That’s all the time there was on the clock at Mt Rose when I pulled up.
3:59.25 pm. Oh yeah, baby, timing is everything.
That 35 seconds meant I could take one more ride up the lift! I could take on the mountain with a final view of Washoe Valley and Carson City to the the south, Reno and the edges of the desert to the north. I could soar over the quiet slopes, drift between the shadows, quiet my mind and relax.
And the best part of the very last run on a Sunday? Everyone has already climbed back into their cars and prepared for the long drive home if they’re visiting from out of town.
The out of control, no looking around, just straight bombing kamikaze kids are gone. The people paying the crazy high day lift rates are so tired, trying to squeeze out every x-dollars-per-ski-run in y number of hours they can, getting exhausted in the process, are gone.
The idots who stop in front of the lift, clogging the entrance, not a clue in the world in spite of the lift operators who constantly ask them to “Keep moving”, and “Don’t block the entrance”, waiting for another clueless person to show up and just stand there with them, are gone.
Only the lifties and ski patrollers are left, and the few happy locals who managed to snag a last chair in the final seconds of the day…..are out there whooping it up, letting go of the rest of their leg strength, maybe racing a friend for beers down to the bottom of the Slide side.
Or maybe they are simply, quieting their own minds, slowly taking their time, looking around, meditating on the beauty and grace of another day skiing, a lucky few in a vast world of many who cannot enjoy this moment.
I did both. A little whooping is good for the lungs and the soul, and the quiet reflection fed my inner calm perfectly, so that the drive home was of joy and calm and happy.
I hope you had a real good day too.