As the sun set over the mountains of Maine, it bathed them with beautiful hues of pink, purple, and gold. A fitting tribute for a lioness now at peace. Debbie Stellar, forever in our hearts and forever with us. One love TJ, Derek, Tony, and Dana.

You were and always will be our Commodore of the Caribbean, in our sails and directing our course to safe passage.

Love and life,
Chris

Day 7 - Five years and many beers later, the truth is revealed:

We arrived in Sunday River, Maine and drove around attempting to find a particular bar. Five years ago Cody won a New Year's Eve beer pong tournament and we wanted to return to the scene of the victory. We were unsuccessful in our search and went to call it an early night. No more than twenty minutes passed and lights and a knock on the door by resort security had us on the way again. The guard was kind enough to point us to a bum friendly lot five minutes down the road. There we found peace and solitude until 10am the next morning.

Cody and I made it on the mountain around 10:30 with the goal of hitting all 8 peaks that encompass the Sunday River resort. Sunday River is massive, sporting some top tier bump and glade skiing. Towards the skier's right of the resort we found some of the best tree skiing in Wizard's Gulch. The massive size and efficient lift operations would make Sunday River heavenly after a powder dump. Nikki joined us for the second half of the day, most of which we spent searching for the on mountain bar in which Cody won the pong tournament referenced above. We skied every single base operation, only to find out that we had been at a different resort on New Year's. For over five years the stories and memories contained the belief that all had transpired at Sunday River. In our real life "Dude, Where's That Bar?", we still are on the quest to find where we partied on that drunken New Year's five years ago.

Sunday River brought the skiing portion of our adventure to an end. Bruises, strains, swelling, and sore muscles aplenty become the inevitable result of multi-day East Coast skiing. Tree branches, stumps, roots, rocks, bumps, and ice make the East some of the most technical, difficult, and thrilling skiing to be found. I wouldn't have traded these seven days of skiing for any other tour. It may not have the champagne powder of Colorado, the massive backcountry of the Tetons or Cascades, or endless vertical of the Alps, but New England provides skiers with something else, the very soul of ski culture. Every town you visit you find a real appreciation for mountain living. Great music, great beer, great food, and great people proliferate the ski towns of New England. There is no dress code, camo and Carhartt draped skiers rip right along with bearded guys in Patagonia on telemark skis. There is no room or time for pretension. Ski it all, talk with people on the way up the lift, enjoy a beer with your fellow rippers after a day on the hill, and you will undoubtedly find out why I love New England ski culture.

Cody requested I post a little more about super cop

Additional thoughts on the New Hampshire incident:
I believe Cody and I are both most distraught over the false advertising perpetrated by the shit state of New Hampshire. The license plates clearly advocate for “Live Free or Die,” a blatant lie as demonstrated by the events of this evening. My deodorant, Old Spice Matterhorn, claims to smell like wind, ice, and freedom. Goddamn if it doesn’t! I’m like a walking Constitution when I have that stuff on. Ezra Brooks bourbon is for adventurous souls and rugged individuals, which I can attest to from the very first chug. New Hampshire Police don’t live free. Cody believes his offspring will be off the utmost douche tier, and I hope they are raped by yeti (or abominable snow men, doesn’t make a difference to me).

Day 6 - Live Free or...

Hey New Hampshire, fuck you! You are full of shit. Your moto is talk and nothing more. I will get to this a little later.

First things first, we awoke, said our good byes and headed off to breakfast. We dined at the bar-restaurant that we had frequented the night before. The food was the best of the trip. A farm to table sort of concept, everything was fresh and full of flavor. It was the perfect way to both start the day and depart from a great town. Again, endless thanks to Josh and Jen for their hospitality and sharing in this experience with us.

An hour and a half drive and we arrived at Cannon Ski Area in New Hampshire. It was a fairly warm day, but winds and changing cloud cover made for variable conditions. We made some solid bump runs, but without more snow Cannon fails to provide the sort of terrain we skied all week. We decided to nix skiing the lift access Mitersil (spelling?) slackcountry area due to poor cover, so I can’t say we experienced all that Cannon supposedly provides.

We wound the day down with a couple three dollar Killian’s Red pints in the Cannonball Bar. After which, Cody and I decided to play around the snow banks in the lot area. Less than five minutes in to doing so Joe Top Cop decides he should take control of the situation. Mr. No-IQ felt it might be a huge liability to Cannon if we got hurt and the smart ass asked us “Did you guys ask Cannon if you should be doing this?” No, fuck face, we didn’t ask Cannon if we could play around in a snow bank. Thus, live free or die my ass. If that concept were to be taken seriously this nanny fuck would be strung up. Nonetheless I had to refrain from starting something, due to the fact that our van houses two loaded .40 cal pistols. New Hampshire, being the free state that it is, does not reciprocate PA concealed carry license. Again, fuck you New Hampshire, fuck you. I’m quite happy to be leaving this state as we are now headed to Maine. Tomorrow we ski Sunday River, where Cody won a beer pong tournament several New Year’s ago.

Enjoy,

Chris

Day 5 – Jay Peak, good people, good beer, and good skiing:

We spent both Tuesday and Wednesday night in Montgomery Center, a small town ten minutes outside of Jay Peak ski area. Our friends Josh and Jen were kind enough to give us shelter and great company on both occasions. Our first night was spent consuming copious amounts of Vermont’s finest craft brews, various ales and porters. After an undisturbed sleep we made it out to the mountain by approximately 10am. Unfortunately Jen was tied up with work, but Josh was able to give us the local’s tour of Jay.

The skiing at Jay Peak is intense. We had the pleasure of hitting steep groomers, glades, tight turning tree runs, and under the lift bumps. Josh took us toward the boundary line, which provided some of the nicest snow we have had thus far. Towards the end of the day we made our way out of bounds and back to the highway where Josh had parked his car earlier in the day. The snow pack was a bit variable for us, but I could easily see how Jay provides some of the best skiing on the East Coast when blessed with a powder day. We had an incredibly fun day with warm air and sunshine aplenty.

Later that evening we grilled Hartman’s cheese hot dogs and turkey burgers. This event was sponsored by Yuengling Premium and Trout River Brewing Company...oh, and Ezra Brooks bourbon, a drink for “rugged individuals and adventurous souls.” Josh stated that he initially purchased this particular bourbon after reading the label, a good choice on all accounts. Later in the evening we made our way down to another one of the local watering holes. Two dollar craft beers ($3 wines for Jen and Nikki!) , live bluegrass, and a generally cool local vibe made for another great night. Jen and Josh departed about an hour before us, as they had responsibilities to attend to the next day. After a few more $2 drafts we made our way back to their house. Sleep came upon all of us in quick fashion.

On a side note, today’s picture is of our new friend Maple drinking Yueng Prem out of a Jay glass…I was kind enough to share with her. Maple is Josh and Jen’s extremely sweet, big boned, yellow lab. She loves food, beer, her many toys, and road trips.

Enjoy,
Chris

Day 4 – If it quacks like a duck, walks like a duck, and…

Fucks like a duck, then it must be a duck. So says my good friend Cody, so I thought I would share this insight with you.

Anyway, we arrived in Stowe, hit up Pie in the Sky for some delicious BBQ pizza, and found a hotel lot to park in for the night. We took the opportunity of the early night to drink more Yuengling Premium and watch Aspen Extreme, certainly one of the finest movies ever the grace the silver screen. For some time afterward, Cody and I debated the possibility of him transcribing this entry because I was fairly intoxicated and hate the feeling of a keyboard in such a state. The discussion went nowhere. After that, it was time for a good night’s camper van sleep.

We made it through another night of uninterrupted sleep in the van and headed for breakfast in the town of Stowe. McCarthy’s serves a delicious, full plated breakfast for a good price. Nikki and I both sampled the local fare by opting for “The Woodchuck,” a two egg omelet with Cabot cheddar cheese, maple sausage, and granny smith apples. It hit the spot before hitting the slopes.

Stowe is a well laid out, expansive, and basically awe-inspiring mountain. Mt. Mansfield, what I believe is Vermont’s highest peak, makes up one of Stowe’s mountains. The proper conditions did not present themselves, but on occasion the areas above the gondola provide for some incredible above tree line into woods skiing. The sheer cliffs and visible frozen waterfalls present spectacular views from the lifts. Unfortunately for us, the current warming and freezing cycle ended in a bit of a freeze for the whole of our skiing experience. The temperatures, despite a day of sunshine, remained low and kept the snow in a state of crusted up corn and intermittent icy sheets. The skiing was fun, but sketchy.

We ended the day with a lot cookout. Cody grilled up several cuts of venison, Nikki fixed the snack plate, and of course we broke out the Premium. As soon as the sun went down a biting cold set in, so we packed up and headed towards town for a little bit of ski shop hopping. After this it was off to Jay Peak to meet up with our friend Josh. Tonight we will definitely get out for some bar hopping with he and his wife Jen. Until next time…

Enjoy,
Chris

Day 3 - Mad River Glen's Old School Feeling is Incredibly Endearing and...

I now find Smugglers’ to be much less so. We took a hairpin mountain road up to the Mad River ski area and arrived as dark was setting in. We then decided to drive around, explore the surrounding landscape, and find a place to dine. After a good 45 minutes of this we settled on Hyde Away bar and lodge. A good meal and several beers later we headed back to the Mad River Glen lot to settle in for the night.

We made our inaugural run at sleeping in the van, MRG being the perfect place to park over night. We never worried about being asked to move, there was no presence of “No Overnight Camping” signs, and the few people in the lot when we awoke seemed to appreciate our lifestyle. After a breakfast of fruit, PB&J, and frozen orange juice, Nikki departed for a day of touring Burlington while Cody and I hopped on the single chair lift by 9am opening.

MRG is a throwback to North American skiing origins. There are three lifts that service massive amounts of terrain, none of which are highspeed and one is the single chair lift that I alluded to above. There is glade skiing everywhere, rock and waterfall drops galore, bumps on everything from green to black runs, and no snowmaking or grooming to be found anywhere. MRG is the opposite of Smugglers’, a true to the core skier’s mountain. Some 2000 shareholders own the mountain, and all upgrades or expansions demand voter approval. Certainly one of the most unique places I’ve had the honor of skiing. Cody and I were in agreement regarding how great the mountain was, especially for the $39 midweek lift ticket and pleasure of skiing with at most 100 other people on a sunny Monday.

We finished a hard day of ripping around 3pm and headed straight to the lodge bar. I sampled three local beers, one being Lawson’s Dunkleweissen. A high ABV dunkle-weisbeir mix concocted by a Mad River local, I was well on my way to a good night after that. Nikki met us part way through the festivities, but abstained from much of the drinking as she was well aware we were incapable of safe driving. We had an interesting conversation with a 60-some year old local shareholder named Charles, a man who referred to his offspring as “little bastards” because they distracted him from the massive storm that hit over a week ago. He most definitely provided for some interesting and insightful conversation, soon after which we departed for Stowe.