By one in the afternoon, we’d already ditched every layer we could and we were still pretty hot. We were having a great day and it wasn’t over yet. Even as the racers’ families were packing up their cars, we were headed back up the lift sans coats. By then it was close to sixty degrees.
It was a far cry from my first run of the morning. With my son sleeping soundly down in the parking lot and the temps still hovering around freezing, I’d ridden up one of Mohawk Mountain’s several triple chairs. It was my third visit to the cool little family hill in Connecticut, and I knew where I wanted to start, all the way over to skiers’ right.
