Noah's Adventures

Friday, April 5th–A huge, unexpected spring storm had dumped nearly a foot of snow across New England, and I knew I had to make the most of it. Down on campus, we had received close to eight inches, which, by my precise calculations of n+5 meant that the Snowbowl must have gotten close to a foot.

Without a second thought, I gave Aksel and Max a call, thereby organizing an official group mission. We ate a quick lunch, and loaded up Max’s 2015 Tacoma. As we drove through East Middlebury, and eventually Ripton, the stoke couldn’t be any higher. A true foot of light, fluffy snow had fallen overnight, and the trees, roads, and roofs were caked in it.

As we pulled into the Snowbowl, the front end of the lot was packed. The go-getter skiers were all here, and I recognized a number of friends from campus. We unloaded briskly and slapped skins on our skis. The snow was waiting and we didn’t waste any time.

Instead of taking the usual Proctor ascent, I convinced our party to climb the Ross trail. I had just taken it the day prior, and I preferred the “get the hard stuff out of the way first” nature of it. Max, on the other hand, didn’t. “I hate that it’s flat here,” and “I like Proctor better” were two things that came out of his mouth.

Regardless, the approach was a stunning winter scene. We reflected on how lucky we are to have access to such a unique mountain so close to campus.

Reaching the summit, we debated which run to take. With my persuasion, we snuck into the Allen trees, which to me, is the best possibility on a deep day.

I skied a ways ahead with the camera, setting up in a good location in order to take some “dope nasty” quality photos. Once in position, I gave a shout to my friends above, signaling them that the coast was clear.

The snow was impeccable. The steep terrain, tight forest, and granular, light snow made for an incredible and plain fun descent. We stopped atop a large boulder, and prepared for launch. First Aksel, then me. It was a solid 10 feet of airtime and joy.

Of course, the adventure didn’t come without challenges. Though Aksel and I came out unscathed, Max hit numerous hidden logs and rocks, etching timeless memories into the bases of his skis. Shouts of “sh**!” and “no f**king way” signaled his interactions with the not-so-soft surface that lay below the powder.

By the end of the run, we were out of breath and overjoyed. Well, maybe a little less so for Max. Anyhow, it was a testament to the fact that April doesn’t necessarily mark the end of the ski season.

Back at the car, we leaned into the aprés vibe. Despite our apparent need to “get back to campus so we can finish up our homework,” we schmoozed and sipped non-alcolohic beverages for some time before departing. Just another day at the bowl.