Scott and I got skunked on Mill Point: plenty of snow but not enough to cover the horrendous amount of downfall there. I was on Mill two years ago but either there was much more snow then or much less downfall. Either way, we got to 6,300 feet and could see the summit and nearly the entire way was littered with downed trees. In some 20 years of backcountry skiing it was the first time I can ever recall where I kept my skins on for the descent.
So I got home at an embarrasingly early hour. Cooper was asleep, so on Laura's prodding I went out for a second time, this time to a spot very close to town. I found great snow, no downfall, cold temperatures, and clear skies. There aren't nearly enough good clear cold days around here, and on days like that I hate to see that sun going down.
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