For some of us it’s more of a gut feeling then a quantifiable event.
For a few months during the summer opening day almost seems like an unattainable dream, a mythical event.
Summer jokes about trying for first chair come back to haunt me as I pack my gear.
Two and a half hours separate me from the mountains but sleep is for old people and gapers.
The roads are clear and I make good time blasting NPR and watching the sun rise.
The only thing between me and the lift line is the season pass office.
A lone man on an AT setup skins past us, up a groomer.
Lift line
Lunch in the lodge,Got Leverage?
Finally the bell rings and we start to load.
At the top months of dreaming become reality as we make our first turns of the season.
Unused muscles start to scream and old techniques come back subconsciously.
I stop and shoot photos for a while, watching tricks get stomped and egos get flattened.
Progression is alive and well here, even on day one.
The runs start to blend together into one foggy mass of leg pain.
I am out of shape and my form falls apart as my muscles burn out.
I make it to the last chair and ski patrol has to chase me off the mountain.
Finally his shift is over and it is time for me to retreat to my car.
A few hours of less then comfortable sleep are a small price to pay for views like this.
Ski season is here and all is right with the world for now.
On my way home I finally stopped at Wolf People.
I have driven past this place every time I have gone skiing for years and never stopped.
It was definitely worth it.
