The Definition of Pooping

After a 2-week hiatus from snowriding over the holidays, I finally got back at it. We celebrated New Years' Eve on Wisconsin time, in order to go to bed early and ride the poo at Stevens New Years' Day. We didn't get the dump we were hoping for, but it was still a fun day of groomers, off-piste breakable crusts (yes, multiple crusts: ask Steve about his arm dragging on the final run that involved crust layers at his armpit, elbow, and wrist), and park riding (which included some rails, a lay back method over 'The Waterfall', and an "oh shit, here comes knee surgery" flat landing - knees sore but OK).

After that marathon, we decided to make Baker a game time decision on Saturday because the snow levels and predictions kept waffling between rain and snow. Woke up at 0430: snow report not updated yet. Hit snooze twice. 0450: no word yet. Hit snooze twice. 0510: Baker 15" of new. Call Steve: "I'm in." 0550 depart for Baker.

Pictures from Mt. Baker yesterday: the definition of pooping.

Where's Waldo?


About 30 seconds after this picture Mother Nature literally pooped on me, releasing snow from tree branches right on my head.


Look at the size of the turd on Steve's face!

Being tired, having witnessed some instability in bounds and the 2-hour delayed opening of Chair 1 for avalanche control at Baker, and hearing reports of "shooting cracks" and "whoompfing," we scrapped plans for a day in the backcountry today. Avalanche danger is "only" "considerable," but it seemed like if we went where the snow was good it could be sketchy and if we went where it was safe it might be the layer cake Steve's arm experienced. See mom, it starts with planning at home, not with searching for your friends with an avalanche transceiver.

Time to work on the house.