I now know what the true meaning of “it’s dumping” means. We got 26″ in 24 hours and there was even more that fell if you were south. It was the most snow in the shortest amount of time I’ve ever seen.
I was essentially stuck. Forget the bread and milk, I headed for a bottle of wine (or two), as there was NO way I was even digging myself out of my parking lot. I did, however, try to ski down it, and realized there was not enough slope and way to much snow for me to get anywhere. The guy pictured above figured it’d be better to go the already plowed route. You live and you learn:
I was finally freed from my snow-jail around noon on Sunday afternoon, when I held my breath and busted my FWD Kia out of the lot and headed south. Yes, south, to Wisp.
I took advantage of the Regional Resort Swap with my Snowshoe pass, and to my surprise, I skied 36″ of powder at no cost. Thank God, because my body was NOT ready for that!
Damn, did my legs burn. I don’t ski Wisp much, as West Virginia usually trumps my choice for southern ski states, but I happened to ski into a section of Wisp called North Camp. The entire vibe of every rider was different here – powderhounds of all ages. The front side seemed a bit overcrowded with people that were wishing for groomed terrain and weren’t finding it, and back at North Camp spirits were high and smiles were big. Lots of conversations with happy strangers and cheering kits sending it off a lip under the lift. All in all, North Camp is where it was at. It was a good day.
Always a fan of opposites, the next day I ended up pretty much as south as I could go in the US… Florida.