I woke up (at 11 *guilty face*) this morning to oodles of text messages informing me of the four inches of fresh powder that had fallen during the course of the night. So naturally I sprang out of bed, only to find that everyone was already at the mountain (so surprised) and I had missed the best of the powder morning. Not to be discouraged, I figured packed powder was better than ice and I made my way over to the slopes. Having mastered and been bored by the open green runs over the last couple days, and sick of almost hitting little children sitting in the middle of the narrow, icy path, it seemed the perfect time to venture over to the open blue.
On the third run of the day, third day of skiing, I found myself at the top of Larry Sales, peering down a slope a bit steeper than I had been expecting. Piles of powder and small patches of ice stared back at me. Luckily it was too late to turn around, all though my pride had already gotten the better of me and I was pumped and ready to go. On that first run I made the mistake of trying to turn in the middle of pile of powder and found myself staring the snow in the face. No worries; I got right back up and continued on my way. After briefly stopping to take off my goggles (it was pretty shady and I couldn’t see very well), I looked down and realized a huge icy stretch lay ahead. Well, I couldn’t very well expect to take it easy going down there – quick turns and stops were out of the question on that slick mess. “F*** it,” I shouted to my friend, and went for it.
Such thrills! That was all the boost my confidence needed, and after two more blue runs sans falls my quads were ready to quit on me. It’s only November and here I am, hitting the blues…I can only imagine what December will hold.
Anyway, I must now turn my full attention to my grilled cheese sitting right here (homemade bread, portobellos, spinach, and Tillamook cheddar) and dream about the days of skiing to come.