Psych!

Remember a week or two back when the temps were in the high 60s? Maybe it was mid-60's. Whatever it was it felt like spring. I started going through the withdrawl symptoms of a ski season cut too short, melting snow, final days charging up to the mountains in search of schnee that would get me through half a day before it turned to slush. I was already mourning the passing of the ski season.

And then like that, winter returned. The rains, the winds, the snow. The blessed snow! Psych!

I drove up to Tahoe late Thursday night under dry conditions I hadn't experienced in what seemed like weeks. Through white-outs and blizzards, each weekend had somehow dropped a storm right in my path. This time around, with my Subaru freshly pimped out (new tires, new stereo, new oil), I had nothing but clear skies and open roads.

Of course, Friday brought rain to the region. Staying just outside of Tahoe City in Dollar Point with my friend Ken, we watched as the clouds gathered, the winds picked up and the raindrops fell. Alpine reported gusts of 60mph at the ridges and most of that mountain - and all of upper Squaw - was closed for the day. Guess I picked a good day to actually work from home.

But as evening settled in, the rain changed to snow and for the next 5-6 hours big, fat, fluffy flakes fell and coated everything that had been washed away earlier. With a fire roaring, we settled in to watch the Olympics and the snowfall. It was perfectly, once again, winter.

The next morning, the neighborhood covered in white, the streets still unplowed, Ken and I walked his dogs to a patch of land for sale that opened up to an incredible view of the lake and surrounding mountains. The quiet of the morning after a snowstorm is amazing.

But I can only take so much quiet so I jetted off to Squaw for the day meeting another friend, Holden, and Steve, MD, to rip around what was considerably heavy snow but nothing you couldn't get through with sheer strength and determination. Holden was a gamer, an intermediate boarder who was up for wherever we took him. By the end of the day he/we were fairly toasted and Holden, I suspect, even more when he said the next morning he was "beaten up."

Sidenote: Holden has been my general partner in crime when I hit the surf. We amuse ourselves when we/I can't catch waves by role-playing Jonny Utah and Bodhi and quoting from the movie, Point Break.

If you want the ultimate, you've got to be willing to pay the ultimate price. - Bodhi, Point Break

Deep stuff.

Sunday, inspired by all the nordic skiing in the waning days of the Olympics, I went out across the street to the Tahoe XC center for a solo spin. Feeling inspired I skated, walked, and tripped my way up a steep black diamond trail to a beautiful 180 degree view of the lake. And even as the sun beat down and the snow started to turn sticky, I knew there was still a winter to be had in the weeks ahead.