It seemed like a distant memory, really. It was certainly unlike anything I’d encountered in the last couple weeks. Yet, there was something strangely familiar about it. The faint hum of the chairlift against a backdrop of quiet. The snow covered trees standing sturdy under a fresh flocking.
This reminds me of something…but what? It wasn’t until my skis plunged off the ridge and dipped into the freshly fallen snow that it clicked. This. Feels. Like. BRUNDAGE.
From the familiar fog layer hugging the mountain for the first runs of the day…
To the way the snow drifts in just a little deeper over a certain pitch…
It’s exactly what we’d been missing, and yet, exactly what we expected to find.
In this moment, what was familiar was not the least bit routine. In fact, it was cause for celebration.
The first trickle of riders down Alpine moments after the first loaded chairs reach the summit.
The smaller groups who find their turns farther off the beaten path.
The familiar set of powder 8’s streaming under the lift line.
A rainbow view of the mountain reflected in the shielded face of a friend.
Season pass holders flocking to the lift like moths to a flame.
A familiar glimmer of sunshine poking through the clouds.
A hood of snow thickening atop the Bear’s Den.
Nearly-deserted Main Street stretching out below the cloud line.
of sweet powdery goodness.
For the first time all season. It truly feels like Brundage.