Early April. Our line: 1600 vertical feet of strident New England skiing.
Approaching.
Approaching.
The skies are not looking promising...
Coming up under a mandatory air.
Greg, and a UFO-shaped cloud.
After we got to the top of the slide we thought it would be fun to continue bushwhacking up and ski from as high on the mountain as possible. We pressed through increasingly thick woods with skis on our backs, hoping to join up with the hiking trail to the summit. However, like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, neither the trail nor the summit ever became manifest so eventually we decided to sit on our packs and eat our bagels...
...and ski!
Erik getting ready to make an awkward move through brush into the gully.
Greg chopping the chunder below a ski-and-a-half wide section.
The photo is not taken from a good angle, but this drop fairly impressive.
Erik takes the mandatory.
Ahh, come skiing in New England and enjoy endless powder-filled gullies!
Or more accurately...Ahh, New England, where the skiing puts hair on your chest (assuming you stick with it).
Damn,that Greg guy is an awesome skier! And modest!
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