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.