My Thursday and Friday went just about exactly as I'd described them in my last post. Saturday night it hammered down the snow in a wicked way starting about 4p. It put down 6" in 3 hours time, the winds whipped, and chaos reigned. I was pretty happy to not have to drive 35 miles over five mountains to get back home! Temperatures plummeted to well below zero, the "real feel" dropping below -40°F due to wicked winds. Yet despite it all, the sun was shining Sunday.
So, because I'm crazy - a fact that shouldn't be lost on long-time readers - I skied in the bitter cold. Front country and side country at one of the mountains I work at for a few hours, and then we spurred off through the woods into some backcountry.
It. Was. Fabulous. I finally got to ski Bald Knob as I've wanted to do for years - so totally worth it. But what was better? Bombing down through some backcountry with my downhill gear on trails 5' to 25' in width - the widest of which didn't occur until the very end and only for a couple hundred yards. Zipping through the woods, dropping knees and flying past surprised nordic skiers on light gear was stellar!
At the bottom, a perma-grin adorned my face. The ski didn't cease at the bottom of just any hill, oh no. It ceased at Whitegrass - a nordic ski phenomena of the east. Through the doors of the barn-esque building, you'll find not only a rental and gear shop, but some of the greatest food around. And beer. I indulged on some good brews and food before scoring a quasi-hitchhiked ride back to my car with one of the owner's sons. What. A. Day.