LazyL
03-18-2004, 08:54 PM
Well, SnowPanda and I have lived all of five miles apart for, what, over a year, and we finally met in person for the first time at June Mountain this past weekend. So it only took a li'l ol' 350-mile jaunt to finally make her acquaintance -- it was well worth it.
My crew -- Bowl Babe, PG-13, and I -- rolled into tiny June Lake (population 600 or so) at 2 a.m. Saturday. Though there are very few domiciles in town, there was still some confusion on our part over where our cabin was located, and in our befuddlement, we tried to let ourselves into a local's residence. Oops. Happily, the only shots fired were those of an alcoholic nature, launched down our road-weary throats once we were safely ensconced in our cabin.
Needless to say, dawn dawned waaay too bright and surly for this girlie. But being the keeper of the key to the car, I chaffeured (chaffeused?) the other two go-getters to the mountain, then returned to the cabin to watch cartoons and catnap until my circadian rhythms were bumpin' to the beat.
After enough of that, I dragged my carcass to the mountain. SnowPanda, having arrived under separate cover with her ManPanda, had agreed to meet me at the "chalet" at June for lunch. I decided to take a few runs before the scheduled meet-and-greet. Upon disembarking from my first lift ride, who did my wondering eyes see but SP herself. Greetings were exchanged, I spent many minutes futzing with my boots, and the games were on!
SnowPanda led the charge down my all-time favorite pantywaist run, Silverado. Yeah, it's green, but it's over two miles long, with scenic views all the way to Mono Lake, so if you don't like it, Bite me! And SP was my good-luck charm -- for the first time this, or even last, season, I felt the flow happenin', and enjoyed the run immensely. SP likes to go straight and fast...I mean, fast...down runs. How she got up that much speed on that run, I have no idea (she'd been doin' the diamonds earlier), but in any event, I ate her frozen dust, and took notes.
Some of the best things about June are the eccentrics who make the mountain their home. At one point, SnowPanda, Bowl Babe, and I took a meeting in the ladies' room. While there, a demonstrative, intoxicated gal wandered in, fondled my hair, stuck her finger in SnowPanda's tub of moisturizer (hmm, sounds lewd), and groped Bowl Babe's breasticle using the excuse of BB having a stray hair clinging to her blouse. My goodness! When the ditzy dipsomaniac apologized, saying she'd had "one too many vodkas," I reassured her that there was no such thing as one too many, and was rewarded with a boozy smooch.
But I digress.
Since SP and her hubby had already explored most of the mountain by then, we took a few more runs together, called it a day, and parted ways.
That evening, June Mountain entertained a teeming horde of dozens with a lovely fireworks display. Liquid pleasure flowed, dogs barked, fireworks sparked, and so on and so forth.
There, I finally got to meet up with a bunch of folks from the Mammoth message board, including SnowNymph and her SnowDude, both very simpatico people. The Snows were celebrating their one-year anniversary -- they had been wed a year before on the slopes at Mammoth, in a blizzard. How cool is that?
The next day, sleep-deprived and wine-regretting, I did all of one run, then lounged about in the tropical heat, tsk-tsking at all the fetching snowboarder boys sliding around shirtless. Youth these days! They have no shame whatsoever. And Zeus bless 'em for it.
Some action shots to follow, if PG-13 is out there. Till then, here's a picture of June Mountain gone to hell in a handbasket. One person in line?!! There goes the neighborhood.
My crew -- Bowl Babe, PG-13, and I -- rolled into tiny June Lake (population 600 or so) at 2 a.m. Saturday. Though there are very few domiciles in town, there was still some confusion on our part over where our cabin was located, and in our befuddlement, we tried to let ourselves into a local's residence. Oops. Happily, the only shots fired were those of an alcoholic nature, launched down our road-weary throats once we were safely ensconced in our cabin.
Needless to say, dawn dawned waaay too bright and surly for this girlie. But being the keeper of the key to the car, I chaffeured (chaffeused?) the other two go-getters to the mountain, then returned to the cabin to watch cartoons and catnap until my circadian rhythms were bumpin' to the beat.
After enough of that, I dragged my carcass to the mountain. SnowPanda, having arrived under separate cover with her ManPanda, had agreed to meet me at the "chalet" at June for lunch. I decided to take a few runs before the scheduled meet-and-greet. Upon disembarking from my first lift ride, who did my wondering eyes see but SP herself. Greetings were exchanged, I spent many minutes futzing with my boots, and the games were on!
SnowPanda led the charge down my all-time favorite pantywaist run, Silverado. Yeah, it's green, but it's over two miles long, with scenic views all the way to Mono Lake, so if you don't like it, Bite me! And SP was my good-luck charm -- for the first time this, or even last, season, I felt the flow happenin', and enjoyed the run immensely. SP likes to go straight and fast...I mean, fast...down runs. How she got up that much speed on that run, I have no idea (she'd been doin' the diamonds earlier), but in any event, I ate her frozen dust, and took notes.
Some of the best things about June are the eccentrics who make the mountain their home. At one point, SnowPanda, Bowl Babe, and I took a meeting in the ladies' room. While there, a demonstrative, intoxicated gal wandered in, fondled my hair, stuck her finger in SnowPanda's tub of moisturizer (hmm, sounds lewd), and groped Bowl Babe's breasticle using the excuse of BB having a stray hair clinging to her blouse. My goodness! When the ditzy dipsomaniac apologized, saying she'd had "one too many vodkas," I reassured her that there was no such thing as one too many, and was rewarded with a boozy smooch.
But I digress.
Since SP and her hubby had already explored most of the mountain by then, we took a few more runs together, called it a day, and parted ways.
That evening, June Mountain entertained a teeming horde of dozens with a lovely fireworks display. Liquid pleasure flowed, dogs barked, fireworks sparked, and so on and so forth.
There, I finally got to meet up with a bunch of folks from the Mammoth message board, including SnowNymph and her SnowDude, both very simpatico people. The Snows were celebrating their one-year anniversary -- they had been wed a year before on the slopes at Mammoth, in a blizzard. How cool is that?
The next day, sleep-deprived and wine-regretting, I did all of one run, then lounged about in the tropical heat, tsk-tsking at all the fetching snowboarder boys sliding around shirtless. Youth these days! They have no shame whatsoever. And Zeus bless 'em for it.
Some action shots to follow, if PG-13 is out there. Till then, here's a picture of June Mountain gone to hell in a handbasket. One person in line?!! There goes the neighborhood.