Praying for the Holy Grail of Snow Conditions . . .

Once upon a time, a group of us were skiing at Alta on a day in March. It was a storm day and an honest 6-10" had fallen by early afternoon. As we hopped on Wildcat for a lap in the 'Ho, the liftie pulled the "Closed" sign across the lift line behind us. At 2:30 p.m. "That's odd," we thought.

Before we heard the thunder, we heard the lift cables sizzling. No shit -- sizzling. And then came the lightning. The liftie at the top of Wildcat was abandoning ship by the time we got to the top. Later, we would hear rumors that the hippy in the top shack at Supreme was on his megaphone yelling "Save yourselves!!" A quick run down Collins Face and we retreated to the GMD for a pitcher. The storm had gone nuclear, the lifts were closed, and people were headed for their cars. We assumed our day was over.

But is wasn't. An hour later, the front passed and the lifts started turning again. And it was ON. Two inches of windbuffed graupel coated everything. The High-T was effortless and West Rustler was buffed-out silk-tastic-ness. Everyone who had enough vision (read: luck) to wait it out spent the next hour going very, very F-A-S-T.

Why bring this up now? Because this:


sounds like an afternoon of this:

Graupel a.k.a. silky ball bearings. Pure speed.

Keep your fingers crossed . . .