Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ear…

The above is a tribute to what DB’s new haircut looks like after taking off his helmet…‘nuff said. What I’d really like to talk about is the AWESOME skiing that took place this past weekend. Pinch me, were we out West?? There were times that I was skiing through powder up to my knees that no one else had touched in days… Whaaaat, you may say?? Were you at that 8 peaks, infinity snow mountain??…NO! Were you at that resort next to the Pickle Barrel???…NO! Did you take a quick weekend trip to Utah?? Again…I…say…NO!!! We were at what I am dubbing the sleeper mountain of the East – Black Mountain - in the deceptively, lovely Jackson, NH. And I say deceptive because there are some trails in the bucolic town of Jackson that will make your hair stand on end and turn your knuckles white (as can be attested by the trail “White Knuckle”). The snow was gently falling, our tracks from one run to the next were covered and my legs are still feeling the burn!
Some in our party (that included Lucky Jeans, Kiwi, Private Dancer, Danger Boy and Spider Pig) had the impression that this small, “family” mountain wouldn’t “challenge” them enough. Mr. “I kind of like that little out of control feeling” maybe had his britches shrunk a bit after taking a few trips down surprisingly narrow, steep pitches and some extreme skiing on a slippery slope called “Mr. Rew”. Now, I don’t know who Mr. Rew is, but I think maybe he was a little crazy and decided to cut a trail straight down the steepest part of the mountain and call it a day. I think almost everyone (Speed Racer excluded!) in our crew had a face plant, or two, or three, at some point in the day. Not to say that the mountain doesn’t have something to offer every ability. There are some very quaint tree lined trails that are quintessential old-school New England. The stuff resorts out West take their queue from. Open fields, trails gently winding throughout the mountain all uniting near a paddock of horses grazing outside…a scene right out of a Norman Rockwell painting.
We ended our idyllic day with burgers, beers & spiked hot cocoa at the Wildcat Tavern, also in Jackson. There’ve had new owners for a few years that took away all the fun pig paraphernalia and “fancified” the pub a little bit, but I do still really like the place. They have two fireplaces, a big couch and leather chair and a very friendly wait staff. I can’t remember the name of our server, but he was a very pleasant fellow. I’m hoping there are no repercussions from our rogue placement of logs in the fireplace. Actually, there was a great quote from the bartender….”If you’re going to do my job, I’m going to sit down and drink your beer!”