Schweitzer got about nine inches out of the the 24-hour storm, but with plenty of fog to make things interesting. Still, we had a great day and were impressed with the mountain. I'll save the written details for tonight's TR and cut to the high hard ones. My wife had a fun time adjusting to the dense PNW pow at first:
There were lots of "those people" to contend with.
Heading into beautiful, expansive Outback Bowl:
Today is bluebird and the pix should be a lot clearer, so check back in tonight.
With an inversion keeping us above the clouds, we got to see Schweitzer's 2,900 acres in full color and could see why it's such a popular resort in this part of the U.S. It has a wide variety of terrain and more great tree skiing than you can shake a stick at. While a fair number of people had driven up from Sandpoint to get at the leftovers from yesterday's storm, you'd never know it from how deserted the mountain felt.
During the first two hours, marketing director Dave Kulis and marketing coordinator Sean Briggs gave me a tour of the fantastic Outback Bowl and explained some of the resort's back story.
"Little Blue Ridge Run"
"Shoot The Moon"
By late morning, Dave and Sean had to get back to the office, so my wife and I went from one end of the mountain to the other.
Snow Ghosts Along "Great Divide"
Final Run along the South Boundary
The low-lying clouds never fully dissipated, so we didn't get to see Lake Pend Oreille down below, but we're hoping that'll happen tomorrow.
For our third and final day at Schweitzer, we experienced the two sides of the Inland Northwest weather coin. Until 1 pm, we were skiing mostly by braille in a huge fog bank. Then, the sun burned through and it was perfection through final bell.
Heading Into Heather's Run
Here's the Schweitzer money shot of Lake Pend Oreille -- like most things in life, the photos don't do it justice.
Coach Z wrote
It seems that fat skis were invented for the thicker snow they get there.
Heh, you got that right. My Schweitzer hosts yesterday blasted through a south-facing line in the Tower 19 trees on their Rossi S7s, while I flailed about in the mashed potatoes on my 71-waist groomer skis.
Of course, there is something to be said about "it's the carpenter, not the tools."