My recent visit to Killington proved that great days can be built on low expectations. Sometimes high expectations deliver. But not often enough to warrant the build up of excitement. If only I could contain said excitement when 4-6″ is forecast for Cannon on top of 8″ since Friday. But by now I should understand that southerly storm flows do not deliver for Franconia Notch. And yesterday’s snow rarely holds on before being blown across the mountain.
Caution and Closed. Just signs of the times. One indicates what you can’t ski. And the other suggests what you can ski won’t be very good. But there is opportunity for some fun despite frozen groomer tracks being evident from the first chair.
Never before have I been so delighted to ski under the guns. Lower Cannon was lit up top to bottom yielding terrain features, somewhat powdery snow, and occasionally fun turns. I found ample opportunity to work on my pathetic early season form and I occasionally enjoyed it.
Unfortunately, getting to that occasional fun required significant misery. Despite almost doubling available terrain, Cannon could only keep me interested for two hours this weekend instead of last weekend’s four.
The packed parking lot suggested conditions and crowds would be worse than two weeks ago. I was apprehensive about conditions and wondered how many runs it would take to drive me off the mountain. Surprisingly, the crowd was somewhat manageable after the first tracks frenzy and I found some bumps to keep me entertained through noontime.
Cannon added the Links to Spookie as an option but the combined traffic still needed to run the gauntlet down Gremlin. I was delighted to find loose snow on an enjoyable Big Link, a surprisingly treat (for once). A bump line setup on skier’s left of Gremlin which kept me entertained far longer than I had expected.
The trails were crowded, the conditions were scraped, and the troughs were thinly covered. But dancing in between the bumps on Spookie, I skied a line true and had a huge smile as a result. Even on an early season death ribbon, there is still fun to be had and quality turns to be made.
If the density of skiers at Cannon is any indicator, demand is seriously exceeding supply. Much like last year, Cannon opened with one crowded route via Middle Cannon to Gremlin. Unlike last year, Thanksgiving leftovers were still available for turn earning.
Despite bringing both alpine and touring setups, I concluded it would be a lift serviced day. I thought the natural snow would be manky given the warm temperature. So I boarded the Peabody Quad for a few runs down the gauntlet.
While riding the Quad, I looked around and reflected on how Cannon continues to be my mountain. I’ll ruminate in a future post about what factors induce love of particular mountains. I won’t be spoiling anything by stating the nuanced connection is both irrational and emotional.
The past eighteen months have been brutal. On the cusp of greatness and actualization, work fell apart and I was overtaken by a deep malaise. Despite being awarded my company’s highest honor, I’ve never felt my shortcomings more keenly both personally and professionally. I awoke every morning without feeling alive. My consciousness disassociated from reality but yet I still saw it, a distinctive blur that I imagined myself reaching out and trying to grasp.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was never work but rather my work, an extension of myself. But I took that philosophy too far. I moved here partly because I viewed a job as a means to an end. But something went wrong, terribly wrong. And through the powder and face shots, my eyes opened wide and I felt alive again: knowing what went wrong and how to fix it.