One month ago, I did not think this would be possible. I gave up. Late season Tuckerman Ravine turns were not going to happen. But inspiration struck and I had a goal. One more ski day. July turns. Something I had not experienced since 2011 due to two back to back poor snow years. I started hiking to test my legs. And I discovered that despite poor health, fatigue, and locomotion issues, I was still very capable of hiking. I determined that I would not be denied.

Patrick and I teamed up for the adventure as we’ve done many times previously in late June and early July. I originally planned on Fourth of July turns on Friday. But the forecast for the Fourth got worse every day throughout the week as Hurricane Arthur approached New England. Friday was a wash out with suboptimal weather lingering into early Saturday morning.

Temperatures were extremely cool for July with significant winds that violently shook the trees above the trail. Cool temperatures and high winds eliminated bugs and made for delightful hiking weather. I felt very strong during the hike and was relieved that the weight of a loaded pack was not an issue.

Questions from other hikers were par for the course but the disbelief actually grew stronger as we entered the bowl. Right under the headwall, in plain sight of snow, one hiker asked me where I was going to ski. And when I pointed at the snow patches, he reiterated his question as if I had told a straight faced joke. Some inquired if we were hiking over the ravine towards the other side of the mountain.

These questions are often enjoyable and occasionally irritating (especially in frequent repetition) but I was reminded of how individual understanding informs our view of the world. Most people can’t fathom hiking to ski for turns at all, let alone hiking to ski for a dozen turns at most. A “ski run” to most people is a minimum of 150 vertical feet even at a bunny slope and 2000 vertical feet at a major area. It is an essential (and frightful) part of our humanity to not see the world as it is but rather how our brain interprets experiences, perceptions, and our personal understanding of reality.

From the First Aid Cache, Patrick and I shared a dismayed view of the damage inflicted by Hurricane Arthur. Visual beta posted online from the prior weekend suggested that both patches would be easily skiable. But the previous night’s rain was torrential and incessant. The damage was substantial and the remaining patches were amongst the smallest that I have hiked to ski.

I hiked to the top of the Sluice patch and transitioned to ski boots thinking that a half dozen turns before the Snow Arch might be possible followed by side stepping back up. But prior to clipping in and climbing on, a closer look underneath revealed much of the upper patch was undermined to a foot of snow depth or less and rapidly melting. It might have been safe but it wasn’t worth the risk.

I hiked back down and we made our way towards the Chute. The usual Fourth of July ski crew arrived in the bowl just after Patrick and I and came bearing a grill, meats, adult beverages, a watermelon, and a uni-cycle in addition to their skis and boards. While the unicycle seemed like an odd choice, I suspect the watermelon was heavier.

The Chute patch was 50-60 feet in length. The patch was so short that sidestepping for additional runs was faster than booting. During my first turn, the group counted the turns and I milked it for 11. Every turn was a precious moment, a realization of what you can make happen by setting a goal and working towards it.

Four runs later, I took a last run. And then I took another. I was getting tired and the turns were requiring more effort. I originally thought 11 turns was pretty darn good. But not good enough, I wasn’t satisfied with giving into fatigue. I laid down 15 turns on my second final run and called it a day.

The limited amount of terrain didn’t matter. I was skiing in July after having entirely given up just a few weeks ago. It wasn’t an ending, it was a beginning. I needed desperately to do this, to have something to work towards and make happen. To have some positive momentum after years of decline.

Thanks to Patrick for the companionship and grabbing some shots: