Woke to a beautiful day, filled with that perculiar anticipation for the first day on the hill, driving the quiet, early morning streets of Rossland, the familiar ritual of loading up people and gear, with a backdrop of the Rossland range bathed in a warm diffused light.
Kicked off with a tailgate party of sorts, a fry-up and coffee with our skis holding our place in the line-up. A relatively small (so many regulars working in these times of prosperity) but ethusiastic crowd ripped up the boot deep, frosted powder. Fast and easy skiing made for plenty of smiles. The firm base prevented contact with the ground (my new skis survived the day intact), except over rocky outcrops, but with less than a metre of accumulated snow (and Red’s non-existent summer groomimg program), there’s still lots of vegetation and debris poking through. The off-piste, in particular the steeper sections of Poochy’s trees and lower Route 66, was a real bushwacking adventure. By lunchtime the powder was chewed up, and though the cut-up snow on the Cliff remained in great shape, I found myself gazing across at the untracked Powder Fields, and eagerly anticipating the opening of Granite next Friday.