bounceswoosh
Ski Diva Extraordinaire
In which Bounceswoosh, @Kimmyt, @RachelV , their respective S.O.'s, and one small baby arrive in Crested Butte for an action-packed weekend.
Rachel skiing the aspen, probably Sunday
My trip to Crested Butte started in Breckenridge, where they reported 8" over 24 hours, although only 2" of those were overnight. DH and I took a lesson and somehow managed 18,000 feet of vertical by 1pm, when we headed back to the condo to pack up. Our instructor, Randy, is 70 years old and still ripping. It was my first time skiing with him. He showed us some fun lines I hadn't skied before - the same old runs, but from a fresh new perspective, and plenty of leftover fluff to be found. Good times. We ate lunch and headed down 285 toward Crested Butte.
Thursday night was bad enough to make me want to turn around and drive right back home. I'd been hungry for most of the drive from Breck, so honestly, I was in a foul mood. I just wanted to get some food in my belly, but for some reason we decided to unpack the car first, which required finding the condo. It took us an inordinate amount of time to figure out that in order to get to the condo, we had to ascend the first flight of stairs, then go around the building, walk out onto the snow, and then stomp up two more flights of outdoor stairs at the back of the building. If these directions are hard to follow, they are even harder to figure out in the dark when you are HANGRY.
When I finally had a chance to eat, my GI system had a complete meltdown. To top it off, the overnight parking situation in Crested Butte is absolutely insane. We were under the impression that there was only one parking pass for the condo, and the other two cars would need to find overnight parking elsewhere. But as it turns out, you cannot buy an overnight parking spot in Crested Butte. It just doesn't exist. You park where you stay, or you're screwed. DH and I had finished searching Mt Crested Butte and were driving the grid of Crested Butte proper searching for parking, strongly considering aborting the whole trip, when Kim called with good news: she'd reached the condo owner, and we would be able to park in the condo lot, after all. We returned to the condo; I gave up and went to bed.
Okay, enough of the bad stuff. Friday morning, having had a decent night's sleep and a good breakfast, I shook off my funk and was finally able to appreciate our location: looking out of our window down onto the Silver Queen lift, with a few inches of fresh, and huge snowflakes falling. We didn't even have to tromp anywhere to get lift tickets - we got them in the admin office, two floors down.
I'm pretty sure I have my timelines and events a bit mixed up, but as my dad says, "Whose story is this, anyway?" Rachel and Kim can update as necessary.
Rachel's beau is currently an intermediate skier; several of us decided to join him for the morning, skiing blues on the Paradise and East River lifts. In retrospect, I'm not sure he was thrilled about having a pack of skilled skiers charging ahead, waiting, charging ahead, waiting, and then on the lift eagerly drilling him about whether he'd loved the fluffy snow on top of the groomer and offering unsolicited tips. But he was a good sport about it.
After a while, Rachel, Kim, and I split off to play in the trees to the right of the East River lift, then decided to explore the double blacks off the North Face T-Bar. This also allowed us to take a mission critical photo:
We skied a couple of runs up there. For me, they were challenging. More exposed (or barely hidden) rock than I'm used to. Trees + steeps + rock; I would have been more comfortable with two out of three. Which is not to say I didn't have fun! And honestly, I haven't been out of my comfort zone like that for a while, so it was a valuable experience - maybe helpful for Big Sky.
Rachel charging
Showing off my steezy fringe
Kim in her happy place
We also found a pretty hysterical sign. At the top of the North Face lift, we are notified that, should we find explosives, we are not to retrieve them. I wonder how many people brought "duds" back to the patrol shack before that sign went up.
I think I may have come in for lunch and never come back out. In fact, as I think about it, I don't think I ever skied a full day during this trip. Huh. Well, hey, it's vacation. That evening, DH and I joined Rachel and Rachel's guy at the Secret Stash, where they serve interesting pizzas - including gluten free ones! They also have GF pasta. I was happy. I've never seen so many Om symbols in a pizza joint. Interesting place. I approve. I acquired a Colorado-legal watermelon gummy candy, which mercifully did not hit until I got back to the condo. I think it just acted as a sleep aid, which wasn't the worst thing.
To Be Continued
Rachel skiing the aspen, probably Sunday
My trip to Crested Butte started in Breckenridge, where they reported 8" over 24 hours, although only 2" of those were overnight. DH and I took a lesson and somehow managed 18,000 feet of vertical by 1pm, when we headed back to the condo to pack up. Our instructor, Randy, is 70 years old and still ripping. It was my first time skiing with him. He showed us some fun lines I hadn't skied before - the same old runs, but from a fresh new perspective, and plenty of leftover fluff to be found. Good times. We ate lunch and headed down 285 toward Crested Butte.
Thursday night was bad enough to make me want to turn around and drive right back home. I'd been hungry for most of the drive from Breck, so honestly, I was in a foul mood. I just wanted to get some food in my belly, but for some reason we decided to unpack the car first, which required finding the condo. It took us an inordinate amount of time to figure out that in order to get to the condo, we had to ascend the first flight of stairs, then go around the building, walk out onto the snow, and then stomp up two more flights of outdoor stairs at the back of the building. If these directions are hard to follow, they are even harder to figure out in the dark when you are HANGRY.
When I finally had a chance to eat, my GI system had a complete meltdown. To top it off, the overnight parking situation in Crested Butte is absolutely insane. We were under the impression that there was only one parking pass for the condo, and the other two cars would need to find overnight parking elsewhere. But as it turns out, you cannot buy an overnight parking spot in Crested Butte. It just doesn't exist. You park where you stay, or you're screwed. DH and I had finished searching Mt Crested Butte and were driving the grid of Crested Butte proper searching for parking, strongly considering aborting the whole trip, when Kim called with good news: she'd reached the condo owner, and we would be able to park in the condo lot, after all. We returned to the condo; I gave up and went to bed.
Okay, enough of the bad stuff. Friday morning, having had a decent night's sleep and a good breakfast, I shook off my funk and was finally able to appreciate our location: looking out of our window down onto the Silver Queen lift, with a few inches of fresh, and huge snowflakes falling. We didn't even have to tromp anywhere to get lift tickets - we got them in the admin office, two floors down.
I'm pretty sure I have my timelines and events a bit mixed up, but as my dad says, "Whose story is this, anyway?" Rachel and Kim can update as necessary.
Rachel's beau is currently an intermediate skier; several of us decided to join him for the morning, skiing blues on the Paradise and East River lifts. In retrospect, I'm not sure he was thrilled about having a pack of skilled skiers charging ahead, waiting, charging ahead, waiting, and then on the lift eagerly drilling him about whether he'd loved the fluffy snow on top of the groomer and offering unsolicited tips. But he was a good sport about it.
After a while, Rachel, Kim, and I split off to play in the trees to the right of the East River lift, then decided to explore the double blacks off the North Face T-Bar. This also allowed us to take a mission critical photo:
We skied a couple of runs up there. For me, they were challenging. More exposed (or barely hidden) rock than I'm used to. Trees + steeps + rock; I would have been more comfortable with two out of three. Which is not to say I didn't have fun! And honestly, I haven't been out of my comfort zone like that for a while, so it was a valuable experience - maybe helpful for Big Sky.
Rachel charging
Showing off my steezy fringe
Kim in her happy place
We also found a pretty hysterical sign. At the top of the North Face lift, we are notified that, should we find explosives, we are not to retrieve them. I wonder how many people brought "duds" back to the patrol shack before that sign went up.
I think I may have come in for lunch and never come back out. In fact, as I think about it, I don't think I ever skied a full day during this trip. Huh. Well, hey, it's vacation. That evening, DH and I joined Rachel and Rachel's guy at the Secret Stash, where they serve interesting pizzas - including gluten free ones! They also have GF pasta. I was happy. I've never seen so many Om symbols in a pizza joint. Interesting place. I approve. I acquired a Colorado-legal watermelon gummy candy, which mercifully did not hit until I got back to the condo. I think it just acted as a sleep aid, which wasn't the worst thing.
To Be Continued
