February 18th, 2004, Hyak

Day 36<br>Hyak Ski Area <br>94" base reported at West with 4" new.  And raining.<br><br>Sometimes, the stars and the moons align, the winds of change are in your favor, and the universe is on your side.  Rarely, but sometimes.<br><br>I drove past Hyak at 12:00 noon today and glanced sadly through the rain soaked window at the new snow in the trees and wondered how high snow line had risen, and watched as the temperature gauge in the truck hovered at a ghastly 2 degrees Celsius as I crested the summit.   (I had yet to adjust the temperature gauge after accidentally hitting the Mode button, but somehow had grown to like the change.  It made me feel like I was in South America, or something silly like that.) Oh well, on to business in sunny Yakima.<br><br>Two hours later my Supermodel was screaming from the bed of the truck that enough was enough.  Shameful! That a New Englander would poo-poo skiing because of a little rain! I convinced myself I would make turns no matter what the tempest.  <br><br>Right on schedule near Exit 70 the rain began.  <br><br>At least it was warmer, I convinced myself.  And a warm bath was waiting at the end of my training run.  Rain be damned!<br><br>At about the time I resigned myself to fleeing torrents, the sun began to break out of the wispy clouds.  Arriving at Hyak I had wonderful views of Snoqualmie Mountain - what's this?  Shhhh!  I said to myself, and averted my eyes from the dark massing clouds rolling over the divide, close at hand.  <br><br>Now you've done it!<br><br>In the parking lot of Hyak, with a scant few other vehicles, I dressed in light weight clothes (the temp was now 4 degrees and quite balmy with a sprinkle or two in the winds) and as a last thought took off my jacket and decided to go in just poly pros.  Who cares if I got wet?<br><br>The slopes of closed Hyak were a smooth canvas of white, the 4" of new now a mashie, manky carpet of velvet.  My Supermodel drooled at the bounty, and I cut a trail straight for the top.  As I climbed, the sprinkle turned to sleet and then to light snow and then stopped.  I smiled down at the smooth snow and glanced over at Snoqualmie, now totally in sunshine and looking marvelous.  <br><br>Almost on cue, as I neared the top of the lifts, the sun broke over the ridgeline and bathed me in warm sunlight, the empty slopes now a happy spring snow day so far removed from the dreary rain shower of moments ago.  With little fan fare and much delight, I strapped on the board and took the slope in one fell swoop, carving fingertip to butt arcs in the uniform upper snow, only occasionally bottoming out when my dance became too frenzied and I carved too deeply.  <br><br>At the bottom, I wheeled around the empty slope in hopes of catching someone else's attention so I could share my glee.  But the ski area was empty. The workers had all gone home, the day skiers had fled and the commuters had yet to arrive.  It was only me standing in the wide open slope, shit eating grin on my face as I looked up at my masterpiece.  I had to do it again.<br><br>One Clif Bar and a few hand fulls of snow later and I was on top again.  2,000 vertical of climbing on a "Tar Bar" and sweat.  So easy!  <br><br>My window of opportunity was closing fast, huge dark clouds were now enveloping Alpental and Snoqualmie and the white wisps of snow from the underside foretold a fast change in weather...but not until I had another run in spotty sunshine that slowly gave way to clouds.<br><br>One more top to bottom run and I was smiling my way back down I-90.  <br><br>Rain?  What rain?     <br>