Jay has taught me to always keep my expectations in check. High expectations can lead to disappointment even when conditions are better than average. And some of my fondest days are those that I expected less than stellar conditions.

But today I got exactly what I was expecting, yet another six inch powder day. A base that never seems to fully consolidate off piste. Never ending packed powder with frequent but never substantial reloads. Without the highs and the lows, we just experience a dull constant. A few inches here, a few inches there. It is nice but never epic.

This is the season of the ho-hum powder day.

Personally, I prefer the extremes. I prefer the roller coaster seasons of big dumps followed by downtime. I don’t feel the pull to ski whenever I can for never ending packed powder… a condition I might crave following a rain/thaw/freeze event. I’ve never been one to appreciate what I have, I always live for the moment.

I’ve always experienced the world in relative terms. Stagnation is never preferable, even if that stagnation is above average. The highs are higher for the lows. Most would disagree, most see the world differently. But I feel that the lows are meant to be embraced, they are an important part of our journey. Right now, everything seems like it should be perfect: a flat line of consistency, a lack of epic but also a lack of fail. A situation that many might envy.

This season has become a metaphor for my life.

The only thing that surprises me anymore is that I can still be surprised. But surprise is sometimes created by inspiration and vision. I knew a skiable line must exist in a particular section of trees. I’ve skied almost every skiable line at Jay but I still felt that a few lines eluded me. Somewhere between here and there must open up into something.

I skied with a wary eye towards the side of the trail. I saw a track veer off into the trees but it ended and doubled back. Too much of a schwack for a solo safety meeting. It felt good, it felt right. The previous skier lacked conviction. Or perhaps a sense of adventure, or willingness to be slightly reckless in pursuit of a sought after line.

A wall of thick softwoods blocked my path. But looking up, I could see the tops of birch trees just beyond the conifers. I pushed through and a lane opened up, seemingly ideal for skiing and without brush. The word “stash” gets used a lot but there are very few secrets left regarding off map lines at ski areas. But I managed to find one completely untracked with two feet of days old accumulated booty. Who knows the last time that line was skied? Who knows when it might be skied again?