The plan was to ride the lifts until the crowds showed up and then hit the local BC. I got up early like it was a powder day. A car was in a snowbank on 242 despite bare pavement. The Stateside lot would be full before the lifts opened. It was one of those types of days.

The majority of the people were self-evidently vacation skiers. You can easily tell by the way people move, and struggle, when walking with their gear. For some, it might have been their first big resort experience. Good luck.

I was hopeful that some specific off-map trees would still have loose, or perhaps even untracked, snow from two days ago. I found a bit, but it was more tease than enticing.

I would try to make the best of it and hope the BC remained fresh. But I was struggling to make routine, easy turns. Work had sapped my energy and I didn’t sleep well the night before. My skiing was sloppy and lethargic.

After two runs, I called it a day. My skiing was an accident waiting to happen. And skiing at such a low level was hardly fun. At least I wasn’t missing much by leaving early. It would only get busier and the off map woods had already been pulverized.