Another insanely early morning, woke up around 5am, bundled into the car with Martin and Celeste (sorry if I spelled her name wrong) and headed out to the Sierra Nevada Mountains for skiing (at Kirkwood). The drive out was well worth it just for the scenery. Saw the sun rise up over the mountains, passed the largest windmill farm. Mark thought they all looked like an abstract art installation running along the top edges of the hills we zipped through. Mmmmm� highly nutritious breakfast at Burger King, fat, sugar, caffeine and processed meats (for those it applies to) to energize ourselves for the day. Passed a number of orchards and vineyards. It�s remarkable, this is the first time I've been significantly distanced from the eastern deciduous forests (which are quite lovely in and of themselves). It's odd to see stands dominated by dense, lush conifers, pines, gorgeous GREEN! (it�s very gray and bland at home currently) I'm sitting inside the ski lodge currently, extremely jealous not to be on the slopes. But it is wise for me to sit this out. Although having my wind knocked out of me by a careless snowboarder and some one else slamming a door into my back are plenty to remind me that sitting indoors with a cup of cocoa isn�t so bad. The mountains are incredible! The 'hills' back home won't look the same. People watching just isn't quite the same either, with everyone bundled into gear and heads covered. But the robot-walk is amusing, especially the people attempting to look super cool yet maintain a clumsy gait; Then there are the shuffler (admittedly, I'm a shuffler) who scoot along. I never realized just how ridiculous one looks� I went wandering around the lodge and took some pictures. I hope they turn out, it's super sunny and I was only using one of those disposable cameras, it would be cool to have a super zoom lens. Even better, I wish I had binoculars to watch these specks that are humans on the mountain side. The hillside with the most collision was a fairly shallow grade used by snowboarders, multi-person pile-ups so far (at least while I was watched for 15min, there were 20 collisions and wipeouts. Thimble Peak: 9876' the highest peak marked on the trail guide. Mark: 10,000 feet and the air is thin (or I'm really out of shape, probably both). My ears popped at least a dozen times on the drive up, once or twice more on the lifts. Martin makes the first run easy, a near vertical groomed slope. The snow is incredible, unlike anything I�ve skied on before, 15-30 feet deep base. It has been almost 5 years since I've gone skiing and in that time Martin has really improved. The first run is easy, but I find myself gasping for air. Another trip u the lift and this time we are tree skiing. I'm using Martin�s old skis� 195cm and they are hard for me to control. The 6" heavy powder and tight turns through the tress lands me on my ass more than once. By lunch time we are sticking to Black Diamonds, finally I begin to feel in control. The moguls are sweet, not the ice monsters from home. The large rock out-croppings at the top seem unnatural and deadly. My courage drains as my perspective changes. It is a hell of a lot steeper looking from the summit. I wish Deb could just ride the lift up� the view is spectacular. Wearing my old motorcycle rain suit keeps me warm but also keeps me moist. I have sweat at least a gallon and none has escaped my clothing. I am literally dripping when we stop for a break. We are constantly looking for jumps. Old age has tempered my enthusiasm. I double check each ridge and drop-off, scrub speed before each launch and stick to my trusty mini-spread eagle. Each lift ride finds me dreaming of back-scratchers, but on the slope I think of back boards and being fed through a tube. We still manage to pull off some neat runs. It's interesting that in the land of the law suit, there is so much personal freedoms. I see no ski patrols, jumps are marked, not barricaded, and the cool runs are marked with the skull and cross bones. It is effective� I think the lack of the ever-present 'man' trying to keep you safe kills the rebellion which fuels my desire to do unsafe acts. The last run is really hairy. It is to the very top of the mountain and the only way down is double black diamond. A brief moment of vertigo on the lift, combined with thin air and many hours of skiing leaves me with very little energy. The magic of my power bar lunch (a banana and toffee-like gravel) has long since been consumed. I manage some of my best skiing, before we hit some nasty snow conditions. Its not nearly so fun now and I make a point of just getting to the bottom and avoiding the jagged little peaks that stick up through the snow. I've skied as much as I wanted�I'm as good as I'll probably ever be and there are so many things I have yet to do. I�m guessing this will be my last ski trip� ending on a high note. I get to drive out of the mountains. I'm happy to be in control. The views are great, but the absence of back seat car sickness is even better.