Rainbow over the trees.
Mammoth Mountain, CA
Thanksgiving is traditionally the first ski day of the year for me. Even if the California weather doesn't deliver, Mammoth has the budget to make enough snow. Last season was a bit of an anomaly with deep billowing powder by Halloween, so I must admit that I was a little lackluster to make the long drive down the scenic 395. But since my cute girlfriend was eager for her first ski day ever, I charged south in my crippled Jeep.
The weather was cold and crisp, and the sun was bright and low in the late fall sky. The 2 new inches from Friday had blown away atop the slick icy layer. I caught my first run at 8:30 sharp and whoa was it icy. I had to work for my turns – imagine that. After one more slip sliding trip down, the snow snob in me kicked in and I reasoned that I wasn't missing anything by being on the bunny hill. I flew over to meet up with Chelsea as she was finishing up with her rental ordeal.
A natural! She was linking pizza turns on her first run down. I was so impressed with my future snow bunny. We made several laps down the bunny slopes before her lesson started. As I was trying to convey my skiing words of wisdom (always push your shins against the boots) my mind also started to wonder back to the rest of the mountain. Maybe I hadn't given the icy runs a chance. Maybe this was an opportunity to apply more forward pressure than I'd need for the rest of the season. Maybe I should try another lift. I started to get that anxious "there's good skiing to be had" feeling. I left her with Robert after he explained to me that her pizza was actually called a wedge.
I raced back up the mountain and started to explore some more. My confidence started to transfer into my edges and my Volkl P40s started to become really enjoyable. The sun and skiers were softening the snow ever so slightly and I was starting to link GS turns with speed. I then saw something wonderful. A skier or two had made the rocky traverse past the death slide of Cornice Bowl and into Drop Out 1. The snow looked like it was spraying high and I follow suit. Low and behold: wind packed velvety bliss. Oh my god was it good! Only about 8 turns worth, but it was smoother than I could have imagined for the day. This is skiing; this is why I love this sport and this windy mountain. I stopped at the bottom and noticed that the distant, snow sprinkled, Minarets had as much anticipation as I did for the upcoming season.
I made 4 or 5 more top-to-bottom, leg-burning gondola laps before I joined my ski bunny on Sesame Street. She was skiing with confidence, awe, and joy. I could sense the same trill that I had for the crisp mountain environment and the rollercoaster speed of skiing. She was hooked. I helped as she timidly conquered the scary blue of St Moritz a couple of times and then watched as she dominated the green east side of Sesame Street. We rounded out the day with a well-deserved soak in the hot tub, discussing how skiing is like yoga, and both are like life, and all of this combines into this great expedition of ours.
The forecast calls for 3 feet next week.
