The early morning call to run up to Stowe was a good one, as Scott noted in 
the pic:
>>Jim, Stan and I went back for more this morning.  Looking at the view from
>>100 we couldn't believe our eyes.

Revenge is sweet. You see, I spend the summer and fall months when there is 
no skiing on my mountain bike. Many of my ski buddies are also my riding 
buddies, and among this crew there is no mercy...we hammer out the riding 
or ski hiking at the fastest pace of the fastest biker/ski hiker. But in 
the warm months I am not a hero. I am "Drag Bag," "Last Place Sally," "B 
Team" or "Let's wait, he will miss the turn."

So it is understandable that by saturday morning, well rested and fueled, I 
was ready to get some revenge on my tormentors (Scott and particularly 

The snow had firmed, there was a good skin track, and even some bait out in 
front, in the form of John Wulf, hard-charger and at least ten years youger 
than me. Wulf had set out ahead with tele skier extra-ordinare Matt 
Mancini, some guys from Backcountry Mag, and the dude that owns Irie Cycles 
in stowe, Hardy Avery. All of the ones I had heard of are top level 
bikers/skiers...Wulf had said hello, but then excused himself to go ahead 
witht he "A" team...assuming I suppose, that I would be dragging like I was 
on a bike ride. This condescending attitude is what I am supposed to have, 
not this punk, I thought to myself...

Eventually we set out, but the "A" team had a good 15 minute lead. At first 
I didn't really try to catch them, but as we gomered up Nosedive, and Stan 
and Scott fell behind, I could see them in the distance. Young, famous, 
rich, maybe, better skiers, yes, but better skinners? "NO!" I shouted to my 

I put the boots to the skin track, trying to move a pace or two harder than 
I felt I could sustain. On the less steep pitches, I motored at max, the 
sweat dripping. I didn't let up. I wanted to catch them more than I wanted 
fresh tracks. It began to work...I began slowly reel them in. I noticed 
that one guy was straggling a bit...blood in the water...I felt my heart 
trying to pop out of my chest, but I kept hammering, hammering after them, 
those self-assured ski hereoes...

I did catch the one dude, a snowboarder, exhaustedly dragging his board on 
that first steep pitch on Nosedive. But as I passed him, I noticed he was a 
gomer, not a hero. Maybe he wasn't with the "A" team? Maybe I didn't catch 
them? Maybe I am really just a "B" team skier and a "B" team skinner? Maybe 
I am worthless? Maybe I should stay home and rake the yard? These thoughts 
raced through my mind as I completed the final pitch to the top. 

There they were, the "A" team. I had caught them, but not passed 
them...they had made it to the top a moment or two before I did. I skied 
up, sweat dripping from my shaved head, a wild look in my exhausted eyes. 
But to my amazement, Wulf and the others proclaimed my worth. They were 
amazed that I had caught up with them, me, an old guy of 42, had caught the 
cream of Stowe skier society. Me, a has been washed up nordic skier from 
colchester VT had caught up to the guys who win tele races and make our ski 
mags, take our ski porn pictures and generally rule the roost. Maybe I 
still have it....maybe.

Scott said it:
>>Stan called for Goat.  We weren't sure if we'd find refrozen crud, 
>>crust or powder.  It was powder.
>>It was hard to believe our eyes.  October 28 for crying out loud!
>>We were the only ones this morning to venture down goat.  Untracked all 
>>Below the steep part, we each picked a lane. Stan on the left, me on the
>>right and Jimmy in the middle.  Untracked powder to the end.  Once off of
>>Goat, the numerous cat, ski and board tracks made for some difficult 
>> The sun softened skier's left and we bumped and thunked to the bottom of
>>Nosedive.  Once back in the lot, we learned that we had the morning's best
>>of what there was to take.  Reports from Starr were good, Chinclip so-so,
>>but Goat(before us) was virgin.  Breakfast at Macarthy's.  Three phat and
>>happy souls.
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