Mark Renson
New member
Inspired by Scott Doppler?s weather postings as well as the Weather Channel (though they probably both get their information from the same place), I was game for some pre-work skiing! I got on the road a little after 5:00AM with the intention of hitting Wa-Wa and running into Patrick. But, me being Mr. Conscientious White Collar Drone worried about being able to make it from Wa-Wa to work through The Bowels of Route 128 in foul weather and traffic, so at the Route 2 interchange, I forged ahead and continued the treacherous snowy driving to the mighty Nashoba Valley ??all 250 vertical feet of it.
The night skiing lights were left on
. Such customer service! Without a map ? I memorized it ya? know - I headed up the untracked War Dance Snowfields at 5:58:007 AM EST. Serious concerns raced through my mind :? , especially since I was solo: what if the snowfield ripped loose and buried me? ?.or the frigid NW winds wore me down and sent me into a death spiral into a hypothermic sleep? ?..what if Betsey the Patrol Director caught me? (she does not like me earning turns there, ya? know ? she can be quite the Ski Narc). Halfway up, I paused and peered over my shoulder to admire the eerie sublime glow of the soda machine parked in front of the base lodge. The sound of the breeze rushing through the forest drowned out the noise from the distant I-495 ?..though the roar of the vomiting snow guns at 115 decibels on the next trail over probably had more to do with that. As I approached the daunting summit of whatever that pimple that the Nashoba Valley Ski Area sits on is named, a new concern flooded my mind that was far greater than the ones I had mentioned above ??and that concern was: what if that f*ing Pisten Bully on Nashoba Slopes finished its work on that trail and got ahead of me and BRUTALLY GROOMED the living sh*t outta? my intended ski descent route? :shock:
Fortunately, the BRUTAL GROOMER continued working on Nashoba Slope ? yes, meticulous grooming has its place, uh-huh, uh-huh. Yes, keep on grooming and make sure the Nashoba Slope is flattened wall-to-wall and if an errant death cookie pops up, return and squash it into the hardpack, leaving a corduroy signature on it. I de-skinned under a light and off I went. Sweeeeeeeeeeet!!!!!! I made some darn nice tracks . Shin deep, nice fluff ? hey, it worked for me. So good was it, that I skinned up for another arduous 250 foot ascent. A stiff breeze had obscured my skin track which meant that the War Dance Snowfields were being refreshed, as well and that Pisten Bully was still preoccupied with BRUTALLY GROOMING the living sh*t outta? Nashoba Slopes . Another sweeeet descent was had as I spooned my first tracks .
So addictive was the powder, that I headed up my well established skin track, again and that Pisten Bully musta? been equally addicted to grooming that Nashoba Slope. At the top, the Zen of Adventure overcame me and I just had to traverse over to Bull Run, where snowguns were vomiting forth McSludge. That was just the problem ? it was high-density glop that was being vomited and just traversing alone was tricky. Well, why leave a sure good thing, I thought to myself, so I herringboned back to the top of War Dance and proceeded to spoon meself some more sweeeet untracked powder turns.
At the bottom, I contemplated doing another run to round things out to an even thousand feet. However, it was 6:45 and the Conscientious White Collard Drone in me worried about a treacherous commute and being late for work. I have this thing about being 10-15 minutes early for everything ? I?m a pretty nervous neurotic pain in the arse, ya? know. So, I admired my tracks and then packed up and headed to work.
Our course, everyone else was late for work.
In all honesty, those turns were pretty sweet.
Mark
The night skiing lights were left on
. Such customer service! Without a map ? I memorized it ya? know - I headed up the untracked War Dance Snowfields at 5:58:007 AM EST. Serious concerns raced through my mind :? , especially since I was solo: what if the snowfield ripped loose and buried me? ?.or the frigid NW winds wore me down and sent me into a death spiral into a hypothermic sleep? ?..what if Betsey the Patrol Director caught me? (she does not like me earning turns there, ya? know ? she can be quite the Ski Narc). Halfway up, I paused and peered over my shoulder to admire the eerie sublime glow of the soda machine parked in front of the base lodge. The sound of the breeze rushing through the forest drowned out the noise from the distant I-495 ?..though the roar of the vomiting snow guns at 115 decibels on the next trail over probably had more to do with that. As I approached the daunting summit of whatever that pimple that the Nashoba Valley Ski Area sits on is named, a new concern flooded my mind that was far greater than the ones I had mentioned above ??and that concern was: what if that f*ing Pisten Bully on Nashoba Slopes finished its work on that trail and got ahead of me and BRUTALLY GROOMED the living sh*t outta? my intended ski descent route? :shock: Fortunately, the BRUTAL GROOMER continued working on Nashoba Slope ? yes, meticulous grooming has its place, uh-huh, uh-huh. Yes, keep on grooming and make sure the Nashoba Slope is flattened wall-to-wall and if an errant death cookie pops up, return and squash it into the hardpack, leaving a corduroy signature on it. I de-skinned under a light and off I went. Sweeeeeeeeeeet!!!!!! I made some darn nice tracks
. Shin deep, nice fluff ? hey, it worked for me. So good was it, that I skinned up for another arduous 250 foot ascent. A stiff breeze had obscured my skin track which meant that the War Dance Snowfields were being refreshed, as well and that Pisten Bully was still preoccupied with BRUTALLY GROOMING the living sh*t outta? Nashoba Slopes . Another sweeeet descent was had as I spooned my first tracks .So addictive was the powder, that I headed up my well established skin track, again and that Pisten Bully musta? been equally addicted to grooming that Nashoba Slope. At the top, the Zen of Adventure overcame me and I just had to traverse over to Bull Run, where snowguns were vomiting forth McSludge. That was just the problem ? it was high-density glop that was being vomited and just traversing alone was tricky. Well, why leave a sure good thing, I thought to myself, so I herringboned back to the top of War Dance and proceeded to spoon meself some more sweeeet untracked powder turns.
At the bottom, I contemplated doing another run to round things out to an even thousand feet. However, it was 6:45 and the Conscientious White Collard Drone in me worried about a treacherous commute and being late for work. I have this thing about being 10-15 minutes early for everything ? I?m a pretty nervous neurotic pain in the arse, ya? know. So, I admired my tracks and then packed up and headed to work.
Our course, everyone else was late for work.
In all honesty, those turns were pretty sweet.
Mark
