I've never driven too far east of LA. Turns out that's where the old west is. Or was. We even saw tumbleweed.
It takes about 5 hours to drive to Mammoth, which is a ski hill. After miles and miles of sage and plains with hills in the distance I was curious to see where the vertical rise comes in. It turns out the name is very apt: Mammoth is a ridge that lumbers along the windswept plains. It gets steep at the spine, which is also where the wind likes to scour you like a brillo pad, but mostly it ambles out lengthwise. This makes for lots and lots of chairs next to each other, and also makes it tough to end up where you want to, because just because you are above a ski lodge does not necessarily mean skiing downhill will get you there.
We bunked in a double double-bed room, all six of us. Six of us, and a lot of Coors Light and a Back to the Future marathon on TV. Fortunately, I grew up with an older brother, so I'm more likely to find farting funny than infuriating. This came in handy on the trip, as being give or take 10,000 feet above sea level and drinking lots of beer took its toll on everyone.
Being 10,000 feet above sea level took its toll on the skiing too. On Saturday I'd have to stop because I was out of breath, which usually never happens because the lactic burn will kick in well before. Later that day and on Sunday I got better at not panting so much (not dignified) and more into feeling like my legs were going to burst into flames.
The most important thing about the weekend was that the snow conditions were very good. Light, dry without being arid, and lots of it. Saturday was California sunny and even warm once you got moving fast. Sunday was an insane blizzard in which you fought to not be blown over and at the end of the day were surprised not to find snow in your navel, but whatever, the snow was still good. No fresh tracks to speak of, but a lot of snow to push around on some nice steep moguls, which is all I really ask for.
The best thing about lots of snow is how much no-consequence falling over you can do. I even bailed in the parking lot and landed on my face... in a nice soft pile of snow.
We drove down in the friscilating dusklight, with a lot of good music in the car.
Many thanks to Miss Sarah for organizing the trip. It would not have been possible to know in December how much I would need a weekend of having fun and laughing at stuff and skiing and eating and drinking beer at this point, but lo, I did, and lo, there it was.
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