After a two week drought and a horrible start to the 2014/15 snow season, we are asking ourselves what does it all mean.

After a four-year stretch at other resorts, I returned to Solitude Resort this year. I missed the lack of lift-lines and amazing backcountry access. So far I haven’t been disappointed.

Last Sunday after two weeks without snow, we found the most amazing line of inbounds fresh powder!

I know what your thinking. Bullshit, no way! I assure you it is all-true.

Now we‘re not talking blower powder up to your eyeballs, after all it is the beginning of December. We are talking knee deep, soft and slashible powder. The kind where you charge down the mountain without much worry. Core shots or being harpooned by a hidden stick are far from your mind. The kind of powder where you just get lost in the moment, feeling the snow moving and spraying under your board. Where you’re weightless and floating on nature’s frozen cloud.

We charge down the mountain and slashing deep backside turns that sent snow arching though the air like surfing at pipeline. Then popped off a buried tree stump and landed on what felt like a new down pillow. Cruising, linking, from one turn to the next, one stump, then a log, and finally down a natural half using the transition to boost higher.

It didn’t last long though, only a few hundred yards. It was so amazing that when we reached the bottom and looked back at the line, we said to ourselves, “Holy shit that was fun!”  I looked over at my friends and everyone was just looking back at the line. You could see it in their eyes, that kind of satisfied hunger. Everyone knows that might have been the best run of the season. Yet, it’s only the beginning.

Now I have that hunger growing again. How long will I have to wait for one more amazing, life changing run?

That’s me, in rare form, riding down the mountain on my buddy Eric’s back, sans skis! An unusual way down the mountain, perhaps? Indeed. But that’s what happens when you double eject after shattering two heel pieces. What a day…

Rewind six hours back.

I had freshly waxed skis, an egg & cheese burrito in my belly and a new banger playlist.  Work was covered, or rather they accepted that I wasn’t coming in on a powder day, and I awaited Harrison and Kyra to pick me up at the crack of dawn.  Between little sleep and jonesing for fresh pow, I was having a slight panic attack during the car ride, hoping that I had made the right resort choice.  When it comes to a powder day falling on a Saturday, there is more than snow to be accounted for…there are crowds full of pow-starved fiending local weekend-warriors.  Solitude is one of the few resorts I had never had the chance to explore, and the buddies I was meeting up with were Solitude gurus.  I jumped on the opportunity to go shred a resort with homies that knew the stashes.  When we arrived to the parking lot, I knew I had made the right decision as the mountain was peaceful, untracked, and pristine.

I had been conditioning in the gym all week for this day and felt strong.  I tuned into the ‘NOW’ and let adrenaline guide my actions.  Our first run was deep and plentiful!  By the time I got to the chair, I thought I was going to combust with stokeness.  It’s days like these I show my true colors! I have little to no composure on powder days.  Singing, laughing, screaming, dancing, smiling so fucking hard my face muscles start to cramp.  Solitude holds true to its name, there isn’t really such thing as waiting in line there.  The trees were stellar, perfectly spaced, with cliffs and features to jump-off galore!  Sending was encouraged, tomahawks frequent, and yard sales prevalent.

Everyone was pushing their limits, skiing harder and harder every run.  Harrison was throwing back-flips and boosting off cliff bands.  It always turns out that when you’re sending, your GoPro always seems to die, the memory card is full, or you have it positioned wrong!  Nevertheless, our buddies captured some good moments that day.

Our legs were noodles when we decided to call last run down to the car.  Eager to get down to the car and tend to my smashed toes, I was ready to bomb Homerun.  Then things went wrong. On my second turn into the run, I literally exploded for no reason, while yard-sale-ing and not so gracefully plummeting into a slick and bumpy run. There were many, many tomahawks as I skipped like a ragdoll over the mogul-filled minefield.  After gravity had its way with me and I finally came to a stop, I was shocked to be alive. It took a few minutes for the ringing to stop and realize I still had all my limbs. I looked up the hill to find my friends picking up my equipment across the entire run.  When they skied up, I saw that my skis didn’t look quite right.  Both skis had the heel piece of each binding missing! One of them had completely ripped out and the other had snapped in the middle.  Utterly confused on how this happened, and more shocked that I still had all my body-parts and ligaments attached, all I could do was laugh, shrug, and hitch a piggy-back ride down the mountain. Note to self: must buy burlier bindings.

My friends divided up the equipment to ski down with and Eric was volunteered as a human toboggan.  I told Eric to think of me as a big back-pack full of beer and we slowly plowed the rest of the way down.  Thanks Eric!

I got to the car where a PBR and bottle of Advil awaited me!  The day was a success, and I was more than ready for a hot tub!