I like bad weather.
Not the kind that scares you, but the kind that makes you feel isolated, at the mercy of Mother Nature's power, that makes you think at most you're a cog in the universe, and all that concerns you on a regular basis just isn't that important.
We got thirty inches of snow in the past three days. And now it's snowing again.
Don't believe the hype. Not all snowstorms in Colorado deliver the powder you see in pictures. If you want really light powder, go to Little Cottonwood Canyon in Utah, or maybe even Big Cottonwood Canyon, even though the ski areas there are not as good. But not Deer Valley and Park City. The altitude is lower and they're not in a box canyon and all of these places are not that far from Salt Lake City.
So you never truly feel isolated, civilization is just a hop away.
But it wasn't this way in college, when I spent four years in Middlebury, Vermont. Before FedEx, never mind Amazon. You felt you were living in the boonies, in your own world, and I liked that. But sometimes I didn't. Sometimes small towns have small town values, and... I grew up fifty miles from New York City and I've got an innate desire to feel the pulse, and you cannot feel the pulse in the country.
Which is why I now live in the city. All those people leaving California... Maybe you get lower taxes, but you lose a lot too. That feeling of being on the edge, the pulse, the feeling of freedom.
But to each his own.
Now in Utah, it can dump. That's what they used to say when I lived there. Four inches an hour. Very occasionally five. It's like God is shaking out a down pillow in the sky. You can barely see.
But it doesn't happen that way in Colorado. Instead, we tend to get a slow steady storm. It's coming down, but it's not overwhelming.
And it's not always light. The first day of this storm the snow was more akin to what you get in Vermont. They call it powder, but it's heavy. Real powder, the kind in your dreams... You can ski right through it like it's soap flakes. It's an amazing feeling. You feel your skis floating, they're not settled on the ground, and the snow is spraying and...you feel like you're in harmony with Mother Nature.
We had that kind of powder yesterday.
And I broke out my new powder skis.
The right tool makes all the difference, don't let anybody tell you otherwise. You wouldn't race Formula One in a Pinto and you wouldn't drive over Loveland Pass in a snowstorm in a rear wheel drive pickup with all season tires.
Of course people do this. There are those who believe snow tires are a rip-off. Despite endless YouTube videos delineating their ability to stop much more quickly.
And these same people believe one pair of skis is enough.
And we can talk about money, but the truth is many can afford the snow tires and the multiple pairs of skis, but they believe they're unnecessary.
They're just harming themselves. Undercutting the experience. With a fat enough pair of skis it's a completely different world.
So yesterday was one of those days where you didn't want to quit. And when I woke up today my body was as creaky as the Tin Man's in "The Wizard of Oz."
Yesterday I skied on 116s (that's millimeters, it represents the width of the ski at its waist). Today I took out my 104s, because I expected there too be some smooth areas as well as crud, but very little powder.
And the first few runs... Man was I stiff. But that's something many people don't learn from their parents, to persevere. What starts out unappealing oftentimes delivers rewards if you just stay at it.
And I did.
And then it started to snow. Heavily.
Now yesterday there was a moment... Well, about half an hour, where it snowed as heavily as it ever does in Vail. Meaning you have no idea where you are or where you're going. The trick is to ski near the trees, they add definition, but I was hitting an untracked spot and then I crossed a small roll and lost all perspective. Where was I? I stopped to reorient.
And then there was that moment at the top of the mountain when I was on the road I take ad infinitum and I wasn't quite sure where I was, which is intellectually impossible, but I was doubting myself there for a second, my emotions got the best of me.
And I did not get an early start today. And they did predict some snow at the end of the day. So I took my powder poles with the big baskets just in case... My everyday poles will sink.
And I'm out there with the holiday masses, who won't touch the crud (cut up powder) even if it's right in front for them, and it can be frustrating, but then...
It started coming down. Heavily. Not quite as heavily as that half hour period yesterday, but close.
It was like someone draped a blanket over the mountain. Everything got quieter. You felt more and more alone.
Many people peeled off. But the hard core remained.
We were all in our own bubbles.
Now when I grew up it still snowed in Southern Connecticut, oftentimes prodigiously. School got canceled. We played board games. We went out in the snow in our flannel-lined jeans and when they were soaked through we came back in and our mothers made us hot chocolate.
And the Middlebury College Snow Bowl was open seven days a week.
Now it's only open five. There's not enough business otherwise.
But I used to go every day.
I still go every day.
And it's snowing so hard that there starts to be powder. I was taking Overeasy, a connecting slope between Chair 2 and Chairs 3 & 4, and it was totally untracked. Only about two inches deep, but still there was that sensation, and it was effortless.
And ultimately riding up Chair 4 it was snowing and blowing and all I could do was steel myself against the elements.
Now if this was not a ski area with infrastructure, I'd be scared. Get yourself caught in a snowstorm in the middle of nowhere and...good luck.
Of course maybe you've got a new smartphone that speaks to the satellite, but...
It's kind of like FedEx not existing in the seventies, it would have been better if it did, but without it there's this feeling of man against nature. And you know nature is in control.
And as people are packing it in I'm fighting for every last run. I'm timing it out. I want to ski Overeasy once more but still have time for one run after that, to ski the mini-pow in what I call the Green Village. An easy area where the beginners won't touch the unpacked and the experts would never deign to go.
And I'm crossing the ridge from the top of 3 to the top of 2 and...
I can't see a f*cking thing. Sometimes they put up lights, on poles, so people have a frame of reference, but this storm came out of the blue.
It's just me and the elements.
I'm dressed appropriately. What is the Boy Scout motto, BE PREPARED?
But still, the snow is stinging my face and...
I feel so alive.
You never feel so alive as when you're close to death.
And you never feel so alive as when you're at the mercy of the elements.
Life is about individuals searching for connection. Can you really ever know someone, what's going on in their head?
And then there are those like Jerry Maguire, who can't bear to be alone.
But that feeling of peace, of knowing it's only you in the elements.
I love that.
--
Visit the archive:
lefsetz.com/wordpress/ --
Listen to the podcast:
-iHeart:
ihr.fm/2Gi5PFj -Apple:
apple.co/2ndmpvp --
www.twitter.com/lefsetz --
If you would like to subscribe to the LefsetzLetter,
www.lefsetz.com/lists/?p=subscribe&id=1 If you do not want to receive any more LefsetzLetters,
Unsubscribe To change your email address
this link 