Yes. This is the single worst cover photo for a powder report in the history of 7YW. So kids, what did we learn? Charge the f'n battery when it's going to be sub zero, arctic, chill.

So the report, sans photos.

I pulled off the double pow attack for the second time this season, meeting up with J-Mac at 6-ish am in the MRG parking lot. We skinned up to the summit with a minimum number, at least for us, of hacking and spitting breaks. After our long hard slog, we were greeted by some stereotypical skiers, delightful. One such dick spotted us in transition from the covert skis to snowboard, and blurted out, "Ugh, guess it is snowboarder season.", followed by what I interpreted as a chuckle. I quickly responded, loud enough for at least me to hear, "third day up here this year." Which amounts to the total number of powder days MRG has had (that would have been nice to add, if I had thought of it at the time). The aforementioned cockhead continued on his rant, "have fun on Liftline" followed by what I once again interpreted as a chuckle. This stung, because that was the run we were going to do, but now, with the weight of some pompous gearhead's cynicism, we had to head further north to the skier's paradise. I steamed a bit further as I finished the transition and decided I might go over to confront the wise one. Unfortunately when I turned the corner all I saw was a sea of technical clothing, christ skiers all look the same.

Some Words:

J-Mac and I suited up and followed the technerds over towards the supposed Paradise. This is the only photo acquired on what was the best pow day of the year, a highly flattering shot of J-Mac. We ripped down Fall Line, electing to not venture into the unknown of Paradise. The incoherence of the fall line of Fall Line continues to astound me and half way down I was starting to think that some higher level reverse psychology had been pulled on me. Anyhow, my mellow became less harshed, and we proceeded to shred the early morning pow, gaining snow in the facial area multiple times. We both finished our runs with the customary faceshot in front of the liftline. I did hear a few cheers from the assembled crowd, that made me feel a little better about my skier brethren.

I bid J-Mac a fine adieu (that's good bye) and headed over to Sugarbush to meet up with my sister. When I found her in the lift line, she was already glowing, having shredded the early pow. Things on the big slope looked pretty chewed, so we headed over to our old stash. Many runs of untouched were had, some were in the trees, off the piste, I got frostbite on my nose and we drank beers in the lodge. The end.