The second half of my recent trip to Oregon was spent on the slopes of
Mt. Bachelor. As we all know the Pacific Northwest touts copious amounts of rainfall annually. The ski resorts are surprisingly not exempt from this characteristic. Saturday, after renting our equipment, a woman tried to give me a sleeveless plastic bag to wear for protection from the rain. I readily dismissed her with a wave of my hand and the furrowed brow I am known for. I didn't come all this way to ski with a garbage bag draped about my torso.
Four hours later, in the upper lodge for lunch I peeled through five layers of waterlogged clothing. I now regretted my earlier decision. Jetting down a mountain in 30-degree weather when you could boil pasta in the amount of water you are toting in your clothes is not my idea of healthy recreation. But when the lift ticket is expired and you're back in front of the fireplace, the fact still stands that a wet day of skiing beats a dry day of nothing on this Colorado-boy's checklist.
