Thursday, April 7, 2011

Conquering Monarch

All good things must come to an end; even the Beatles eventually went their separate ways.  Paul to a solo career, John to a premature death at the hand of an assassin, Ringo and that other guy to whatever it is that they did.  My ski season ending may not be as monumental as the Beatles' breakup, but it was still a sad event for me nonetheless.

Fortunately, I was able to end the season on a high note.  After a couple of rough outings complete with post-lift entanglements, icy, near-calamitous runs, and some severe body blows while learning how to board, I was able to get in a wonderful day exploring a new mountain with a nice fresh coat of powder to soften the landings and increase steerability.

All of this would not had been possible if my friend Matt hadn't bought a new car.  Not only did his Toyota Corolla come with a spoiler and that great new car smell, the dealer threw in a couple of tickets to Monarch.  And since Matt's wife took a trip home to visit family, and the tickets are expiring soon, I got to be Matt's back-up date.  Woo-hoo!

Matt and I had a blast, with Matt skiing and me splitting the day between boarding in the morning and skiing in the afternoon.  The most exciting part of the day proved to be riding one of the lifts, which went so fast when it picked you up that it literally lifted you off the ground as it was scooping you up.  (I realize the point of a lift is to lift you, but normally this happens a few seconds after you are seated, and is a linear process, not a sudden shooting up in the air as your posterior is making full contact).  Oddly enough it really didn't travel that quickly up the mountain, it just seemed to speed up right as it approached you from behind.

The weather was bright and sunny, and we had a blast.  I was eyeballing a set of mammoth jumps near the entrance to the park, and had finally decided to make a go at one when Matt announced his legs were done for the day.  Left with just one last trip down the slopes, I decided to take a final high-speed run down the blue that ended at the parking lot, rather than trying to catch some air and stick the landing.  So I have to thank Matt for getting tired, and probably saving me from destroying myself in one exhilarating and obliterating move.  Maybe next season.