A Face-shot a Day Keeps the Doctor Away

Epic, sensational, unreal. Today was a spectacular day of skiing. Today I learned that I ski with my mouth wide open. I learned that today because I spent all morning coughing mouthfuls of snow out of the gaping orifice which occupies the lower third of my face. And no, it wasn't because I did a double-heel ejection header into a 4 foot drift (although I did). Rather, it was a result of back to back to back to back runs during which my face averaged more contact with snow than it did with air.

Whistler reported 35cm of snow at mid-mountain, almost all of which fell between the hours of 2pm-10pm last night. 35cm doesn't actually sound like that much, but whoo! It was enough. My day started at 5:30 in Dave's pickup headed to make First Tracks. We rode the gondola at 7:30 with several hundred other powder fiends, ate a huge buffet breakfast of sausage, bacon, eggs, granola, pastries, orange juice, and pancakes faster that I thought humanly possible, and waited for the go-ahead to shred.

By 1pm my legs felt like Jell-o. I had to take the cat-track down--I simply couldn't safely make a real turn to save my life. It was an amazing feeling. Unfortunately neither myself nor my friends could be bothered to snap a photo of me buzzing hip-deep down powder lines, so there are no photos of skiing. But I did take advantage of the down time on the lifts to snap a few photos which I hope you'll enjoy.

That, believe it or not, is my assistant manager. It's 6:15 am and he's crammed in the backseat of a pickup, gondola-bound.

The mob, waiting to be unleashed upon the unsuspecting powder. Behind is the Whistler alpine, which is not yet open because of severe avalanche hazard. The day the alpine opens, it will be neck-deep. I will be there. When they dropped the rope it was total chaos: crashes, cursing, anger, war whoops. I really really wish I'd been taking video--it'd have been hysterical.

Reflective lenses are BA.

Whistler alpine, shrouded in clouds. View from Red Chair.