Dinner last night at 221 with Steve, Cyndi, Dave and Caroline. Steve and I rocked out on guitar and piano a twisted version of Zappa's "Magic Fingers". For about thirty seconds, then we fell into jam-till-it-hurts mode. Fun stuff.
Although the ski area is open for another week, this is my last day here. That's kind of a bummer as the conditions have been so exceptionally great. "I don't want to be done yet!" I've surely gotten better; but I guess this is it. Oh well, better go out there and ski it well. Looks like two more snowy days are on tap.
So day 6 was powder heaven. Went up 8 to 9 and did bushwack - plunge -bushwack -plunge -bushwack - hermit before lunch. This was the first day that bushwack was rolled ballroom flat. An inch or two had fallen on the corduroy by morning, making it an exceptionally easy decent. The smallish bumps on plunge were definately more fun.
Lunch was in some hellhole called "Skiers Union" in the mountain village. Stubborn and rude are understatements to describe the tallish ski instructor who went out of her way to be a jerk. Allreds at least filters out some of the rifraf.
Pumped up becuase it was the last afternoon, we skied under 9 until we could ski no more. I did five runs on Plunge where I hugged skiers right hard and then jumped into the bottom of "Powerline" that runs down from spiral stairs. Fun stuff in the steep and deep.
Steve in the good stuff:
Dinner at the bar at Honga's. Sarah made sure that not one, but two bamboo-cylinders of cold white sake keep us happy and warm.