Early in the week, I received a call from my friend Chuck in Seattle, inviting me up to Mount Baker to join him and a group of his friends for a few days of skiing on the mountain. Not yet having a chance to make it to the slopes yet this year, I jumped at the opportunity and after working out a few things with my schedule, decided to leave on Friday morning for northern Washington.
A day later, due to a freak ice storm, western Washington found itself in declared State-of-Emergency leaving thousands without power and the entire city of Seattle in a complete standstill. Now, being from the mid-west, I'm used to this. You hunker down for a few hours and usually within half of a day, everything is in the clear. Not the Pacific Northwest. When they get hit with a storm of this caliber up here, everyone freaks out. They don't know what to do and the disaster remains a disaster for literally days. So, I was a bit nervous that the roads wouldn't be totally prepared for my 6+ hour drive up to Mount Baker from Portland. Luck was on my side, though. The temperatures has risen into the low 40's, offering enough of a light melt to allow some traction on the roads. The worst part was between Portland and Seattle, which was still in the midst of a onslaught of winter mix, freezing rain, and remained mostly out of power. Once I got north of Seattle though, the weather turned in my favor. The rain stopped, the ice disappeared and the sky even cleared up a bit. From that point on, I was able to peacefully enjoy the rest of the ride to Baker, sans white knuckles.
I arrived at Chuck's cabin just as dusk was turning into night. Kino and his dog Missy got along right off the bat, and after a nice dinner, a few drinks (including the shot-ski!) and introductions to the rest of his friends staying in the cabin, we all crashed for the night in preparation for a long day on the mountain the next morning. I barely even remember resting my head on the pillow.
We were on the mountain by 8:30am, traveling up Chair 6 into a complete white-out at 5000 feet. By the time we reached the top, I had mentally prepared myself for the "warmup" down the mountain. Now...this was a different experience for me. I consider myself a mid-advanced level skier. I'm not a pro, by any means, but the terrain I'm used to skiing on is that of the Northeastern parts of the U.S., New York, Vermont, Pennsylvania, etc. Experiencing powder there is nothing like the powder I was looking at on Baker that morning, which was nearly thigh deep in places. Wouldn't you know it, I didn't ski 50 feet before falling flat on my face.
I have to give Chuck some credit. He did wait for me for a full five minutes as fresh tracks were being laid through the powder below us. Then I heard a "...Sorry, man. I gotta go," as I was picking my happy ass up out of the powder for the fourth time. I waved him off and watched him disappear into the blind. For the rest of the morning, I worked at getting my legs under me. I took to some of the lighter hills and dropped through the trees, leaning back in my skis for the first time in years, allowing me to more or less, ride the powder as opposed to diving into it. Within an hour, I felt much more confident about my skiing abilities and took to the mountain's blacks, picking my way down slowly (a lack of health insurance will do that to you), but only loosing my footing once or twice.
After I met Chuck and the crew for lunch, I headed out with them and tackled some of the more difficult runs in the park. Our first hit was Pan-face, a nearly vertical drop off of Chair 6. I took my time on it, but I kept up with the guys, nonetheless. The rest of the afternoon, we dropped off almost every ledge on the west side of the mountain. There was some avalanche danger in the Canyon though, so we kept away from the inside. By the end of the day, I was physically destroyed and my face was coated in a thick layer of beard popsicles, but I felt great. Now that I'm out here, I'm going to have to get myself used to this skiing terrain as a norm.
Instead of heading straight back to the cabin, a few of us stopped over another one of the cottages for a bit of relaxing in the hot tub for a few hours before grabbing a bit of dinner. Afterwards, we stopped by another cabin for a party, where there was another hot tub, one of which we got in, sans suits. This wasn't a big deal, we are all adults, save for the one douche that...well...no point in rehashing that bit again. Refer to the first paragraph of this entry for more clarification if you, like me, have since tried to purge it from your tiny little brains.
The next morning, while Chuck and a few of the other guys decided to head out of bounds for a bit of touring, I hopped in the car for the long trip home. I figured it would take me upwards of 6 hours or so, with stops. I took my time, letting Kino out of the car occasionally for a quick run or to sit down and eat some food. I even paused at a rest stop south of Olympia to close my eyes for about 45 minutes or so as I was getting overwhelmed with exhaustion.
Chuck and his friends have that cabin for the remainder of the season, so if I get another chance to head up, I'll jump on it in a heartbeat. In the meantime, if I can get some time in on Mount Hood and a few of the other resorts between here and Seattle, I'm in. I can't possibly go the year with only having one ski trip under my belt. It's just an impossibility.
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