Brats, Bikinis & Super Shredders
Head tilted back and eyes closed, I bask in the warm glow of the late morning sun. I try to discern the smell of whatever deliciousness is sizzling on the barbecue. I’m pretty sure it’s an American classic hamburger, but then the wind shifts slightly and I’m convinced it’s a bratwurst. Not just any bratwurst, but one from Wisconsin, simmered in beer, butter and onions. However, that could just be my family history hijacking my olfactory senses. I can hear the sounds of reggae, undoubtedly emanating from wherever that wonderful smell is being generated. Then, I’m jarred back into the moment as the chair I’m sitting in sways quickly to one side and I snap my eyes open.
Looking up, I see I’m almost to the top of the mountain and I’d better get ready to unload the chairlift. As I slide down the slushy ramp I can easily identify the sounds and smells I’d been previously enjoying as belonging to a large group of skiers gathered at the top of the mountain engaging in that particular form of late season ski revelry that can only be enjoyed in the spring.
After a long season of days that began with the startling sound of early morning alarms, I was more than happy to sleep in today and wake up when my body felt the time was right. As a dedicated skier, the bulk of my winter mornings require rising early either to head off to work on the mountain or simply to be first on the slopes in search of the ever-elusive fresh powder run. The arrival of spring, however, affords a skier the option to sleep in. It also rewards a late arrival to the hill, allowing for a relaxing morning sipping coffee and catching up on that stack of old magazines that have littered the coffee table since early December. You see, the thing about spring skiing is that often the morning slopes are frozen and only after the sun has had time to warm them into a carvable suppleness do they become truly enjoyable.
As I slide past the boisterous group of mountain-top revelers I exchange fist pumps with a few of my friends and wonder who is who among the many costume-clad warriors marking the day with that spring skiing tradition of wearing whatever strange outfit might suit one’s fancy.
My first few turns assure me that my years of experience are paying off as the snow gives under my ski edges, providing a feeling that can best be described as carving across a giant tub of freshly opened cream cheese. Gaining confidence and speed with each turn, the snow softens even more as I lose elevation and the surface changes from firm and smooth to more soft and granular, taking on a consistency that skiers everywhere refer to as “corn” snow. Slicing through the soft corn snow, I throw up a wall of slushy spray and hear the unique sound that only spring skiing can deliver. It reminds me of small rocks tumbling over each other as they’re pulled in and out by ocean waves or maybe like crushed glass sliding down a paved hill. With the sun’s rays beating off the moving granules, flashes of light shine back at me and sparkle in my eyes. The glass comparison seems even more accurate.
The almost effortlessly smooth skiing, glowing sunshine and clean, crisp spring air set my mind to wandering about the many things that make spring skiing so gratifying.
Story continues after a quick message from our sponsor below.
A ski morning in December always begins in the dark, requiring extra effort and perhaps an additional cup of coffee to pry open weary eyes. A morning in April, however, opens with sunshine and the promise of warm summer days to soon arrive. Where cold and stormy winter days create the need to cover up in varying layers of high-tech materials, warm spring days allow skiers to wear pretty much whatever they deem appropriate, which in some cases, is just barely that. Women in bikinis, teenage boys wearing nothing but baggy shorts and sporting bright red raspberry rashes from where the grainy snow has sanded their skin, skiers dressed as superheroes, grass skirts with Hawaiian shirts and leis. Backward baseball hats and goggle tans replace knit hats and hoods. A constrictive face mask required to prevent frostbite from the cold winter wind gets replaced by the tropical smell of sunscreen required to prevent that special kind of sunburn created when the sun’s rays are reflecting off of a world covered in white.
While a midseason ski day accompanied by fresh powder often leads to the “no friends on a powder day” attitude, late season spring days bring about the opposite. With the need to press hard all day seeking out fresh turns put completely aside, any given run on the hill might be intermittently riddled with small groups of riders simply sitting in the sun enjoying frosty beverages and sharing a laugh. While the bulk of the ski season is often a solitary experience, spring skiing seems to bring everyone together in the same way a summer backyard barbecue always seems to do. In the spring almost everyone is willing to wait a few extra minutes at the bottom of the chairlift for fellow riding friends. And the prevailing attitude seems to be that a sunny day is always better when shared with others.
Fun events seem to crawl out from under a comforter of snow as the days grow long and the sun shines warmer. Ski areas and resorts from coast to coast have their own, often legendary, spring events. From the East Coast at Tuckerman Ravine in New Hampshire where thousands of skiers in a single weekend will boot pack up the steep slope and risk embarrassment or even injury to conquer it’s glacial cirque, to Whistler Blackcomb out West where the World Ski and Snowboard festival draws riders from around the world to compete in events and enjoy Canada’s largest free outdoor concert series. Happenings of all types take over the slopes in spring.
It’s hard to find a snow-covered ski slope anywhere that doesn’t have something fun happening at some point in the spring.
Lift lines are shorter in spring as well, and lift tickets are often cheaper. Almost every ski area in North America, from the mom and pop T-bar variety to the mega corporate behemoth, offers discounts as the season winds down. And usually, discounts are not just on tickets. There are savings to be found on lodgings, food, drinks, lessons and let’s not forget those end-of-the-season gear deals. That pair of skis that seemed impossibly expensive in December is still new. But since it will be replaced by a newer version next season, it’s now almost affordable in April.
Back in the moment again, the run’s end nears, and I begin to see even more signs that this is an exemplary spring skiing day, indeed. The obligatory pond-skim course has been built and fi lled to the top with icy water. It’s just waiting for a bit later in the day when it will swallow up, and chill to the bone, any who fail to weight their skis or board properly and fl oat its entire length. The deck outside the bar is already half full with riders who have called it an early day, choosing to simply enjoy some rays and await the soon-to-come sounds of live music. As I push through the now boot-deep slush of the lower altitudes, I once again pick up the smell of grilling meat, and I lay eyes on another sure sign of spring: a slope side hot dog cart. Note to self: be sure to stop by and grab a dog for the next ride up.
As I’m about to load the chair, I’m quickly flanked by Superman and Wonder Woman. “Mind if we join you for the ride up?” they ask. Of course, I don’t mind. After all, what kind of spring skiing day would this be if I didn’t share at least one lift ride with a couple of costume-clad super shredders? With so many things to love about spring skiing, why would you want to put your skis away and let your season end early? It’s as though spring skiing is the cherry on top of a long ski-season sundae. N
By: John Grollmus
As Featured In: Winter/Spring 2018 SPO Edition