Had a truly idyllic morning playing in the snow; I’m impressed with the quality and beauty of Flag’s ski trails. I’ll have to get back up in the summer and ride there also, and hopefully ski a couple more times. In three and a half hours I didn’t ski all the trails, more than can be said for some decent places in New York or Minnesota.

Topping the hill on Peak-a-view (you can see the Snobowl for about 50 yards, clever) I was eying the hill to the right: 20 degrees, widely spaced trees, perfect for my uniquely inept and unpracticed brand of tele skiing. I wisely gave it a miss, as a quarter mile later I rounded a downhill turn and buried a skinny ski tip, grooming nonwithstanding. Crashing with skis and poles is really far sillier and awkward than anything else, by far.

In the end the deadline of being home by 1400 saved me from myself, my quad and tricep aches were only mildly deadened by a long hot shower.

Finding a place to settle eventually with enough snow for me, and not too cold for Meredith, will not be so simple.