“This is going to hurt.”

Foreboding feelings of pain were strong going into this weekend. I am in the worst shape of my life. An honest self assessment suggested I could get the job done but only at the cost of several days of pain. But even in the worst shape of my life, I’m still more capable than I give myself credit for and I’ll need to remember that as I start rebuilding my body and, perhaps more importantly, the rest of my life.

This was the first perfect spring skiing weekend of the season with warm temperatures, clear sunny skies, and excellent corn snow conditions. If anything the temperature on Sunday was too warm too soon with corn conditions going past prime before noontime.

I knew to expect a crowd so I shunned the ravine proper in favor of Hillman’s Highway, which combined with the Sherburne is perhaps the longest continuous ski run in all of eastern North America right now. Why the hoards continue into the bowl when Hillman’s offers a longer run without down hiking and a safer environment is beyond me.

Despite my early start (as defined by arriving early enough to secure a parking space in the main lot), the Tuckerman Ravine Trail felt like a highway. I cranked up the tunes, got into the passing lane, and pushed the accelerator. Whenever I stopped for a breather, a follower nearly kissed my bumper. I felt caught up in a massive force of will and effort, it was difficult staying within my own pace. Thankfully, I would be exiting stage left at grand central station.

Skinable snow began far sooner than I had anticipated. Just past the final switchback, the TRT straightened into a wall to wall highway of white. I was weary of a false start. “You think this is continuous?” one doubtful passerby asked. Damned if I knew but I’d rather portage than carry skis and boots on my back. Sure enough, I managed continuous skinning without portage including skinning over the lumber at both bridges.

I soon found myself at the base of Hillman’s Highway and I took my time preparing for the ascent and taking in my surroundings. I was feeling really strong despite my previous fitness reservations. After a hydration break, I began a slow and methodical ascent without incident topping out to a fantastic view of the Summit Cone, Boott Spur Ridge, and Wildcat across the notch.

I’ve long held that the best views on Mount Washington are from the plateau below the summit cone and above the ravine. Boott Spur may have one of the finest views any where in the Whites. And topping out of Hillman’s gets you pretty damn close to that vantage point.

The northern gullies of Tuckerman drop into the bowl like fingers. You can easily spy conga lines and skiers alike and the apron above the Lip deceptively understates what is just out of view. The summit cone of Washington is a mountain on top of a mountain and on its east flank, the eastern snowfields shine brightly hinting at auto assisted turns to come.

If only I didn’t have a dinner date with a puppy, I would have extended the adventure to the summit and skied the Easties before dropping into Hillman’s. It was tempting but I was on a clock lest my poor pooch have to cross her legs longer than my already lengthy expectations. So I kept my ruminations and visual pleasures to a minimum and began the concluding push to the upper drop in point of the less skied right option.

The skiing was excellent despite the slightly past prime corn which was less peal away and more push and slide away. I got in a few good jump turns at the top of the gully before the two options merged into the run’s apt namesake. After pausing to enjoy the scene, I opened up the turns and let em’ rip.

This was my first time skiing the G3 Tonics on Mount Washington which, powder performance aside, is where I hoped that they would excel and I was not disappointed. I would have preferred a touch more stiffness but that is probably the extra twenty five pounds talking. I was more than pleased with their first big descent.

The boot ladder had developed into a conga line so I was glad I got in my climb with only a few other climbers. The snow hole at the bottom of the gully was extremely minor in nature and easy to ski around. I finished out the run on some developing bumps before stopping to catch my breathe and enjoy a final review of the scene.

The Sherburne was better covered than I had expected and allowed for skiing down two thirds of its twisty route. Despite the mellow nature of the trail, its nickname is well earned as a concluding leg burner to any big day. There were occasional bare spots but only one portage required. I suspect later skiers may have faced numerous portages as snow bridges got wiped out by traffic and weather.

This was the last weekend during which the majority of the TRT and Sherburne would be skiable, so I was more than happy to take advantage. By the end of this coming week, it is likely that the Sherburne will be down to its upper most third at best. Skinable snow may linger above the bridges by next weekend but not likely below them. It was the last weekend before the up and down become the suffer fest that I feared today might be.

I’ll go hunt some corn bumps via lifts for the next month until I get in better shape. I’ll be back for the bowl later this spring once the crowds die down. I can already hear June turns under the Waterfall calling me. And I can already feel the pain, but that type of pain is always worth it.