Finally, finally, finally we got a taste of winter in late February. And it started with a little bit of magic. On February 24, Jason called a storm, a lake cutter, that would track to our west, and deliver snow. I’d never heard of significant snow falling on the warm side of the storm before, but like most skiers across the northeast, I wasn’t arguing with the call.
Plans were adjusted, and I made a run for Gore on Saturday morning, and rolled into the parking lot before noon. I booted up in the car, and walked straight to the triple to grab some turns in the new snow. I knew the place would be crawling with potential ski partners. I figured I’d do laps on the darkside and see who came out of the woodwork.