Agro scene up there. Yesterday was one of the most glorious runs I can remember. The skin up to the chin was through the clouds. I get to the summit and we are floating on an island. The cloud layer was about 4000 feet and above that was bright sunshine and blueburd skys. Snow glistening, lightly blown in pow waiting for destruction, and the next closest group was a good 30 minutes behind us. Walking accross the ridgeline was like a dream. The chin, the nose, Madonna, and the top of spruce ridge were the only land masses visable and were an archapeligo in a sea of gently undulating foggy white. Pixie dust was blowing all around and everywhere you looked was twinkling. I got to a good vantage point and hung our for a good half hour. I watch the first coupla dudes drop in to Hourglass, and they slayed it. 2 more thru the chute that sloughed out allready a little less pretty. Hoots and echos bouncing around in the pass. Epic. I put together a really good run, getting into completely virgin snow on STEEP terrain and was totally tripping on endorphine, adrenaline, and visual over-stimulation. As I approach the resort I run into a
bunch of guys who I know from around town. 1 guy, in particular, I know more then the others, and some of them have done extensive cutting in the immediate area. I am so stoked that I roll up with a big "Howdy Boys!"
The response from the big, Fred Flintstone guy is, "Who's line did you just ski?" They all break out into belly laughs, and I immediately feel my mellow being harshed out so I quickly break out my skins and make ready for my next trip. I reply, knowing where he's going, "Yours....mine....George Bush's."
I try and change the subject by asking him how his run was the day before. I had heard he skiied a particularly gnar line and figured, since it's never hard to get him to talk about himself, he could blather on until I was ready to go. Instead he pulls the..."I have no Idea what you're talking about." Like it's a big secret all of the sudden when the day before he told so many people he was in there that I knew about it before I went to sleep that night. Again the frat-house-brothers break into chuckles so I figure, OK, I'm outta here. Then he starts grilling me....where you going now...I tell him and he says, I was gonna go there. I told him since he was riding the lift, he would prolly get there before me. Then he informs me that HE cut that line, so I thanked him. Then he throws out this back handed threat....."we could keep going down this road, but it's gonna end Badly!" He says over his shoulder as he starts to walk away.
Now, all memories of the religous experience that I had just had on my skis was push out by this guys negativity. I just turned 180 and went completely the other way. I mean, who TF am I. I get 2-3 runs a day. I am so low impact as compared to all the other folks lapping the hill day after day. He goes around all fall cutting lines while the rest of us have to work, AT THE AREA, then tries to lay claim to them and threat and intimidate people who he thinks might go ski them. W T F !
To me, if you want a stash, you can't cut it at the hill. Only a matter of time until your tracks get followed. 90 percent of the stuff I ski I've been shown by the cutter, or, as is the case with this particular line, I just stumbled into it last season while skiing with a friend from Northfield.
So, I'd be happy show anyone around this guy's "private stash". Make sure we really ski it in well for him so it's doesn't slide like it did last year.
Can you "own" a line you cut illegally on public land?
