By Christopher Steiner

updated 1:08 p.m. ET Feb. 2, 2007

It's 4,139 feet down from the top of the slope at Jackson Hole Mountain. The first 25 feet are worst.

No ski resort in North America has a chute so legendary as Corbet's Couloir in Wyoming — a crucible where skiers go to prove their mettle (or more often, to retreat in fear). The run is named for Barry Corbet, a mountaineer who in 1960 spotted a narrow crease of snow shaped like an upside-down funnel, high up on the mountain now known as Jackson Hole. Said he: "Someday someone will ski that."

In 1967 someone did — ski patroller Lonnie Ball. Today crack skiers seek to emulate his feat. Few emerge from the first 25 feet still on their skis.

You enter the chute's narrow, flinty mouth in free fall, dropping two stories onto a 55-degree slope. Fail to execute a hard right turn immediately, and you smash into a face of Precambrian rock. Survive, and you then smear speed by executing two nervy turns, exiting down a 45-degree slope as the chute fans out.

The rest of Jackson Hole Mountain lives up to this teaser. The elevation drop (4,139 feet — unmatched in the U.S.) plays out down an abrupt, serrated stretch of the Rocky Mountains' Teton Range.

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Last March a group of eight skiers braved Corbet's Couloir, having enrolled in what Jackson Hole Mountain Resort calls its Steep & Deep Camp — a four-day guide-assisted program meant to push participants' skills to the limit. Four of our group, on their first attempt on Corbet's, wrecked spectacularly, their skis and bodies pinwheeling.

The first turn is the problem: Skiers have gained so much speed so quickly that some panic and try to stop; this tactic is unwise at 40 mph on so steep a slope. I barely survived, landing in the couloir in a cloud of snow and detritus and almost losing control. But with a twist of my body and some luck, I held on and emerged to plant a reasonably assertive tandem of turns, then skied out the chute. As Steep & Deep's coaches say, "Don't stop — stand up and ski!"

Snowbird Ski & Summer Resort Skiers spy the Silverfox chute beneath them while riding Snowbird's tram. Its fresh powder beckons. Many tram riders plan to find it on their skis — few do.

Steep & Deep campers ride with a coach in pods of three or four, grouped by skill level. All campers are already expert skiers. The camp, held four times a year, normally culminates on its fourth day with a shot at Corbet's. Most campers take a reconnaissance peek down the couloir's lip, then elect not to jump. That almost a third of my camp (8 skiers out of 27) did jump was some kind of percentage record, I was told.

The camp's cost, $860, includes lift tickets (otherwise $72 a day) and decadent lunches served by waiters in a rustic cabin tucked far away from Jackson Hole's crowds. These lunches, though, are where the pampering begins and ends. Camp coaches aren't shy about shoving skiers far outside their comfort zones. "That's why you're here, right?" says Richard Lee, head coach, to a roomful of campers the night before skiing starts. His question elicits nervous smiles.

Jackson prides itself on making its customers squirm. An infamous warning sign at the summit reads in part: "Our mountain is like nothing you have skied before! It is huge. You could become lost. You could make a mistake and suffer personal injury or death. Give this special mountain the respect it demands!" You won't find such blunt warnings at slopes owned by publicly traded companies like Intrawest (Copper Mountain, Whistler) or Vail Resorts (Beaver Creek, Heavenly, Vail).

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