There was no podium at Sommet Olympia, the crowds were light, and it seemed the only camera there to document a perfect day was mine. The mountain boasts an Olympic spirit in its name and on the trail map, but the only race was for fresh tracks and it was game on.
Like the recent olympics, this storm had simply appeared in the background of most people’s minds. After a demoralizing rain and thaw, the temperature plummeted and we were left with a foot of right side up pow, a grippy wet base hugging the firm surface underneath and the light and dry where it’s supposed to be, on top. If that didn’t solidify a gold medal day, the sun started to come out at 9am.
