I wish I had a comparison photo. Last Sunday looked to be the bitter end at Snow Valley. They'd done a fine job with the snow cats to get a few lines into passable shape (at least until the sun cooked everything), but the mountain was bare dirt everywhere but for a handful of thinly-covered runs. Today: they could have opened every lift on the mountain. Everything was covered, top to bottom.
I am trying to search my memory to remember a series of potent late-season storms such as we've had here in Southern California. It started with this and then there was this and this and now...this. You'd almost think we weren't having a totally sucky year down here!
Yesterday about 2 p.m. in the San Jacintos, I crawled back up the tram walkway, stashed my skis against the wall, and sat down for a slice of pizza and a cold bottle of water. Powder laps on my Czars had my hip flexors totally wasted (it's a 14lb "touring" rig). I was dehydrated, a little shaky, exhausted beyond belief. I just sat there a moment, head down, taking deep breaths, and then I broke into this wild grin. What treasures our local mountains are, especially when transformed overnight by a fierce Pacific storm. Sometimes life is sweet, no?
SoCal Rains; Mountain Snows
The Well-Cooked Andy
A Very Cool August
Wahoo Gullies Are Burnt