With lift ticket prices on the rise at Wildcat and Sunday River ($49 and $39 respectively) but neither area offering more than a single unique top to bottom route, the value was not sufficient to justify the expense. As with past seasons, I have made a commitment to tour more and ride the lifts less this season. So with low lift serviced value and high turn earning motivation in mind, I decided to skin and ski at Jay again despite no guarantee of natural snow turns.

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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.