My old tele boots were a size too big, designed for touring, and I’ve been using them for four seasons now. My feet could have invited a whole other pair of feet to have a party inside them. So now I have shiny new boots that fit (and are designed for turns rather than touring). I plan to thoroughly test them as soon as possible.
And more snow. Soft and fluffy for a weekend at Mt Stirling, infinitely more appealing than paying $95 for a lift ticket to queue at Mt Buller.
Pointing and laughing at the people over on Buller
Because the snow? The snow was good. And we hardly had to share – certainly not with millions of snivelling school kids.
Tree lurking on horizon line as the sun sets.
Skiier lurking suspiciously on snow-covered mountain as the sun sets.
Then came the snow shovel races!
Meanwhile, we spent the weekend cowering in fear in the face of the fluoro yellow pants of DOOOOOM
Went to Snowshoe in West Virginia on the weekend. On top of all the snow they’d already been getting, there was 6 inches of new fresh powder on Friday night. It kept snowing all day Saturday, and was a bit foggy too, which led to fun as I checked out new runs, with the visibility suddenly plummeting down to 10 metres. The skiing was still great though. Sunday was beautiful and clear and warm (though a bit windy round the top of the mountain). I checked out the feared Western Territory and discovered the black runs there, although 1.5 miles long, and a hell of a lot of fun, probably aren’t as black as they claim to be. Well, at least by the standards I know (Mt Buller in other words).
Oh, and there were hardly any other telemarkers there – I saw one on Saturday, and one or two on Sunday. A lot of people were asking me about my strange bindings (and then about my strange accent). However, there were quite a few of those really short skis (that people use with no poles) around.
