I grew up at one of those fabled local hills.
As I grew up I began to drift away from Baldy.
I skied at bigger, more famous hills.
They were steeper, and had more snow, and faster chairlifts.
On paper those hills seemed a heck of a lot better than ol Baldy.
Last winter, I had a chance to go back to my home hill on a Saturday afternoon.
I had been seriously sick with mono for a few months, and was just regaining my skiing legs.
It was the best day I had all year.
Downhill skiing started out as a sport for the masses.
Somewhere along the way, things changed.
People began skiing to impress others.
Luxury was the focus, not skiing.
Yes, somewhere along the line the soul of skiing was lost.
Yet there are holdouts.
At these hills, no one cares if you ski in your old oil stained Polaris snowmobile jacket.
Straight skis are still seen regularly, as are one piece suits.
The season is short; really only from Christmas until March.
The locals are grizzled - most have spent their winters at the hill since they were kids.
No one cares if you have the most modern gear heck theyre impressed if you even have gear.
The bottom line is everyone is just out having fun, and loves to ski.
The soul of skiing lives at the ends of dirt roads in small towns worldwide.
I dream about skiing all summer and get to live my dream all winter.
