Just when you think the snow is going to loose the fight against those pesky daffodils, April gives you a powder day. On April the 6th, three of us raged the slopes of Maggies, each blowing our own fresh trail. We rode for nine hours straight and as dusk crept up the slopes, we counted our contours down the mountain, reliving each turn etched into the wall with the satisfaction of knowing that every squiggle was ours. Everyone else seams to think the daffodils have won the fight for spring, but little do they know winter is not nearly over.
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