billski
Active member
Parking has become a real PITA, since they shut down the area over at Spruce. Cars line the roads by 10am. Anyways, we get an early start, so we always get a desirable spot. Who cares. It's all about the skiing.
Started the day at minus 12. Met another cast of usual suspects. Did a few runs off the gondi, some little fun spits of woods here and there. Went inside to see some of the injured reserve on the (bar) bench. Felt really bad for these guys, but they come anyways. Spit off from the groomer aficionados and hit the bench and angel food. The top was another PITA for two old guys, but then it mellows out about 1/3 of the way down. We tortured ourselves for three runs in there, then went in for some liquid refreshment.
Met up with a pro Ski Cross champion friend and hit the slopes with her. This kid can smoke. People say we ski fast, but this is the difference between a Gulfstream jet and a fighter jet. In freaking credible. She pulled away from us like we were snowplowing or something. We stood on a lip on top of Hayride. By the time she was 20-30 seconds from blastoff, we could not spy her anymore. She was very kind to wait for us.
We of course we used this as an excuse to fire up the afterburners. Still couldn't even come close to catching her. No matter how fast we were, she kept pulling away. Then came the crash. My long timer ski bud and I were flying mach schnell. He was traversing the hill right to left, and I left to right. I was up hill of him, hit some chatter and slid right into him. I'd say each of us was at about 30 mph. My skis met his bindings, he flew into the air with a double eject, and I was down, out of my binding sliding, sliding, sliding, faster faster, faster. I was doing cartwheels on my stomach. Or back. or both. Anyways. I was way, way down the hill from my equipment. Both of us were fine, as was the equipment, but apparently the whole thing was pretty spectacular to watch. Everyone that came over to attend to us figured there must have been major, major carnage. After a lot of help to rescue our equipment, we snapped back in and skied down to where our skier cross friend was waiting. She had stopped to wait for us, and didn't see the instant of collision, but said that it was quite dramatic and quite scary to watch. And she was so freaking far away that she wasn't even sure it was us, but figured so when we had not come down for a while. She kept talking about it the rest of the day. I would have loved to see the movie.
Some general photos for the uninitiated.
more to follow...
Started the day at minus 12. Met another cast of usual suspects. Did a few runs off the gondi, some little fun spits of woods here and there. Went inside to see some of the injured reserve on the (bar) bench. Felt really bad for these guys, but they come anyways. Spit off from the groomer aficionados and hit the bench and angel food. The top was another PITA for two old guys, but then it mellows out about 1/3 of the way down. We tortured ourselves for three runs in there, then went in for some liquid refreshment.
Met up with a pro Ski Cross champion friend and hit the slopes with her. This kid can smoke. People say we ski fast, but this is the difference between a Gulfstream jet and a fighter jet. In freaking credible. She pulled away from us like we were snowplowing or something. We stood on a lip on top of Hayride. By the time she was 20-30 seconds from blastoff, we could not spy her anymore. She was very kind to wait for us.
We of course we used this as an excuse to fire up the afterburners. Still couldn't even come close to catching her. No matter how fast we were, she kept pulling away. Then came the crash. My long timer ski bud and I were flying mach schnell. He was traversing the hill right to left, and I left to right. I was up hill of him, hit some chatter and slid right into him. I'd say each of us was at about 30 mph. My skis met his bindings, he flew into the air with a double eject, and I was down, out of my binding sliding, sliding, sliding, faster faster, faster. I was doing cartwheels on my stomach. Or back. or both. Anyways. I was way, way down the hill from my equipment. Both of us were fine, as was the equipment, but apparently the whole thing was pretty spectacular to watch. Everyone that came over to attend to us figured there must have been major, major carnage. After a lot of help to rescue our equipment, we snapped back in and skied down to where our skier cross friend was waiting. She had stopped to wait for us, and didn't see the instant of collision, but said that it was quite dramatic and quite scary to watch. And she was so freaking far away that she wasn't even sure it was us, but figured so when we had not come down for a while. She kept talking about it the rest of the day. I would have loved to see the movie.
Some general photos for the uninitiated.
more to follow...