chasing it.
saw the weather, saw the reports
on Friday, it looked gnarly, burly.
Road's closed, Emergency! Delay
the commute to a very relaxed
Saturday lunchish departe'.
Super chill driving ensued,
until the Mt Storm, then it
became increasingly winterlike,
neat.
Make the quick rounds in the lodge
and out into it, post 5ish, headlamp
in pocket. Find mystical howling
quietness & solitude atop the knob,
trusting veritgo instinct here and
there, along with the directional nose
to guide thru Gladed Chaga in the
dark before minimal wattage mainslope
whoopage that caused a second lap to
be seriously considered.
Bail at 7 for apres' and stokage building
Barry's World rappin' before Icebox movie
night and petrified motionless log sleep
until the sun comes up. Love the ski
morning rythmn, filling the belly with
goodness, oatmeal, eggs. Stoke the oven
to head out once more. Perfect call celly
ring ring timing hooks it up with Carp and
spancer him with Guides + skins. Weary
legs happy to follow a quick learning
partner, putting in a sick direct route
skinny to the Funnel.
Morning firsties off the Face then on
down into Springer and Flatrock to
set the lowpoint for the escalator.
Multiple laps of blissfulness ensued.
Powder on the faces when milking
sweet tree shadow whaleback drifts
and drops...3, 4 laps?? where's the
gps, where's my mind? nevermind,
just keep pushing left and combat
ski hands up w/ dancing feet thru
brushy rabbitholes revealing Tennis
Courts or Rock Star gullies of
consistent knee deep to BallzzDeep!
coverage. Occasionaly finding pockets
to envelope your chest in the corniced
creekbeds.
Refuel on a late lunch via a mainslope
run, split nachos and a pitcher and out
for a hot lap, which streched on up into
BaldySteeps.
'dude, we're all but there...'
ok.
yeah, it. was. money.
Well worth the efforted traverse
back to Roundtop. Last run, hit
the big jump off the other corner
and kept it together. Just keep
it tight, feet under ya, and poof...
silent stompage and run it out in
a somewhat controlled bounding GS
groove from one fluffy lump to the
next. Hit Chipper's impromtu PB jump
and feel orbital sensations, but
probably only 8ish feet in the air.
POP!
poof.
yeah...like a porpoise.
another shared apres pitcher with
friends, big oatmeal raisin cafe'
cookie and an inspired drive home,
back into the here and now...
anybody look at the forecast recently?
