Jay: Endings & Beginnings

Jay

Flash back to my last ski day on July 5th. Before my last run, I said to myself “this isn’t an ending, this is a beginning”. Rather than seeing an end to the season, I was seeing (or, trying to, at least) a beginning of possibilities.

But I had it all wrong. There is no ending, no beginning. There is just one infinite continuum. Our illusional consciousness perceives endings and beginnings. But that is just our personal narrative. We are all just carrying on. Sometimes pushing, sometimes not.

If we always pushed, if we were always mindful, if we always valued our surroundings and existence as we think we should, perhaps that would deaden the amazement and bafflement and wonder that we might otherwise experience.

Today wasn’t a special day. First day of the season? Last day of the season? Any day of the season? Any day at all? I just woke up and did something I find value in doing, something I prefer to do rather than not doing anything. I went to Jay without expectation, only knowing that I would hike up and ski down.

The natural accumulation was far less than expected. It was difficult to measure because the snow was held aloft by the grass. There was so little snow that the weight of it couldn’t fully press down blades of grass. I fought uphill against my out of shape body, against my out of shape mind. Deer crossed my path multiple times. Just another day.

Upon reaching the col between Montrealer and Vermonter, I deemed that the later didn’t have enough natural snow to justify the ascent. I continued onto the top of the Jet. I was content to ski down under the guns on man made. In a word, it sucked. In a word, it was wonderful.

The man made gave way to two inches on natural on lower Haynes where I “skied” out while managing not to end my “season” with an injury. Never before have I had as much fun with such shitty skiing.

The quality of the skiing didn’t matter. I’m sure, at some point this season, my assessment will change. Perceptions are constantly altered based on what we regularly experience. But for at least one run, it just mattered that I was out there, having an adventure. Just doing. Just being.

Jay Peak: For the Record

Yet another spring weekend has conspired against me. The weather for Saturday was adequate for spring skiing but hardly the banner blue bird on Sunday. I had plans for Sunday so I endured Saturday instead. It wasn’t horrible. But the cloudy skies never allowed for sunshine to soften the frozen groomer tracks on the lower mountain where groomers scraped the trail down to push snow towards the lift.

I awoke to torrential downpour at my house in central New Hampshire. But I trusted in the weather forecast and started driving north despite the rain. To hell with the rain, I was going to ski Jay once more before it closed even if it meant skiing in the rain.

But I arrived to cloudy skis without a rain drop in sight. The temperature was barely warm enough for short sleeve t-shirt skiing so I skipped the jacket despite the light breeze higher up the mountain. The sun never really came out but it was warm enough.

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A Jay “Powder” Day

Jay Trees

Early and late season powder days are usually my favorite of the season. Especially when almost all of New England is receiving a drenching rain. Shoulder season means fewer people. Rain in metro areas means even fewer still. After two shit springs, March finally delivered. But few stick around to enjoy the harvest.

After driving almost two hours through rain and upper 30 degree temperatures, I must admit to having my doubts. I passed through Jay village and began the ascent up 242 but the temperature was not dropping. The rain was not changing to snow. But when I opened my car door at the base area, sure enough, the precipitation was frozen.

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Cold? Wimps. Jay.

From Kitzbuehel

Somewhere north of the Notch, my car’s temperature display dipped into the double digits. The negative double digits. I started questioning whether the drive to Jay would be worth while. The snow that fell earlier in the week would surely be tracked out, right? Jay’s recent snowfall combined with quite expansive terrain offerings would bring out the crowds, right?

Wrong. On both counts.

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Explosions of Snow: Jay

Earned Powder at Jay

How could it possibly be better than this past Sunday? Even Jay was supposed to get rain before the minimal backside snowfall. Thanksgiving morning, I went to Jay with low expectations. Half a foot of dust on crust was still more fun than not going at all. The Thanksgiving Dinner plan was a quiet meal at home, a late dinner for two. So why not see what Jay had to offer?

My fitness level was suspect during the uphill, I required frequent stops and had shortness of breath. The wind was blowing like crazy, the snow was falling horizontally, and the base area temperature was only ten degrees. It should not have been a hard fought skin to the top of the Jet, but it was. While changing over, I noticed that my feet were extremely cold, especially my left foot which was losing sensation.

I returned to the trail that did me so well on Sunday. And I dropped into something beyond words. It was deep. It was really deep. Deeper than Sunday. Deeper than anything I’ve skied in at least two years. Knee deep minimum with even deeper drifts. Thigh deep. Balls deep. Explosions of snow. Gobble. Gobble.

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