Tuesday, January 18, 2005

The Promise of a Powder Day

The silence of light snow falling can be deafening. While the peaceful tranquility builds on the roads, trees and ski slopes (out west, it's the bowls and mountains), the inner noise builds. One finds oneself checking and double-checking to see that all the preparations are in place.

Is lunch made? Did I set the alarm? Who is going to meet me? Who am I going to have to ditch? Where should I ski first? Where will the last pile of freshies be? Are my skis waxed? Do I really care? Avalanche transceiver (out west only)? Where will I park to get the best pow? Can I bribe a liftie to get me up sooner? Which boards should I use? Gee, I hope the tram/lift line won't be too bad. Will the upper area be open? What if it's too windy and I have to adjust my plan? How are the trees today? How about the upper traverse? Will the backcountry gates be open? If so, which ones and how will that adjust my plan?

As the snow piles up and the shoveling is done for the night, the noise gets louder, pop in a Ramones or Clash CD and watch some ski flicks. Then, think about what I am going to be missing tomorrow. I need to get a hold of this person, that person, got to get their order in. Run to the laptop, get some work done.

In the morning, grab the lunch, race to the car, drive ski-boots-on, rush to the hill, stash the lunch, grab the closest spot in line and ride the chair. Race off the chair and head to your powder stash, hope no one has seen you. Flash the line and then hope you can get back up quick enough to grab a second and third run before the yahoos track it all out.

Repeat!

That's the promise of a powder day, whether it's Fernie, Sunshine Village, Lake Louise, Kicking Horse, Squaw Valley USA, Alpine Meadows, Kirkwood, Sugarbowl, that's my routine. Hopefully, this routine will reoccur soon.