[I wrote this story in Fall 2022 after skinning up Bridger in early November snow. Forgot all about it until recently. ]
Skinning up on a perfect early April powder day
Welcome skiers to your field of dreams. Deep days are coming. Daydreams will soon be reality…
It’s early season, the first snows have fallen, are packed down. Icy base where the cats have been, brush and rocks are thick outside groomed trails. Folks arrive by the car load to try their hands. Visions of turns from seasons past, from the season to come, dance in their heads.
It’s a party atmosphere. Tailgating, music blasting. “First turns ahead,” to dance moves and a toke. Everyone in the vicinity claps, urging on. Finding our rhythm. Excitement fills the air. Skin up and off we go.
We settle into the climb. Feel the rub of ski boots. Glide over icy terrain. The skiing is going to suck, but we accept that. Head up toward Pierre’s, earlier arrivals make their way down. Skis scrape over ice. Shit eating smiles eat it up.
Folks talk as they hike. Skiers slide to a stop. What’s the word? Did you hear? A storm’s in the forecast. It’s a big one. Going to give us a solid base. Opening day. Coming soon. Next weekend. For sure. You bet. I’m digging it.
I turn to Bob who is climbing next to me. Begin to reminisce about the weekend before Thanksgiving 1983. It was snowing hard. It was deep. It was quiet. Skinning gear was rare. Rune and I were alone. Early telemarking gear. Narrow skis, leather boots with little torsional stiffness. Army and Navy strap on skins. Large helping of duct tape to keep them in place. Work well enough. Skied the back side of Pierre’s, crossed Slushman’s Ravine, climbed to the rock band, skied down.
Slushman’s was a rare treat. Gazed upon from the South Boundary in-season. Out-of-bounds, off-limits, verboten. Cross the Boundary, lose your pass.
Perfect knee-deep powder excited the senses. Boots flex, skis flop over, down we go. We fell a lot, imprints denting perfect powder meadows. Stopped in the trees at the bottom. Built a fire, ate. Warmed our feet. Nearly melted my right boot. “HOT!” Bottom of my boot separated; inner sole pressed into my foot. Stood up, stomped my foot in the snow. “HOT, hot, ahhh.” The sole reattached to the bottom. Warm foot. Should I melt the left one? “I would do it,” Rune said with a smirk. We geared up. Headed up Slushman’s for another run.
Four days later, back out. One last pre-season Slushman’s trek. Bill joined me this time. Snow kept falling. More beautiful turns, more imprints in the snow. No one else up here either time. Today it’s a steady stream. Skiers and riders make their way up, then down. Feels like the whole town is here. A vibe of anticipation. It’s coming. We all know it’s coming.
… fulfill your dreams of perfect powder turns. Bitter cold, bluebird days, thick fog all await. Some days you’ll beat the crowds, some days you’ll shuffle in lines with frozen toes. The thrill of untracked lines; hucks with perfect landings, complete blowouts. This is your field of dreams, so dream big. Make your imagination your reality.
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