Day One, Sixteen Inches of Powder
| Mt. Hood Meadows, OR
Like newborn lambs our knees were a shakin' as we hit our first run of the season. With 16" of fresh powder the stoke was high! FRESHIES ALL DAMN DAY.
Crammed like sardines into a 10x15 cabin we woke at the crack of dawn and hit the hill. A lot was riding on this day. Pride. Joy. Pain. Practice. Our upcoming backcountry trip to a yurt on the Montana/Idaho border meant sink or ski and we couldn't let each other down. Neither blizzards nor bourbon could take us from those powdery slopes!
A little warm-ya-up pit stop in the powdery pillows and folds.
Practice wouldn't make perfect, but it was definitely gonna help.
Arriving back at the car, our scientific snowfall measuring device (empty beer can), was buried deep in powder. With a full day under our belt and bruises slowly blooming, we felt good and ready for a long cat nap. Tomorrow would be another day, bring it!