Skilasnow
07-07-2004, 01:12 PM
Skilas, Harkin, SkibumX,
We three met at the B-H ski club in Bartlett, NH with bluebird skies at exactly mid-late morning. Timing could not have been more spot on if we were NASA.
Having tried on Skibum's 2 full sizes too big ski boots with three pairs of heavy boot socks, we were good to go with one pair of skis and one pair of boots. Drive to Pinkham, 1/2 hour getting ready, I was waiting most of that time, ;) , we were on the trail.
We made excellent time, but we really never bothered to check just how we did, we no-stopped HoJos and proceeded up the staircase. Finally, upon entering the bowl, around meeting rock, we spotted white, well a speckled white to be fair, or even more accurately, a white-specked-mottled-brown.
At this point, it was thought of, "who get's to go first?" I was quick to point out that though we all had split up the equipment required to ski this patch, I carried the reward!!! :beer:
A smaller patch was then seen higher up and we wondered, "Could that be continuous?" If so, we had a good 75-100 yds of continuous turns.
We rounded a corner and BEHOLD, the sight layed out before us was one of mystery and wonderment, enthralling to the last, mesmerizing in its audacity to tenaciously cling to rocks and allow us to turn in July. Indeed the two patches were connected, more or less.
A few people were there checking out the snow arch and waterfall and, with great surprise, waited for us to make first tracks. I was quick to not disappoint and immediately started booting up. As I hiked up, skis in hand, my partners in psychosis prepped their SLRs, both Cannons, and a few other spectators gathered to watch the lunacy with some of the most incredulous expressions I have ever seen.
(I must digress here to explain what I saw on the way to Pinkham: at a small construction zone traffic was limited to one lane. Harkin was in front of me on his Goldwing, with skis and boots firmly attached. When our traffic passed the traffic director he pulled the most classic cartoon double take, right out of Merrie Melodies. He followed Harkin with his eyes and turned back. After an extended pause, he shook his head rapidly, as if a swarm of gnats had invaded his personal space, put knuckles to eyeballs as a balling baby might, and finally whipped his head around for a second look, agog, his chin hanging so low I could have chipped a golf ball into it from a bunker 40 feet away, and I $uck with a sand wedge.)
I clicked in and took off for five turns on the top section, a hop jump over a 12 inch gap, and 5 more turns at the bottom. There was joy. Many cheers and applause. Harkin went next and showed us how it was really down, executing tight jump turns he managed 13 turns and crossed the arch. He went back up for a quick second run and outdid himself with 14. Next up was Skibum, executing 9 turns, with one tight GS turn.
I clicked in again and other than a brief tip-crossing had another fun run, and the speed record for the day, a dubious honor.
Our beer stash was almost shrunk by a wet-brown-paper-bag incident but miraculously the can did not explode. The stash was twice found, and twice narrowly saved from the conscientious people desiring to remove litter from the mountain.
We stopped at Tuckerman's for dinner and waxed unpoetically about the days exploits and Harkin and I planned a return for this Sunday, my work schedule permitting.
Skibum assured us that he would take all 7or8 rolls of film to the 1hour developing and post some key shots by this evening.
We three met at the B-H ski club in Bartlett, NH with bluebird skies at exactly mid-late morning. Timing could not have been more spot on if we were NASA.
Having tried on Skibum's 2 full sizes too big ski boots with three pairs of heavy boot socks, we were good to go with one pair of skis and one pair of boots. Drive to Pinkham, 1/2 hour getting ready, I was waiting most of that time, ;) , we were on the trail.
We made excellent time, but we really never bothered to check just how we did, we no-stopped HoJos and proceeded up the staircase. Finally, upon entering the bowl, around meeting rock, we spotted white, well a speckled white to be fair, or even more accurately, a white-specked-mottled-brown.
At this point, it was thought of, "who get's to go first?" I was quick to point out that though we all had split up the equipment required to ski this patch, I carried the reward!!! :beer:
A smaller patch was then seen higher up and we wondered, "Could that be continuous?" If so, we had a good 75-100 yds of continuous turns.
We rounded a corner and BEHOLD, the sight layed out before us was one of mystery and wonderment, enthralling to the last, mesmerizing in its audacity to tenaciously cling to rocks and allow us to turn in July. Indeed the two patches were connected, more or less.
A few people were there checking out the snow arch and waterfall and, with great surprise, waited for us to make first tracks. I was quick to not disappoint and immediately started booting up. As I hiked up, skis in hand, my partners in psychosis prepped their SLRs, both Cannons, and a few other spectators gathered to watch the lunacy with some of the most incredulous expressions I have ever seen.
(I must digress here to explain what I saw on the way to Pinkham: at a small construction zone traffic was limited to one lane. Harkin was in front of me on his Goldwing, with skis and boots firmly attached. When our traffic passed the traffic director he pulled the most classic cartoon double take, right out of Merrie Melodies. He followed Harkin with his eyes and turned back. After an extended pause, he shook his head rapidly, as if a swarm of gnats had invaded his personal space, put knuckles to eyeballs as a balling baby might, and finally whipped his head around for a second look, agog, his chin hanging so low I could have chipped a golf ball into it from a bunker 40 feet away, and I $uck with a sand wedge.)
I clicked in and took off for five turns on the top section, a hop jump over a 12 inch gap, and 5 more turns at the bottom. There was joy. Many cheers and applause. Harkin went next and showed us how it was really down, executing tight jump turns he managed 13 turns and crossed the arch. He went back up for a quick second run and outdid himself with 14. Next up was Skibum, executing 9 turns, with one tight GS turn.
I clicked in again and other than a brief tip-crossing had another fun run, and the speed record for the day, a dubious honor.
Our beer stash was almost shrunk by a wet-brown-paper-bag incident but miraculously the can did not explode. The stash was twice found, and twice narrowly saved from the conscientious people desiring to remove litter from the mountain.
We stopped at Tuckerman's for dinner and waxed unpoetically about the days exploits and Harkin and I planned a return for this Sunday, my work schedule permitting.
Skibum assured us that he would take all 7or8 rolls of film to the 1hour developing and post some key shots by this evening.