So it finally snowed around here. A lot. Enough that I spent the entire work week biting my nails and plotting my escape. I probably checked the mountain weather forecast at least once an hour. Okay, okay, I lie. I checked it every 15 minutes.
And do you know what that forecast said? It said 28 to 32 inches was predicted on Friday.
TWENTY-EIGHT TO THIRTY-TWO INCHES.
Yeah, I couldn't turn that down either. I scheduled a sub.
It was so worth it. That massive pile of work I returned to on Monday? I would have worked twice as hard. The ski resort was empty. The turns were pretty epic. And Barkernews and I got to ski together since apparently daycare doesn't close for powder days (good policy, methinks). We also skied with Kurfis, who was all, "cool, yeah, I'll go there." And when we got a flat tire on the way home and didn't have the right thingy to tighten the bolts, was all, "cool, whatever." My 30th day on skis this season was incredible.
Then, on Saturday, Nate and Marissa came to play with me in the snow- 7 new inches of it. Barkernews had to work, but the snow was rad, so Hizz went straight to Meadows daycare while we skied and skied and skied. And then we skied some more. No joke, pregnant Marissa has twice the energy I have as non-pregnant NoPoGirl.
So, then Sunday happened. I popped some Ibuprofen, swore at my legs that if they behaved for one more day, I would let them rest, and drove back up to the mountain for the third time in as many days. Hizz went straight back to Meadows daycare and Barkernews and I went straight back to the business of skiing our asses off.
It was, hands down, the best day of the season. We searched for all of our secret spots because there? We found fresh tracks over and over and over again. When the Cascade chair opened at 2pm for the first time in days, we had our most poetic run of the year- complete virgin tracks down the whole of Upper Heather Canyon. It was splendid. And amazing. And unreal.
It was awesome.
At the bottom of that run, I collapsed in a heap. I was wicked tired. An alpine skier skied up to next to me and asked, "Is telemark skiing really that hard?" Barkernews heard the question and I was pretty sure he was trying really hard not to belittle the guy. My answer? "Imagine doing lunges over and over and over, all day long. On a yoga ball. For three straight days." Not that I was complaining. Telemarking in deep powder is akin to the most peaceful I have ever felt outdoors. I was just trying to answer the question honestly. And, admittedly, it was kind of a stupid question.
Then I went home and willed my legs to fall off. It didn't happen, but I did make sure to do absolutely nothing on Monday besides attack the massive pile of work I had to make up for Friday.
Unfortunately, there is a serious lack of photos. The snow was too good to even stop to pull out the camera. So, sorry, visual learners, you will just have to imagine feet upon feet of fresh, cold snow.
