Alarm clock doesn't even go off and I'm up at 3 am and racing towards an already packed car. It’s been r*ining since one; I know this because I couldn't sleep. The weather forecasts race in my mind, will it stay cold enough to hold the snowpack, and am I driving 4 hours in the dark to meet a hill covered in mud. Through the early morning I race, all the time splitting my attention between the road and my dashboard, where the external temperature is displayed. I watch as it slowly creeps downward, 47 degrees in Troy, 44 in Bennington at 4 am, dropping to 42 while passing Manchester at 4:30. I hit 40 in Rutland, still not cold enough for snow. The time of day further complicates matters as I’d decided to skip the winding of route 100 in favor of route 7 however I’m having difficulty remembering the directions (which are sitting on my printer at home). I finally spot my turn and proceed east towards Mad River Glen when I hit an unexpected snag; Lincoln Gap road which would connect me from 7 to 100 is closed, leaving me with Route 17 which winds over the mountains from Starksboro to Irasville. I’ve driven that route before in dry conditions but never in a pounding rainstorm, with gusts of wind that are driving my car from yellow paint to shoulder. I grit my teeth and gun the accelerator towards my destiny. As I reach the gap, I notice with trepidation the temperature dropping and the r*in changing over to snow; branches litter the road which has been draped with a thin sheen of ice that glares back at my headlights. I ascend through the maze of hairpin turns without incident and begin my decent towards the base of Mad River Glen. Feeling a sense of relief and wonderment at the snow, I let my guard down to peak out at the winter wonderland, the car gets away from me on a downhill turn and slides towards the guardrail, I quickly regain control and avert a disaster. Cursing my carelessness and stupidity I continue the crawl to the base of MRG. Even in the predawn light I can see that the trails are swathed in white. But enough about the drive, on to Stowe and Mansfield!
I arrive in Stowe at dawn, or what would be dawn if it wasn’t r*ining so hard. Pulling into the parking lot I’m greeted by a mix of sleet and r*in, but there is SNOW!!!!
I grab the coveted parking spot next to the Midmountain lodge, gear up and begin my slog up Liftline. By now the sleet has turned to r*in, and the wind has kicked up to a steady 20 mph, if you want to simulate hiking up Mansfield, put your ski gear on jump in your shower turn the cold water on high, and have a powerful fan blow the water into your face.
But despite the conditions I’m in great spirits the snow is deep, the coverage is fabulous and I’m going to get to ski.
As I get higher and higher up it begins getting colder, and the r*in is turning to ice pellets that are stinging any skin they can find. Even more bothersome is the wind. I begin to find myself wallowing up to my knees in snow drifts and decide to switch from bootpacking to skinning.
During the switchover I begin to notice that after an hour of ascending in a downpour the r*in has finally beaten back the defenses of my Gore-Tex shells. Even the “dry” layers I’d had in my pack are soaked with r*in. I’m making better time with skins on and feel I must be nearing the summit so I push gamely on but it’s a fool’s errand, after another hour of climbing and only a few hundred vertical feet before the summit, I succumb to the elements and my general misery, and realize that tomorrow is another day. At the top of Liftline and National, I strip my skins and my wet layers, buckle the boots, step into my skis and drop in. I really wasn’t hoping for much, it was after all October, and the r*in and wind had taken their toll on my moral. My expectation was to make it to the bottom without injuring myself; instead I was treated to some sublimely good turns. The r*in and wind had buffed the snow from a maze of uneven refrozen junk, into smooth creamy goodness.
I was amazed at the quality of the snow which just gave way to my every sweeping turn. Despite the heaviness in my legs; I was able to link turns pretty much at will, only stopping to rest or to negotiate a water bar or other obstacle. But all good things must come to an end, and unfortunately I ran out of vertical. Too tired and soaked to hike back for seconds I savor the turns for a moment, then, wanting to get warm and dry, I walk the 500 feet back to the car, strip my clothes and begin to see my plan of skiing tomorrow go up in smoke, or more to the point, be soaked.
I had planned on spending the night in our new Freestyle (huge upgrade from the Escape in terms of living space for car camping), I’d brought a warm sleeping bag and a crash pad to sleep on, and there was plenty of space, but I’d come to the realization that there was no way I was going to get anything dry in the car. Looking out the window at the r*in pouring down, I glumly decide to drive around town and head home. While on the road however, an inspiration strikes me, if I could find somewhere with a dryer, I’d be all set. Lucky for me with the aid of my GPS’s points of interest function, a Laundromat was found. A mere 4 dryer cycles later and my gear is good to go (I even had to throw my pack in the dryer). Dinner is found and I retire to my lodging for the night and am lulled to sleep by the soft lullaby of 30 mph winds, the soothing sound of ice pellets being hammered into my windows, and the gentle rocking of my car in the 50 mph wind gusts.
Sunday 10/29/06
I awake to the sounds of, well nothing actually. I roll out of the car to a light snowfall which appears to be valiantly trying to stick to the ground. Temperatures, which had been dropping all night, appear to have finally leveled out at 30 degrees. I get dressed and head over to spruce peak where I found a vantage point to study my options. I feel that due to the wind and terrain, the lookers left of the mountain would seem to be the better spot. I should be able to find lower angle terrain which has the double bonus of being physically easier to skin and its more wind protected. So this time I take the longer walk in, and find a route to skin up, the skin is leisurely, I’m tired from yesterday and owing to the absence of r*in I don’t feel the need to rush.
The snow is starting to accumulate and there’s a lot of drifting snow if you find the right spots. I’m aware of the strong winds, but it seems a minor annoyance until I reach the ridge that leads to the summit. I am then treated to a blast of what must have been 50-60 mph; the wind is ripping along, picking up snow and hurling it at me and the gusts leave me no choice but to lean over my poles, set my edges and wait it out. My skinning strategy changes from holding the highest angle I possibly can to finding islands of safety where I could get out of the wind. I had been moving at a fairly good clip as well climbing @ 1100 feet of elevation in a little over an hour, but once over that ridgeline my pace slowed to a crawl. Again I was determined to push on to the summit, but the mountain kept sending attacks of brutal wind to thwart my progress and I was beginning to see my rest times increase while my forward progress decreased. So once again I quit on the summit push and clicked in to find some of the best turns I’ve had in a long time. The snow was nowhere near as consistent as the yesterday, hard scratchy crust from where the wind had scoured the snowpack, to soft silky graupel in the spots where the wind had deposited snow. This was the day to let the skis run, and run they did, drawing the lines in a giant game of connect the dots, moving from one dot of windblown to the next patch, all connecting to form a picture of a great run.
Once again I found myself at the bottom too soon and out of turns and time, for it was time to head home to the land of jobs and responsibilities and all of the other crap that keeps us from days like these. October skiing like this is such a rarity on the east coast, and even tonight as I write this its hard for me to believe that the last two days were even possible, but, every once in a while, an experience like the last two days will make believers of us all, and maybe, that’s just enough.
