I don’t know why I count ski days, and I’m not sure I want to know. I do know that I’ve averaged 35 days a season over the last five years with little variance. It’s become a bit of a benchmark for me. With 34 days this season and friends planning to rip under a sunny sky, I drove to Killington for Ski Day 35.
Sort of. Friday afternoon Zelda and I were to attend the “States” gymnastics meet about an hour north of home. As you might suspect, the wheels were in motion. I devised a two-car strategy to allow me to head directly from the competition to our place in the mountains, within striking distance of Big K.