Sure Signs from the Big City.

You might usually see photos and stories here about shredding pow and the love we all have for skiing down slopes.But that's only half the story of skiing and riding. The other half happens when you aren't skiing--but thinking of it, or on your way to it. Recent weather events in town, for those of us who haven't been skiing every day, have been more about the appreciation of snow in an urban setting than skiing. And the appreciation of snow transcends activity and location. Walking down the hill in Nelson recently, I heard a women say she'd rather have -40 temps than all this snow. Is it just me or does ev-er-ybody disagree? I'd go for all this snow. 

Seeing the cars augured into the snowbanks that same day, I was struck by a weird sense of glee. Somehow, I was deriving extreme pleasure from seeing people's cars buried in snow. It wasn't mean spirited, I promise. It just made me feel a weird sense of shared immobility and that it's OK to go nowhere. That snow is a good thing. Cars are all about moving and that day many couldn't.Mother Nature had spoken (and she has spoken a lot lately).

What is this snow creature and why does it make me smile so? A new chapter from Le Petit Prince?

This was a day that I didn't ski--and it was OK. I worked.  I was happy playing desk jockey, imagining people whopping and hollering in the 30 fresh cms. I was also happy knowing that I'd be up at the hill the next morning--doing the same. Seeing the cars buried made me feel like a kid again, for sure. It also made me wonder: if the cars were buried down here, what was the situation up at the hill? The following day, when patrol opened Catch Basin Ski Way around 10:30 and I hit my magic line between Galena and High Grade, I got my answer.Nothing was buried. It was bottomless and spectacular. 

One of many buried cars that day

OK, last shot of a car in snow.