Cheap booze aside, we did get the first real snowstorm of this season yesterday, although totals in the mountains are nothing impressive. With the prospect of another high pressure front moving in tonight/tomorrow, it appears we may still be waiting a little longer for the start of the ski season. I don't know why we skiers are in a hurry for the season to start? It does seem every year, like farmers sweating out a dryspell, we moan and complain about the absence of snow in November. I blame the ski resorts, Solitude and Brighton would be better served, snow wise, if they held off until December and instead, stretched the season a few weeks later into April. I suppose they do it though because just as our passion to ski proceeds conditions by at least a month, our spring fever to hike, camp and cycle usually takes over even when Ullr is still offering up great days on the mountain.
When Lexi witnessed my ritualistic pouring on the crest last week, she remarked how in any other circumstance, the dialogue with a celestial being might qualify me for psychological help but considering her familiarity with the accepted, organizational insanity of skiers, she would lay off spiking my oatmeal with Thorazine. I do somewhat agree, speaking to the sky and staining granite and quartzite with perfectly good alcohol seems excessive, but in this city, one only needs to look towards downtown and the golden statue on towers of grey granite to be reminded that we all take a few more things on faith than rational thought deems logical. So with that, I'll pull the framed picture of Ullr out of the closet and set an Alta shotglass of Jagr in front of it, hoping for the best.