done got ridden
After drinking approximately 17 cocktails into the wee hours of Saturday night we decided to start Sunday bright and early. The trip was going to entail skiing Blackmore, a feat that requires the trip through THE ENDLESS FOREST. We weren't just going to ski a mountain common to many stories told at Poorhouse by people still wearing trancievers, but we were going to ski the face we have been looking at from town for 6 years. That's right, the north face of Blackmore, from the top, oh yeah, I RULE.
Upon being awoken that fine Sunday morning Tyler immediately announced that he was going to actually die if he didn't sleep for another 30 min. After the coffee was started a phone call to John reveiled a language formally known as english. After decoding some rumblings in the 20-30hz range I determined that he was in prime shape for tackling the never ending forest.
p.s. bar + Tijuana Tigers = "Well, I really can't remember anything after the 4th redbull vodka"
So after wandering around the house gathering ski gear, waking up the nearly dead man, getting my truck back home, wandering around Safeway picking out appetizing delectables, and driving up Hyalite, we found ourselves wandering around the parking lot. Luckily it was sunny, kind of warm, and I had remembered everything. Otherwise the "sandy vagina abort" would have been issued. With that we started up the trail.
Then it was the typical skin up the trail, whine about something, skin some more, discuss how you've had 4 quarts of fluid and still haven't pissed, skin, whine about your cold hands, skin, have the "I was really wasted lastnight" revelation", keep slogging, whine about your sandy vagina, skin, bring up "if I won the lottery I would take my helicopter up here",slog, drink another quart of non-alcoholic goodness, skin, realize you are starting to sober up, skin, whine, catch your breath from skinning and whining at the same time, skin, etc...
So then we finally made it to the top of the fuckin mountain; sunny, scenic, the whole 9 yards, pretty fuckin awesome. Hiked a hundred yards down to the start of the line, looked at it for a while, climbed into it, dug a snow pit, and talked about it. This entailed the usual "if it slides you're going to die, but it doesn't look that bad" conversation. Finally, after cutting some cornices and watching them tumble down, I went for it. I sucked up my balls for safe keeping, jumped up and down on the snow, made a cautious turn, then let er hang out.
So after that, probably the best skiing around to the bottom, then it was stick the skins back on and slog to the top. Unfortunately we found a skin trail the lived up to true Bozeman standards, really narrow and the distance between switchbacks shorter than my wang, whatever, up to the ridge. Spectacular sunset on the top, then ski back through the never ending forest and to the car. And that's it, all done.
