Most of our "epic ski days" in this valley come on deep powder days in December or January. Days when we wake up to one, two feet of snow and go to stand in line at the lifts for two hours until the Patrol deems it safe to ski. Then we race with the crowds to the Bowls, to the Lower Bowls, to ungroomed Christmas Ridge, or to International and Exhibition. We share our unbounded joy with fellow Chairlift riders, fellow sick-day claimers, and wear ourselves out for an entire six hours.
Come March, most of us settle into our warm, sunny, casual Spring Skiing Routine. A routine in which we enjoy the slush of the afternoon sun, beers are clinked together at the end of the day, and we no longer worry about the lack of big storms coming our way. This morning was a little different. Today, March 4, we woke up to six inches of fresh snow, with the sticks measuring nine by midday.
It might not have been the biggest dump of the year. It might have not been the best snow of the season. And some of us might not have gotten up there at nine. But somehow, some of us, managed to get an epic ski day out of this powdery March Thursday and were reminded exactly why we live here, in Sun Valley.
No, it wasn’t a huge snowfall of early season proportions. But when you start down Upper River and the clouds part, revealing blue skies above and almost untracked snow below; you smile, hoot and holler, and know that this is a snow day of epic proportions.