Today was the tenth day and first powder day of my season. During an average season, I would have had at least that many powder days and more than double that many total days by the end of February. But this is not an average season. And today was not an average powder day.

I was only expecting a few inches, just enough to soften things up. But instead, Jay got coated in eight amazing inches. The dense snow felt bottomless even though I knew it wasn’t. I thought I might go an entire season without a powder day. But I finally got one. Perhaps my only one of the entire season.

Powder days have been so exceedingly rare this season that you might ask for pics or not believe that it happened. It did happen but I can’t prove it. After booting up, I looked at the zipped top pocket of my bag where I store my camera. And then I looked away and started walking towards the door.

I was sitting on the Jet having singled up with a father and his son. They were talking most of the ride about skiing. But then the father pulled out his phone and started typing. His son desperately tried to get his attention but the father continually asked for, no, insisted on silence so he could futz around with his device. He was out of the moment, momentarily oblivious to his surroundings, intentionally unaware of what deserved his full attention.

Today wasn’t about documenting and reporting. It wasn’t about trying to capture the conditions or available lines in ones and zeros. Today was about skiing hard, being in the moment, and treasuring each untracked turn. Every fucking one of them. I didn’t need a picture to remember today. How could I ever forget?