and Mardi Gras beads that Holland had handed out. The thought of a frigid night spent shivering in tents, spooning each other wasn’t on anyone’s mind—just yet. For a group that hadn’t ever experienced winter camping, it was about enjoying this moment. We had found the only loose rocks in the area, a dead tree and our brains to build a fire; we were pigging out on pad thai, tofu and veggies that Holland had prepared; and we had dragged up enough liquor to get a small army drunk. There we were under the picturesque Pfeiferhorn. Our campsite was magical; it was just us up there, drinking, eating, and telling stories and laughing around our campfire.

As we found out, sometimes it is the journey, not the destination that matters. Here was a group of some of the baddest girl rippers in the industry who decided to put aside catty competitiveness to be present, to be grateful for the life of friends and family. Any of these women could ski the Hypodermic Needle — a 35-56 degree chute in Little Cottonwood Canyon, but this trip was about the journey, not about proving who is the best damn skier out there. With the open mindset, these women came away with new friends and more laughs than imaginable.

“Look at our tracks,” said Burks pointing to the only four turns we skied the next day. “Here’s to you, here’s to me. We fucking slayed this mountain.”

Well, we certainly slayed a few things during our 25-hour trek, such as the amount of liquor we drank, the length of time we slept, how much gear we could possibly drag up the mountain (most notable was Burks’ Sorels) — but probably not the skiing we did. After a frigid 10-degree night—a night that was saved by the advice of Wikstrom who said we should boil water for our Nalgenes and then put them between our legs while we slept—we tried to accomplish our main goal, which was to ski the Needle. We weren’t even close.

After packing up our campsite on Sunday morning, the group finally headed out at 11 a.m. to skin up the ridge to scope out the line. It looked like death. The corn cycle hadn’t started in the Wasatch yet, and the chute was a mess of roller balls and mank. None of us were agro enough to risk our lives that warm afternoon. Looking at the beautiful view, someone said, “Let’s take some glam turns.” The snow looked amazing, and though we botched our Needle mission, we weren’t about to botch skiing at least a few turns in a creamy looking bowl — what we deemed the Pfeifer Pass.

In honor of having breasts and our mission to save as many as possible, part of the group decided to end the weekend with a bang — or more appropriately — a bust. With only an avy beacon as a holster, the women skied topless down a short pitch and only slowed down when they came to the rest of the girls who were laughing and bewildered at their skiing shenanigans.

“That was more liberating than I thought,” said Selig, who was the first one to strip down when the girls were debating whether to ski in sports bras or go topless. After she went for it, the decision was clear.

Back at the campsite, the girls grabbed their stashed gear and headed home, milking a few last creamy turns along the way. To everyone’s excitement, local photographer Adam Clark had left a 12-pack of PBR in Burks’ truck bed. “This beer beats a PBR after biking the Porcupine Rim Trail,” she said.

And the truth is, it surely did.

Thanks to Peak Performance, Backcountry.com and Shejumps.org for supporting the annual Backcountry Tour for the Cure.

Facts and stats (compiled by Re Wikstrom)

Number of inspiring women who toured for the cure: 11

White Pine Parking Lot elevation: 7,670 feet

Small Pass (Maybird into Hogum, end of tour) elevation: 10,275 feet

Maybird Gulch Base Camp elevation: 10,100 feet

Bottles of champagne consumed at 10,000 feet: 1

Overnight temp low: Approximately 10-15 degrees F

Number of confused men who needed photographic proof of ripping girls in the backcountry: 2

Total trip time: approximately 25 hours

Number of cold beers delivered by Adam Clark and waiting in the parking lot for our return: 12

Laughs: roughly eleventy-billion ... squared

Camp names for the girls:

Kelly "Baby Got Pack" Holland
Vanessa "VD" Pierce
Vanessa "Bobsled" Piece
Hannah "Pro Camper" Whitney
Rachael "The Lost Tourist" Burks
Rachael "R2D2" Burks
Rachael "I swear I'm Dex and you're T.J." Burks
Rebecca "Fire Killer" Selig
Molly "5 Star" Baker
Jess "Loves the Jack" Kunzer
Jess "Theater Major" Kunzer
Quincy "The Hot Water Saved My Life" Young
Tanya "The Tiger" Christensen
Tanya "Sleepwalker" Christensen
Pip "I Didn't Like These Boots Anyway" Hunt

Go HERE for a complete gallery of images from this trip.