Here's me, DickieJ and dear friend Annie circa 1973 at Saddleback Mountain in Rangeley, Maine.
And here's me and TimmyJ (and someone who we don't know, but I'm sure is very nice) circa Easter weekend 1986 also at Saddleback Mountain. Wearing Jams. Soaked to the bone. In heaven.
And here's how Saddleback looked when we arrived on Saturday, for the first time since the picture above. Blue skies, warm sun, tons and tons of people. (How did they find out about it? It's supposed to be a "best kept secret" but obviously some fink squealed.)
The crowds didn't stop us from enjoying the sunshine on the new barbecue deck. Mawan intended to spend the day parked by the fire, reading. The spring temps and sunshine quickly altered plans, and she enjoyed basking in the warmth (until it was time for the Annual Ski Patrol Auction).
We tried to talk DickieJ into getting some big air in the terrain park on the Wheeler Slope. We dubbed him The Flying Chourico, and offered a cash prize. He declined. Next time.
Oh, and we skied. Holy Moly did we ski. The conditions were beyond perfect. The weather was beyond perfect. Slow lift lines translated to wide open empty trails. It was a trip down memory lane, but with way better conditions. Mo needs to ski here. Soon. It was the second best day of skiing in my entire life.
And here's the first. Amanda and I skied on what I believe to be the most perfect ski day in history at Deer Valley back in March of 1999. Never experienced anything like it. Here we are with Russ at the end of the day, exhausted and blissed.
Thanks to Mom and Dad for bringing us up skiing at Saddleback. It's a special place, and we're very fortunate. Just please don't tell anyone about it. Now, to kidnap Mo for a day or two or three...
