It has been a long, dry stretch here in Colorado – like 4 years worth. The bounty of great white dumpage that we expect to be spoiled with has been reticent to gain the momentum necessary to really sate the snow beast within. That said, it has been a fricking effort to get to the hill some mornings, especially when the winds are high, the temperature is low, and the snow is scarce. That said, I need to remind myself that we are blessed to have a mountain to complain about, two legs and the means to get up there (both physically and financially). That said, this past Saturday was one of the worst days on record in my 12 years of dealing with the small town resort of Eldora – Smalldora – Windora – The Rock – call it what you will. After days like Saturday, with rock hard congealed somewhat snow like substance, 55 mph winds and no fresh snow, enthusiasm is hard to come by. It was a three and out day – three runs, and get the hell out before some football player from Texas mows you down like a small varmint. I left discouraged, and pissed off at the winter, the lack of snow, the single digit temperatures, and generally un-enthused. Lame. When there is no stoke externally, you must generate it internally. Not being stoked is a crime – as life is good and we are lucky to be here living it. When that doesn’t get the blood flowing – turn to drastically increased doses of caffeinated beverages.

I called the snow report Sunday morning and they were calling two inches, and 35 mph winds. Now in most cases the wind IS your enemy. At Eldora, however, the wind is your friend. Despite the pitiful conditions of the day before, I rallied. God loves those with optimism, and he rewards the same behavior. The wind will usually scare most people off the back of the mountain, leaving it to the locals to ‘chew on the bone’ as one of my more snow addicted friends would say.

I was flying solo, and made it to the western most lift (The Legendary Corona Bowl – cue intimidating music now…) affectionately known as Lambo Field aka The Corona Shield – looking more like something they are going to dig some Alien Autopsy victim out of after 4,00 years than something you could actually recreate on.  As I slid down to the lift I came into the middle of a throng of patrollers surrounding the lift, and the lift was showing no signs of movement. They immediately jumped on me, assuming I had poached something to get down there as quickly as I did. I swore I had not dropped any ropes, and learned that the lift would be 10 – 15 minutes until operational for ‘General Public’ (that’s what they call us annoying paying customers).

Apparently they had pulled the rope across ’around the horn’ right after I sped through, closing Corona until further notice. It was the second event working in my favor so far on this fine Sunday. The result of the rope now closing around the horn was that I was the sole ‘public’ back there, and would have at least a one run advantage over anyone else who came through after they re-opened the access back from the front. This may seem like small potatoes, but as in snow and surf hunting – you take what you can.

The lift eventually cranked up, and as I rode up solo, there appeared to be a generous helping of snow in the wind loaded areas of the face. A few of the best runs on the mountain were still not open. The only way out there is to go out on a ‘tour’ with a ski patrol member. In order to do this you had to sign a release (When I hit the stump and relocate my femur I will not sue…etc.). As I headed toward patrol there were some folks I recognized coming out, with a couple of new faces dressed in the latest and greatest fashions. Ah, seems I had stumbled upon the classic early morning photo shoot.

Being that the ‘Shootees’ were from Vail and not familiar with Eldora, they asked me to tag along and maybe jump into the shoot. Say no more.

The reasonable blow in on the main face is always a strong indicator that things will be just that much better a few hundred yards to the west. Westridge, Mooseglades, Chicken Glades, Sato, all the runs that we eagerly await as the season develops. As the wind screams over the divide it hits the far western edge of the resort it just piles snow into the tree-line and ridge that run the length of the hill. Nature obliged, and it was good. It was in fact, really good. We picked some lines and hit them numerous times, shooting from different angles and catching some great sun on the fresh white. It was definitely one of the best days of the year so far. To get onto some serious steeps, and let the board run, that is the joy of riding snow, and that is one of the major joys of life. I felt the crappy days, scarred boards, and knicked stumps fading away – this was payback – simple – plain joy.

Sometimes, in the wee dark hours, as cynicism takes over, I question the ‘hedge’ bets that I have placed. It is rare, but it happens. My long term investments have more to do with trail knowledge, snowfall patterns, and small shots through tight trees – than they do in retirement planning, owning nine homes, or basically ruling a world that I very often try to live outside of as often as I possibly can - while sneaking into it periodically to take as much as I can without ‘living’ in that world in a spiritual sense.

I don’t think anyone in their deathbed has said they wished they got fewer powder days, or rode less singletrack. On the worst day, we have Eldora to abuse, to ridicule the slow lifts and the stoned lifties, the grumpy patrollers and the miserable conditions.

As my friend Ray says so eloquently on his new album " And to know these places we are blessed".