Wall of text and lots of rambling. Sorry. If nobody reads this its all good but I felt like I needed to type it.
When I woke up sick and exhausted, my hopes were pretty low for the day. I set myself in survival mode and began my day. If I could have pressed a button and skipped through the day, I would have done that in a heartbeat. Luckily my super powers are contained to the internet because had I done that, I would have missed the best day ever.
Feeling like shit I left my house to find that it had snowed. Nothing more than an inch or two but the first snow in town since I've been here. The day started off cold and cold, clearing ice trying to get the park up and running. In my head I kept thinking about how the lifts might not even open and the park might never see even one soul to shred it. Got some coffee and breakfast and pulled together a fragile bit of motivation and got to work cleaning up the park. The efforts of the previous day had been a lost cause, so the groundhog day vibe and the cold weather gave today a rough start.
Me and one of my coworkers got in the zone and started straight cutting all the takeoffs, getting everything square, and just giving the park a nice cleaning with the hopes that people would come and it would be a good day.
Mid morning the visibility was still questionable but the lifts were open and the sesh was on. The snow was good but the vibe was amazing. Everyone hiking and just throwing down. Even the kids were killing it. I wasn't even riding but the energy of the sesh pulled me in.
Then out of nowhere, the cloud decided to bail and it turned into an unreal bluebird day. Easily the most beautiful weather since I've been in NZ. The lifts are supposed to close at 4 but they were loading chairs on the highest lift at that time and the park sesh was still going in full force. I only took a few runs but it felt amazing just being a part of it.
Near the end we decided to go up top and get one legit run in for the day. Went way out in some powder, dropped through some mellow chutes and got some proper leaned out laid back turns in.
A nice sunset on the ride down with the moon coming up from the other side made for a picturesque ending to the day.
It made me think about that stoke that keeps us out there, those epic days that we all chase, and the reason the mountain holds such an importance to us. It's not a hobby, it's a passion, an addiction. When you're intertwined with something to the point you can't live without it and can't explain it to people. The mountain is our sanctuary. Nothing in life matters when you're in that moment, it's that freedom, whether shared or a solo journey. I can't think of the words because there really are none. Days like this pull at me and remind me of all the things this sport has gotten me through. Over two decades through good times and bad, the mountain was there. I'm fucking tearing up just writing this. It was just one of those days where everything aligns in a way that touches your soul.
Sparknotes: Thought I was going to have a bad day, ended up having a day that left me so stoked on life I can't even describe it.
If anyone actually read any of it or even clicked this thread, what was your "best day ever" or moments on the the hill that moved you.
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