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After the mayhem and confusion of the morning, I found myself riding the fabled Single 
Chair into a serene world of fresh snow, steep terrain, and few skiers. Folowing my first run 
solo (Chute) I found myself in the company of a certain Mr. Mad River, who gleefully led me 
on a seek and destroy mission through various woods shots. 

Memories began to come back of skiing with other MRG heroes through these woods, and I 
instructed my guide to take me to all their favorite lines. I wanted the various "Mr. Mad 
Rivers" to see my frozen tracks, and think of me as they said to themselves, " who was 
skiing my line?"

First, we skied some runs through a signature line (Dave Bouchard/Shitbox Woods) making 
sure to track it up. Somewhere near there, we diced through a woods shot I know Ranger 
Renson loves to ski on the other side of the Single (sorry Mahhk!)

Then I said, "how about some golf?" And off we went, finding some sweet snow in places 
only Todd Fisher haunts (hope you don't mind, Todd). At the bottom of that run, my Guide 
and I stopped to talk to a very friendly Brian Mohr (certainly a contender for Mr. Mad River!) 
who was having a good day on the Mountain and was kind enough to invite me up on the 
West side later this week. I hope he come back to the list, BTW!

Then it was on to various wood shot I know Wesley likes. I don't have time now to describe 
exactly where they are, but as Wes says, "there are no secrets at MRG!" So wait for a later 
post. I am sure he wouldn't mind.

During this whole time, I was over confidently yelling out things like "I am a rock star!" and 
"We are rocking this place!" since I was having so much fun. My guide, Mr. Mad River, said to 
me in response, "Want to ski Triple Cliffs?"

Having never heard of that run, I arrogantly said, "Bring it on!" Which was a mistake--MRG 
always humbles the arrogant--and it was my turn, I guess. Let's just say that I didn't think 
MRG had much exposed terrain before yesterday...the big drops I could manage fine, but 
that one cliffy thang over a no-fall that has a mandatory icy log slide that drops onto ice and 
pungis wigged me out--but somehow I made it down...with stains in my pants, yes, but at 
least I stayed on my skis. Yikes!

After that, my knees were a bit weak, and I wasn't yelling "I am a rock star!" anymore. But 
of course, we run into another real Mr. Mad River, John Brownlee, who tours us out on a 
long, long round of golf. Despite the fatigue, my game came back, and I kept right on his 
skis, flying along, hooting and hollering all the way down, to a point way lower than I had 
skied before at MRG. It was a bit of a hike out, and I was cooked, and the day was over. I 
said pass on a last run with John, and my guide and I drank a reeb or two in the upper lot to 
celebrate. Good times...

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