Noah's Adventures

Located only two miles past the bustling Stevens Pass ski resort, Yodelin is an unassuming wooded zone chock-full of classic PNW tree skiing. Yodelin’s backcountry terrain encompasses the Northwest and Southeast slopes of the colorfully named Weldigger’s Ass (5,273 ft) and Mt. Weird (5,023 ft). Today the area serves as a haven for storm-day backcountry skiing, but behind the tranquil winter scenery lies a tragic history.

I set out on the morning of December 31st with Holt, eager to capitalize on the deep Cascadian powder before returning to Vermont. With high avalanche danger from a recent storm cycle, we chose Yodelin for its mellower slopes and dense tree cover. As we pulled into the parking lot around 8:30 am, the sun was just peeking over the mountains and cast a golden light on the surrounding peaks.

Upon arriving, another party approached me and asked what we were planning to ski. I did my best to sound like a local, and threw around some technical backcountry jargon. Turns out, it was their first time here too— so much for all my big talk.

We booted up and got started on the skin track, beginning right past the original Tyrolian-style base lodge. The lower elevations took us through groves of slide alder that gave way to more dense new-growth conifers.

As we ascended up to the ridge line, we scoped out lines for the afternoon. Thick forest gave way to a sloping meadow full of pillows and a potential for a dreamy descent. Up until the early seventies, a double chairlift serviced this very zone.

Our objective for the day was to score some good snow on Yodelin’s backside before making our way down the front again. Reaching the saddle, the tree cover diminished but the cloud cover did not. To our left the slope ascended toward the summit of Weldigger’s Ass, which was dotted with charred trees from a past wildfire. The day’s overcast conditions culminated in a captivating scene, a clash between charcoal and snow.

The two of us re-entered old growth forest at the summit. The conifers were plastered with snow that stuck to bark and boughs. I consulted the map and we transitioned to ski mode. Ahead of us was a gentle slope with well-spaced trees and about a foot of fresh pow.

Our first run of the day was excellent— knee-deep, moderately light powder amongst a backdrop of gladed meadows. We found a small 4-foot pillow and took turns dropping it. It was a truly playful descent, evidenced by the hoots and cheers that cut through the silence of the forest.

At about 4500 ft, the quality of the snow diminished. The bottomless turns from earlier shifted to a firmer freeze-thaw base with only inches between the surface and the icy crust. At this point, we made the call to throw on skins again and climb to the ridge. We’d dropped below the so called “end” of the line and there wasn’t a skin track in sight.

Luckily, we soon found a half-buried track, and in doing so proudly declared that we were the first ones to ski the line that day. The climb was swift; soon we reached the saddle and not long after, stood at the top of the burned section.

We spent the next hour taking laps in the untracked Yodeling burn— a sparkly-treed section of fall line skiing. These were our favorite runs of the day, filled with effortless turns on a blank white canvas.

Eventually we made the call to make our return run to the car. The return journey was a haphazard navigation with a healthy dose of bushwhacking over variable snow. Towards the bottom of the slope, we passed by what looked like a chairlift terminal building, a remnant of a bygone era.

Yodelin opened to skiers in December of 1969, but was shuttered not much later in 1974. Despite warnings from UW researchers about the region’s avalanche danger, developers built a small base village. One devastating day in 1971, a massive avalanche crushed two cabins and killed four people, injuring 8 more. This catastrophe, paired with burgeoning competition from Stevens Pass ski area, ultimately led to the closure of the beloved Yodelin area in 1974.

Skidding back into the parking lot, I glanced up at the lodge that once served this very ski area. Our day was undoubtedly filled with stellar turns, but also held an air of mystery and solitude. The spirit of Yodelin lives on, a quiet reminder of nature’s silent yet overwhelming power.