Cannon Mountain, NH
I am not even sure where to begin. How do I put into words the type of day I had at Cannon? Suffice to say, it was one of the top three skiing days in my life. I had what I consider to be my best and most memorable run ever. I have never smiled, laughed, whooped, yelled, giggled, and all out had such a fun six hours in my lifetime. It was pure bliss, euphoria, uncontrolled hysteria. I was a kid again, carefree and fun loving. I had a ball.
I began my day with my customary early wake up time of 5:30 A.M. for the two hour drive to Cannon. Roads were still a little slick and drivers had an attitude. Not a fun drive up. As I laid eyes on the notch, I got an awesome feeling. The whole notch was cloud free… except for Cannon. The top 750 vertical feet of Cannon were socked in. It was the proverbially cloud over the head of Angry Old Man Cannon that followed him where ever he goes. As I drove through the notch, and smiled at Cannon’s personification and stammered my favorite mountain saying “Cannon, you big grumpy old man you!”
I was the polar opposite of that grumpy old man, I was a giddy smiling little kid. The weekend storm had dumped over half a foot of fluff on the broad shoulders of Cannon Mountain, and I was about to hit the candy store.