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Sunday, 3:50 PM. Stowe Mountain Resort was virtually deserted. All  
the out of town party goers were gone. Kulas, ScottB and ScottD and  
kids were last seen on hour or more earlier. Baumans were certainly  
on the road by then.

So it was just me and some kid. We got on the quad. At the top, the  
skies opened and released the heaviest snow squall of the day. We  
rocketed down Toll road, amongst rime covered pines and pounding snow  
pellets. The silky smooth surface only improved with the loss of  
elevation. We cut untracked snow -- ok, just a couple of inches at  
most -- but untracked nonetheless -- for at least a mile down to the  
Toll House parking lot. Just me and the kid. Just like my Dad and I,  
thirty or more years ago. We made figure eights and giggled and the  
snow continued to fall like it was mid January.

This is what it's all about. Friends, family, skiing. Thanks, everybody.

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