Devil’s Crotch sounds delightful, doesn’t it? I don’t know what you picture when you think of a Devil’s Crotch but it ain’t good. The plummeting verticality of Niagara Falls crossed with the smell of chicken thighs left in a warm car for three days, perhaps? Apparently the piste is pretty gnarly too. Narrow, icy, ungroomed moguls. Where do we sign up?
