November Snow in the Catskills

This has been a year of transition for my family. Our daughter is in her first year of college. My wife and I are building a house in New York, and planning to move in the first half of next year. And after forty years of employment with one company, I’m retiring. I’ll be honest, it hasn’t been easy keeping it all together.

Finishing our house and managing my exit from the company are taking priority. The season snuck up on me, even more so than usual, and I definitely don’t have my act together. Last weekend I skied Gore with a cotton teeshirt under my fleece. This weekend, I couldn’t even find my real camera.

The last 12 months have certainly been different, but some things haven’t changed. When Scottski texted me about skiing on Saturday, I answered the call. After four hours sleep, I rose Saturday morning at 3:15, brewed some coffee and headed north to the mountains.

I really am burned out on the driving, especially in the early morning hours before sunrise. I can’t tell if it’s because I see retirement as the light at the end of the tunnel, or because I’m turning 66. I can’t wait to live north of Albany — right in the middle of my zone — half way between Plattekill and Jay Peak.

On this drive I had a novel idea to pass the early morning hours. At 5am, I texted my mom, and told her to call me when she woke, if she wanted to chat. My dad passed in the spring, and I’ve been trying to see my mom at least once a week. I’d missed her last weekend when I was checking out construction progress and skiing Gore. Now I was headed to Belleayre. Reaching out to her was actually a really good idea. She’s up crazy early every day anyway. We got to catch up, and before I knew it, it was daylight.

I got to Scott’s house in the Catskills at 7am. Shout out to my best bro who started making scrambled eggs and bacon the moment I walked in the door. On these crazy early morning starts, I never want to eat before leaving home, but invariably I’m ravenous by 10am.

Scott had plans in the afternoon, and I wanted to head over to Plattekill to pick up my season pass after skiing Belleayre, so we headed west in separate vehicles.

As we moved further into the mountains there was more snow on the ground, a good sign. Driving up the hill into Highmount, it got much deeper. At the Tomahawk Lift the accumulated snow looked to be close to two feet deep. We booted up in our cars and got in line for the lift. Scott and I were position to be in the second foursome.

We were almost an hour early, and Scott wanted to hike a lap to make use of the time. I’m usually up for that stuff, but on four hours sleep, I lobbied to stay put in line and catch up on life. Ski friends are best friends, and like most of my best friends, I hadn’t seen him since last season.

Just before they allowed us on the lift, patrol came out and addressed the large and stretched out crowd. He explained that certain trails had ongoing snowmaking construction, and advised everyone, in the strongest possible terms, to avoid that terrain. And then we were off.

The skiing was excellent, if a bit tiring. Anything that hadn’t been groomed right before opening had a thick layer of cream cheese on it, that was consistent enough to ski, if you really paid close attention. I wouldn’t call it great snow, but I’m comfortable calling it great skiing. Exceptional considering it’s not even Thanksgiving yet.

On our first return to the lift, the line had gotten significantly shorter. In total we did eight or ten laps and never waited ten minutes. I commend Belle for aggressively managing the loading of the quad. I didn’t see an empty chair going up all morning.

By noon we called it. Scott and I took our boots off in the parking lot, had a quick bro-hug and went our separate ways. I headed west on Route 28 toward Arkville and then north on Route 30 towards Plattekill.

When I arrived the lodge was closed and locked up tight. I never thought to call ahead. I stood there looking up at the mountain, and thought about the possibilities for a minute. All that beautiful terrain was right in front of me and yeah, I am a passholder. Plus there was already a skin track.

I always carry skins now. It started on a powder day at Gore. The gondola was on windhold but the summit lifts were spinning. Some were already up top and others were skinning to the top of Bear Mountain. Now I never go anywhere without my skins.

I started climbing Overlook, the green trail served by the double chair. I remember when I skied hut-to-hut in Colorado, the guides always recommended taking the most direct and steepest route you could handle without slipping backward. This early in the season I’m not in ski-shape, so I chose the easiest way. It took me nearly an hour to climb 1000 vertical feet. Once at the top, I took another 30 minutes to add a layer, drink some water and take it all in. It was beautifully quiet and snowing lightly.

I had several options for my descent. My favorite trails at Plattekill are Plunge and Ridge Run. I chose Plunge, because I wanted take a picture of my favorite lift line from the top of the headwall. I’ve captured that same shot 1000 times and I love it every time.

My run down was glorious. The top section was very skiable and further down it was grabbier. I discovered that big GS turns, got me through the grab, and tele turns worked well on the lower angles below.

Looking ahead, I’m extremely excited about the future, moving to the mountains in the state that has always felt like home to me. After all these years of dreaming about it, I am ready.