93546, Mammoth Lakes

Peacha, striking a heroic pose in the Sierras

Dear ——–,

Last Saturday, I decided to take both Peacha and Tami’s toy poodle Winston out for a walk in the snow. We headed out to Hot Creek, near the airport. As I started walking in my snowshoes, I noticed Peacha trying to consolidate second place, as if to say, “If my human is #1, then I’m #2. Winston, you’re #3.” Every time Winston tried to get close to me, she blocked him. I’ve never seen our submissive little dog act the enforcer! I continued on for a maybe a mile or two, admiring the more picturesque — if exposed — views, compared to the tree-lined Sherwin Meadows. Although I was hoping we’d make it to the aquamarine hot springs, we had to turn back short because we were running out of time (I’d scheduled a prenatal massage at the Healing Arts Centre. Tough life, I know!) It was a good thing we did. Winston dragged a good 200 feet behind me at some points. But he responded well to encouragement and his little face was still plastered with a tired smile. Both dogs fell asleep immediately in the car on the drive back.

93546, Mammoth Lakes

Peacha, looking back on our snowshoe trail

Dear ——–,

This is my first trip to Mammoth where I haven’t been able to ski. I dropped Bryan and Tami off at Main Lodge in the morning so they could slide and came back to Edelweiss Lodge, our base of operations, to get a map for snowshoe trails. My parents gave me snowshoes for Christmas 10 years ago, but I haven’t had a real opportunity to use them until now. Keith, one of the managers, pointed out a couple of dog-friendly areas and I took Peacha in the car with me to Sherwin Meadows. It was a landscape of rolling hills, so, as I went up and down, there were a couple of times where I nearly tripped over the snowshoes because they flop around. Once I got the hang of it, I had a good time meandering between the lodgepole pines. Peacha sweetly fell into step behind me, probably because it was easier to walk where the snowshoes had tamped down the mushy snow. But I’d also like to think she knew I was the expedition leader.

V0N 1B4, Whistler

Thank god it stopped raining at Blackcomb!

Dear ——–,

The rain finally stopped on Saturday morning. We tried to get to the lifts at opening time (8:30) and almost made it (9:00). (The buses weren’t exactly frequent.) Much of the surface was asphalt-like ice, but this was an amazing change from the slurpee of Thursday. We spent most of the day at Blackcomb, where Bryan and I shared T-bar rides up to the top. We had to hike a few hundred feet to get to the trail that took us to the glacier, but Bryan was sweet enough to carry my skis. (I’m spoiled!) It was my first time skiing on a glacier and I took a super scenic route that probably would’ve burned out snowboarders’ legs. I wanted to get to the untouched snow, which looked a little better than it felt since it had the consistency of marzipan. Still, it was nice to get away from the crowds and hear nothing but my own carving. We got in line for the Peak-to-Peak gondola back to Whistler and waited less than 10 minutes for a glass-bottomed one. It was pretty amazing zipping above the valley, looking down at a frozen river wind through tall Douglas firs hundreds of feet below.

93546, Mammoth Lakes

Our burrito savior on the mountain

Dear ——–,

At the beginning of the season, Mammoth announced that “foodcats” would be roaming the mountain. We had seen neither hide nor hair of them until last Sunday. As we got off the Roller Coaster lift, we saw one parked near the entrance of the Wall Street Trail. We’d found the mythical beast! And not a moment too soon, since we were getting cranky with hunger. Shiao-Wen kept skiing but Bryan and I ordered a breakfast burrito (egg, beans, cheese) and a beef burrito and settled into plastic lounge chairs in the snow. The burritos were kind of small and nothing special, but they hit the spot. (Most burritos are too big for me anyway!) Plus, we didn’t have to deal with the crazy cafeteria lines at the lodges. The tricky thing is it’s not clear if the cat is always parked there, or if they move around. Mammoth’s facebook and twitter don’t tell you in a reliable way where the food cats are going to be. We could tell others were just as surprised as we were to see the foodcats since there were at least five other people snapping pictures with their cameraphones.

93529, June Lake

Bright and sunny June Mountain

Dear ——–,

This last trip showed a totally different side of Mammoth. The sun was blazing in a cloudless sky; the snow was groomed and hard-packed; the top was open. Shiao-Wen was a good sport and agreed to go with us to the lift lines at opening time, 8:30 a.m. Given the 40-degree temperature predictions, we were worried the snow would turn to slush in the afternoon. We were also worried about the crowds. Starting around 10 a.m., the mountain turned into a leftover sandwich swarming with ants. Bryan had to stop on two successive runs to pick up skis that had snapped off fallen skiers. By 11 a.m., we went back to the car and drove to June Mountain, about 30 minutes north. That turned out to be a brilliant idea because at June, we hardly had to wait in lift lines and we shared each trail only with maybe 3 or 4 others. The trails are shorter, but there’s a good variety of blues and blacks. It did give us pause when we passed a snowboarder who said, “Oh man, it’s so hard to snowboard drunk,” but at least we had enough space to avoid him and his friend.

93546, Mammoth Lakes

Snow fell nearly the entire time we were in Mammoth

Dear ——–,

We made it to Mammoth without chains, in maybe the only window of clear weather the entire weekend around New Year’s. All the restaurants were running $70+ New Year’s Eve specials, so we decided to hit Vons and make a pasta dinner in our Edelweiss Lodge room with Tad and Tammy. The slopes were surprisingly empty the next morning. It could’ve been hangovers … or the snow, which fell in a thick blanket all of Saturday. We avoided snow vertigo by sticking close to the trees and reveled in the soft powdered sugar. It was about 10 degrees cooler than the last time we came, when the wet snow made for what the locals call Sierra Cement. We tried to make it to “early ups” on Sunday, when the mountain opens at 7:30 a.m. for season pass holders. We weren’t able to get onto the lift until 8:31 a.m., but that was still the earliest we’d ever gotten on a lift. The skiing was so good on Sunday — when a slightly lighter snow fell — that we couldn’t give up until around 2. Was it worth it? It took over 11 hours to get home. Well, we’ve already started planning our next trip. This time, hopefully, we’ll be at Mammoth when the top is actually open.

93546, Mammoth Lakes

Snow coating the firs at Mammoth

Dear ——–,

We’re on our first trip to Mammoth of the season and Mother Nature has been showering us with snow. We had to put the chains on about a mile or two after crossing the Mono County line. When we got to the mountain, the snow was coming down steadily, though it was still a little wet since it was barely under 30 degrees. There were a few times where the heaviness of the snow buried my skis and I almost lost one of them going a different way from the other. But I never got going very fast. The thickness of the snow reminded me how much you have to shift your center of gravity when you’re skiing in powder rather than when your’e skiing hardened, groomed runs. The snow kept coming down and we made fresh tracks every time we got off the lift. We decided to quit before we got bone tired, mostly because we’ve got another few days of skiing. The snow is expected to keep falling. Some of the locals raised the specter of road closures on Sunday. I hope we can still drive home!

90266, Manhattan Beach

Volleyball in front of the Strand

Dear ——–,

This is why people move to Southern California: clear skies and temperatures in the high 70s in November. Jennifer and I drove out to Manhattan Beach this morning to play beach volleyball. It was so warm, I peeled off my hoodie even before I got to the sand courts where the rest of our group had set up. (The group included a lot of Caltech guys, many of whom where French. I heard a lot of “merde” and “putain” on the court today.) You never run as fast as you think you should be able to on sand; you also sink if you try to push off when you jump. The wind plays havoc with the ball. On the beach, you just have to accept that the ball is not going to go where you think it will, but it will be a good workout. It was almost like summer out there again, with that feeling of wanting to play outside until you’re utterly exhausted. The only reminder was when I got home, when the darkness crept up on me faster than I expected.

90291, Venice Beach

Canals just inland in Venice Beach

Dear ——–,

Jen wanted to see Venice on Monday, so I took it as an opportunity to go looking for the canals I knew were there, but had never seen. We spotted them out of the side of the car and pulled over quickly to park. Jen likened the scene to the Cam in Cambridge, where colleges and buildings come almost right up to the grassy bank of the river. The California version was very charming: a snowy white egret stalking his supper, wooden pedestrian bridges, canoes and rafts moored a few steps away form each house.We headed over to the beach afterward, doing the requisite stop to see overdeveloped guys pumping iron at the Muscle Beach gym. It turned out to be a sporty trip, since we also stopped to watch some paddle tennis, a game I hadn’t seen before, which features solid racquets on a small hard court. Then, as the sun dropped lower, we stood over an elaborate skate park and saw skateboarders roll up and down the smooth sides as if they were riding waves just beyond the sand.

91204, Glendale

 

Skating at Moonlight Rollerway

 

Dear ——–,

Whitney invited me out to Moonlight Rollerway on Monday night and I said yes. I hadn’t put on a pair of roller skates since my 6th grade graduation. I eyed a sign outside warning, “No short shorts,” as I pushed cash through a bank-teller-like window. Inside, the crowd wasn’t exactly what I expected. There were a couple of heavy-set older guys who glided around the rink with flair. One Evan Lysacek-type floated by in an arabesque. Getting out on the hardwood was a little intimidating. Every time I poked my head out, it was like freeway traffic, with skaters streaking by. I finally shuffled out and met up with Whitney and Amy in the middle of the rink, where you practice dance moves. They were smooth — rocking back and forth and doing “crazy legs.” I scooted my legs back and forth and did an anemic robot. I took a tumble once — when I got a overconfident about my ability to stop. But it was actually a really fun night. By the end of it, I was taking long strides around the rink to “Take My Breath Away.” Was it the 1980s all over again?