As Julie, Carolyn, and I loaded the chairlift Friday night, thoughts of spring skiing and soft corn snow were swiftly swept away by temps in the teens and the sound of skis and snowboards scratching the hard-packed ice on the slopes below. Mid-March? Yikes, a few days earlier Julie and I had been gliding over the pristine conditions in Lake Tahoe and now we were bundled up like it was mid-January.
After several fast runs down the lit trails of Sunday River’s North Peak, we retreated to the Foggy Goggle for some warm après and friends.
While I was far from discontent, I wondered if spring was coming or if I needed a good stone grind to get me through the weekend, but as the Saturday afternoon sun crept up and shone brightly on the thousands of visitors to Sunday River, the glare got stronger and the snow softened. Smiles widened and grills in the parking lot sparked up.
By the time we packed up the car this afternoon, the snow had turned to mashed potatoes and both Julie and I were comparing the redness of our faces. In a short 48 hours, spring had arrived. It’s the best time of the year!