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Welp, It finally happened. It appears that before I could finish the Epic Saga of the 5 day Ski Trip, I went on another one. But, is that truly a bad thing? about 90% of those posts are complete filler, and I doubt there is eve a speck of enjoyment that comes out of them. As for this event, I plan to do what I should have done with the last one, just make it all one post, well actually two posts, because next week is spring break and I still need a blog post.

Moving on to some “actual content” (Oh please), This trip started off differently from any others before it, because it backpacked off of another trip, the MAD Sophomore Retreat. The retreat took place from Wednesday to Friday, while the ski trip occurred from Friday to Sunday. I dont plan to discuss the retreat in detail any time soon, mainly because I was not able to take any photos, because do to some garbage reasoning, we were not allowed to have our phones during the retreat, which really sucks because the retreat took place in Canyons National Park, where there was a lot of snow

But regardless, on Friday morning, my father, who had driven 6 hours just to get to canyons park, loaded me and my friend Walker into the car, and we began the long haul towards the Burbank Bop Hope Airport. I lack photos of this drive, which I hope can be excused by you dear reader (I mean its really not your choice), as I was just recently reunited with the magic of technology, and I had quite a large amount of stuff to catch up on. The road trip was uneventful, and after a few hours of Redditing, Youtubing, Netflixing, and Zeldaing, we arrived at Bob Hope Airport. After some more lollygagging and phone watching, we got in our plane and took off towards the exact same destination as last time, Salt Lake City. Much like the last time, I once again tried to take a nice photo of the horizon through the plane window, but because it seems my phone doesn’t understand how to correctly focus, you will have to enjoy the photo below instead.

Curse you phone camera!

We landed in Salt lake around 6ish and decided to get some dinner in Salt Lake City before heading into the desolate woods that are solitude and Briton. We decided to stop for my dad and I’s favorite type of food, shabu shabu, which is basically just dipping thin slices of meat into boiling water and then into sauces. We tend to get shabu shabu when on trips because the only shabu place in Santa Barbara is a disgrace to shabu-kind (Seriously, dont eat there, it will give you food poisoning). The restaurant we went to was really good, but it seems my hands couldn’t keep still when doing the photo, so now nobody gets to see anything.

Soon thereafter, we arrived back at Solitude and walked into another small apartment, but this time I least I would get a real bed.

After getting set up, we all settled down and ended the first night with some quality netflix (sadly deborah’s netflix was not here, RIP).

The next morning I awoke well rested, something that is often a rarity in the alpines. Soon afterwards, we all suited out and treaded the very short distance into the village where we got ourselves a quick breakfast before hitting the slopes.The place we stopped at was a very small casual place in the middle of the village at Solitude, that, while being advertised as a pizza and ice cream shop, was more well known for its simple cheap breakfasts. We knew what to expect from such a place and got their breakfast burritos, which while nothing to talk about, served their mundane purpose of giving us enough energy to propel ourselves down a hill at ludicrous speeds without dying of malnutrition on the way.

After breakfast, My dad and Walker went to the information desk to get rentals and lift tickets. Walker simply needed boots as he had his own board, while my father was the exact opposite, having ski boots, but lacking any skis to go with them. Well, actually, my father did have skies, which he payed an extra 30 dollars to bring with him. But, being a Queener, he didn’t actually bother to check any of the conditions for this weekend before we had already arrived. And thus begins, and ends, the story of how my father bought $500 dollar powder skies for one of the slushiest weekends in history.

As one is to expect, the first thing we noticed while we headed up the Apex lift, was the weather. In our very limited layers of just undershirt/underwear and Ski jackets/pants, we soon found ourselves overheating, having to go much of the day with our jackets completely unzipped, which completely sucked when you would fall, extremely common with the snow conditions. However whenever you would go on a lift you would become cold almost immediately as the wind literally whipped you while you sit stationary in a lift.

However regardless of the snow or weather conditions, it was almost worth it, simply for the undisturbed views of a sunny day.

Moving on from the histrionics, the day itself wasn’t really that bad. The first few runs, while icy, were extremely fun and fast, giving an experience I wasn’t really used to in solitude. This was because in order to make up for the conditions, almost every nice run was groomed, something that did not occur at all last time we were there, likely in order to keep the powder fresh. My favorite run of the day was undoubtedly the first time we went down the newly groomed Honeycomb. We completely flew down the entire mountain, at speeds I had never reached before, all while feeling completely stable.

A hilarious moment of the day was after we had done out 7th or 8th run of the day when I asked walker what time it was as I exclaimed that we should probably stop for a rest in a bit. After learning that we had literally only been out for around an hour and I half, I came to the realization that without people like Joe and my sister who you constantly need to wait for, you can just fly through things that would have taken three times as long.

We stopped at the roundhouse for lunch, as it is honestly the only decent place to get food on the mountain without the need to chug a bottle of pepto bismol afterwards.

From there on out, the quality of fun deteriorated. Eventually the snow became so slushy that you would become borderline uncontrollable while going down it. I remember at one moment, even though I literally had not turned at all down the entire slope, I came to a sudden stop on an incline, unable to move, even though my board was facing directly down the hill.

Because those conditions were bumming us all out, we soon decided to call it a day and headed back to the room where I ended the day with additional netflix and some AP world history notes, a Sharp Queener Classic™.

I looked forward to tomorrow, when we would check out a new and even bigger mountain in utah, Snowbird.

And thus concludes part one of two of another pointless series that I likely will never get around to finishing, because to be honest I’ve said that I will come back to so many things at this rate.

Let me know if anyone actually reads these, because currently I’m starting to believe that I’m simply just talking to a cardboard cutout of Danny Devito, by sending me some incoherent nonsense in the comments below, a simple aslkjh;fg;hlasdtgglhkadgka will do just fine.

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