“Should we put these sandwiches in our pockets or do you think we’re coming back to the car?”
“Pockets.” He replied without any hesitation. I knew right away Andy’s dad was a ripper. We missed the big storm by a few days but there was still deep lines on the backside of Mt. Bachelor. It was sunny. This wasn’t a day to stop for lunch.
Our three days were filled with generous pow shots, fluffy pillow lines, fly outs over berms, lay-back slashes, roast beef sandwiches on the chair up and chicken salad grabs on way down. After an initial day of exploration, we found traversing around the summit yielded access to rime ice encrusted trees that stood sentinel over a portal to the fifth dimension of shred. We passed through and exited from time, space, and holiday crowds.
Day three was meant to be a half day in order for Andy to get back to his job in Portland. This didn’t seem too bad until we came out of the low elevation clouds and were blinded by a bluebird morning. Fortunately, Andy takes after his dad. He called in to work by our third lap which left enough time to ride until we collapsed and stop at 24 hour Aumsville skatepark on the way home.