Early Season Skiing

Flying from Philadelphia to Big Sky is much easier than driving for 32 hours, obviously, so Julie and I arose before dawn on the morning after our noteworthy Thanksgiving with family to catch an Uber to the airport.

On the flight to Dallas, I watched Confess, Fletch, a light mystery-comedy starring Mad Men star Jon Hamm in the role Chevy Chase played perfectly in the hilarious movie Fletch in the 1980s.

With opening scenes in Italy and a protagonist I liked in a previous incarnation, I knew this was a good bet to keep me entertained on the way to change planes in Dallas.  I was not disappointed, as Hamm turned in an excellent performance in his reinterpretation of the character I. M. Fletcher, albeit one without the hilarious disguises pulled off by the often slapstick Chevy Chase.

In this sequel, Fletch has retired from being an old-school investigative reporter, which he calls "an occupation that has been cheapened by the digital age, like President."

After changing planes, I quickly settled on the movie Vengeance, written and starring B.J. Novak from The Office as a millennial reporter for a popular, money-making podcast.

As it turned out, I somehow followed stars from old TV shows into what I realized were comedy mysteries with reporter protagonists.  I enjoyed both movies, though neither is without flaws.  As more of an old-school writer myself, I liked Confess, Fletch better, but I also recommend Vengeance, which takes some unexpected turns.

Despite all of the easy criticisms of air travel, including bad airline food and the hassles of going through security (much better with TSA Pre-Check), the fact is that instead of repeating occasionally interesting but sometimes mind-numbing long drives, we can catch up on movies we missed or didn't know existed.

We had heard reports of a handful of big snowfall in October and November in Big Sky, so I had already declared my intention to ski on Monday, making use of the Senior weekday passes we purchased at the end of last season.  Julie is always more cautious, and she thought 10 degrees would be too cold once applying a wind-chill factor shushing down an icy mountainside.

She gave me a ride to catch the free Skyline bus to the resort and picked me up at that same bus stop by the Hungry Moose, so it made an easy first day.  It didn't occur to me that being so early in the year that most skiers from around the country would not have booked trips.  When I arrived, I found exclusively locals on the slopes, and not too many of them.

While it was a bit cold, the sunshine made it feel much warmer, especially without much of a breeze.

I could ski down, get on a lift without a line, and then repeat.  I was worn out by noon, when I took a break for a delicious lunch of Peachy Peace Tea and Fritos Honey Barbecue Twists, both of which were meant to be split but served as my lunch, would qualify as vegan and gluten-free.

The next day, it was overcast and even colder, with temperatures down around zero, so with the prospects of it warming the next day to make it acceptable for Julie, I decided to just go on a walk along the Crail Ranch Trail with her rather than ski on my own again.  My legs were sore anyway, breaking in muscles that hadn't been used in that way for awhile.

That turned out to be a freezing walk, one that caused us to say we would turn around early a few times but nonetheless took us about as long as normal on that trail.

When we awoke the next morning, expecting to find reports of nicely groomed trails like Julie loves, the weather report said there had been no snow in the last 24 hours, but six inches of powder in our driveway with more coming down rapidly made a liar of that report.

Fresh powder is not Julie's jam, so again she drove me to and from the Skyline bus stop for what proved to be fantastic powder on packed powder.  What made this different was the powder on top was deep enough to cover my boots, and deeper in some spots, and all as light as whipped cream.

I felt like a powder hound in one of those adds, with cold smoke flying in my wake as I cut serpentine turns down the mountain with no one else close by much of the time.

The next day, the runs were groomed, so Julie and I drove up to enjoy a great ski day together, though admittedly I had become accustomed to leaning back to float a bit on powder rather than pushing forward to carve (or what I consider carving for me).

With new snow overnight, Julie thought twice but I convinced her to come.  She had a few doubts, but overall had a great time, as did I.

By the way, after three years of Julie insisting we needed to buy a new car that would be more reliable than our aging Ford Escape, which I continue to insist is very reliable, we had ordered a Subaru Outback, which was finally delivered in November.  The great salesman who took our car order actually drove over to pick us up at the airport and take us to our new car.

He then spent a half hour explaining various features.

After going to Wal-Mart to pick up groceries, we decided to stop into the County Courthouse to see if our license plates were available, saving us a return trip to Bozeman to pick them up.  As always seems to happen in Montana, we were met by a smiling, efficient worker who soon had us on our way with new plates.

I hope Montana customer service never becomes like the California DMV, and the spirit of Big Sky country remains free.