Last year my friend Katie and I went to Mammoth Mountain and had a fabulous time. So we decided to return again this year… twice.
This past Friday morning the two of us and approximately 52 other thirsty adults boarded a bus. As soon as the driver shut the door, the bottles started popping open. We’d packed a full bloody mary bar to start the day. Other people sipped on fireball, SoCo, beer or champagne- I even caught one guy with a cocktail shaker. Everyone was fast friends and the hours basically flew by.
We pulled into the lodge late in the evening. After finding our rooms and dropping our bags, the group shuffled down to the Yodler for some bavarian cuisine. Everyone was giddy about the weather. After months of drought, the sky had started dumping snow. They’d gotten over 2 ft. by the time we arrived.
Stuffed to the gills with carbs and cheddar we retreated to bed.
The next morning we sprung out of bed at dawn. We dressed quickly, inhaled some oatmeal, and were at the lefts within moments of opening. Now, I have to admit: the conditions were a bit of a shock to me. I’m sort of a corduroy queen. I love relaxing cruises down freshly groomed slopes. But that’s not where the lift dropped me off Saturday morning. It dropped me off in about 2 feet of powder. I panicked a little, but quickly gathered my courage dropped in. I hit the [fluffy] ground almost instantly. Then I got up, and tried to make a turn. Then another. I face planted again. Here I am after one particularly spectacular yard sale (that’s my ski sticking straight out of the snow behind me).
This went on the entire way down the run. Fortunately, it got better. The rest of the mountain was at least slightly more favorable and we got 10 good runs in before lunch.
By 12:30 we were famished so we stopped in for some lunch. Bread bowls of chili and a salad to share really hit the spot.
We sat and enjoyed hot cocktails before getting back on the mountain. Once we’d thoroughly exhausted our legs for the day, we retired to our room for happy hour. And by “happy hour” I mean “drinking wine and eating cheese in bed”.
Yeah, that happened.
And I loved it.
With our batteries fully recharged, we met up with the rest of the group to get some drinks in the village. Sadly, our favorite bar from last year shut its doors recently, but we still found some stiff drinks and cozy nooks to warm our bones. We crawled into bed exhausted from what was essentially the best day ever.
The next morning started more leisurely as we packed our things and nibbled on oatmeal and fruit. When everything was collected, we hit the mountain for a few GLORIOUS runs down the mountain.
After a tasty burrito, I headed back to the hotel to slip into leggings and Uggs (side note: I am not an Ugg enthusiast, but nothing feels better on your feet after hours in the torture-device that is ski boots). I sat around the lodge checking email and playing trivia until our bus loaded back up and headed home. It was a rowdy crew and things were lively the whole way home. And check out this scenery we had as a backdrop for the shenanigans.
It was midnight by the time I walked in my front door and I was pooped. It felt amazing to crawl into my own bed. That said, if I could go back up there tomorrow, I would!