A Tale of Two Cannons

Mount Lafayette from Avalanche

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.

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Turns Sweet Turns: Sunday River

I hoped for a half dozen runs before the lines and downloading became overwhelming. Instead, I got a baker’s dozen before the lines and downloading became barely a minor annoyance. The guns were on and then they were off. The turns were good on variable man made blow with natural and skier induced terrain obstacles. Skier’s right on T2 was sweet and Upper Punch sucked the big one. Coming off a mammoth earned turn powder day last week, this wasn’t much to write about. But it was still turns sweet turns and I’ll be back for more next weekend if the natural hasn’t returned.

Eyes Wide Open: Cannon

Zoomer Lift Line
Zoomer Lift Line

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.

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Beastly Skiing at the Beast

Skinning Under the Snowdon Quad

Today had all the makings of fantastic adventure: equipment failure, gear breakage, poor packing skills, lost helmet ear pads, and horrific skiing. Depending upon one’s outlook on life, it could have either been a comedy or a tragedy. Or both. My amusement while “skiing” (i.e. attempting and failing to link two turns) suggested comedy. But my frustration with trying to engage my Dynafits after falling (again) and associated broken brake suggested tragedy. I laughed, but I didn’t cry.

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Tuckerman Ravine: Because It’s Still There

Steve 4

Steve 2

While hiking back up for my third run, I overheard a descending hiker mention that “you only see snow in July so many times in your life.” That is true for hikers and die hard skiers alike. Having now skied in July four times, I almost started to think of it as a regular occurrence. Something to be expected as normal and just another part of my season. Which it is. But that comment in passing reminded me that no ski day should be taken for granted, especially a July ski day.

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