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Hundred Days



The Mountain Pulse Jackson Hole

Strapping on my beacon in the predawn reminded me of a morning a month ago when I hit the snooze button on an eight inch report. Whata schmuck. Today’s four inches had me dressed, fed, and ready three hours before the first Tram would load and take off. If there was any good that came from this past draught, it was a much needed lesson in appreciation.

 As the lifts began to spin, the storm continued to rage, boasting northerly winds that scoured bowls and deposited powder in the mountain’s crevices. Elephant Tree to Paint Brush to Toilet Bowl honed the day’s full potential, especially in the tight trees where the gusting wind scarcely penetrated. At times the visibility was challenging, if not impossible. Flat light combined with driving snow caused carnage on bumped runs, where hidden moguls slept like land mines. Yet as the day continued, the gaps filled and riders were charging once again.

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