A common occurrence when skiing is to finish up our tour right as another party is starting theirs. When they ask what time we started, they often shake their heads in dismay at the response.
Here’s the thing, though, I HATE getting up that early. Some days it’s easier than others, but it’s never actually easy. I just hate the feeling I have when I’ve missed a really good day even more than I hate getting up. In fact, I not only hate that feeling, I hate myself for the decision that led to that feeling. I still haven’t forgiven myself for choosing to race Hell of the North instead of skiing. I probably never will.
This morning was one of those mornings when getting up was especially difficult. The alarm went off, and I was dazed and confused for a minute trying to figure out what was even going on. I thought real hard about not getting out of bed, but then I thought of the fresh snow, and the hate I was already feeling for myself drove me off of the mattress.
Apparently the hate was strong this morning, because the parking lot was full. We had nine in our party, so we split up. Not by design, just be default. Mike H. was setting the pace. His pace breaking trail had me at my limit just trying to follow. Mike likes to talk about how hard he struggles to keep up with Bart and the Samurai. That may be the case, because those guys are uber fast. But for some reason I think I should be able to hang with Mike, even though I can’t. Maybe it’s because we race bikes in the same category. Regardless, the boy has a motor.
Dug’s son Ian also joined us this morning for his second tour ever. His fifteen-year-old legs got him up the hill without much difficulty, and he has no problem whatever getting back down. I’m thinking he may become a regular. His teachers will understand, right? If not, I guess home school is an option.
The skiing was good, but I have no proof. Memory card was full, so no pics. Winds at the top were fierce. Windward slopes were scoured, cornices were growing, and we saw two of them that had broken off and triggered slides. Fortunately the slope wasn’t steep enough for the slides to run, which is precisely why we chose that spot.
As nice as the storm has been so far, apparently the best is yet to come, with up to three additional feet expected by Sunday morning. I may have to worship at the church of the blue dome again this week.