Yesterday my sister Jenna and I skied at Gunstock, NH. Gunstock is a relatively small, family-oriented ski area about an hour from our house, where all the trails and lifts are named after guns or gun-related paraphenalia. It is also where we both learned to ski in the 90s. Skiing in the east is sometimes something that can only be appreciated by those who grew up skiing here, and occasionally not even by those people.
The snow was relatively cooperative yesterday: We got a classic "Nor' Easter" that gave Gunstock close to a foot of snow (and two feet at some of the more Northern areas). Unfortunately, it fell on top of manmade-only snow, recognized by skiers from Western states as "ice." Still, a good amount of the snow managed to stay on the trails instead of being blown off into the woods. While it wasn't a "powder day" in any sense of the word I'm now accustomed to, it made for pretty decent surface conditions.
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| Looking down on Lake Winnipesaukee from the summit. Gunstock's snowmaking team hadn't yet got to the right half of this trail. |
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| In the 90s, and probably now also, this "trail", Tiger Steeps, was usually the only spot on the mountain left ungroomed. I remember it as a near-vertical face of sedan-size moguls. It is slightly less intimidating now. |
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| New England breeds great park skiers because most of the time, there's really not much else to do. A 14 year old skied past me and did a front flip off the first jump here. |
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| Ice frost on the chairlift bar. |
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| Jenna, learning to snowboard. |
By about 2pm we were cold enough that we were ready to call it a day. Ah, New England!
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| It isn't apparent in the picture, but we are freezin | g. |
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| It was windy during the day. We could tell because all the snow had retreated to one side of the car by the end of the day. |
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