GMD DISPATCH: Still Waiting
Every morning when I wake up, the first thing I do is look out my window. Since moving in to the Goldminer’s Daughter on the 15th, the scene hasn’t changed. Beyond the beers chilling on the sill, a few cars sit parked on dry pavement, and the Wildcat Chair is motionless above a patchy layer of snow. Our lifestyle, both our financial and recreational well-being is entirely dependent on an uncontrollable. When there is no snow, there are no skiers, and when there are no skiers, there is no work. It’s difficult to know what to do with yourself when the lifts remain closed and it’s sunny and 55 for the sixth straight day. It can all be pretty depressing if you don’t keep busy enough.
We all spend this time differently. Some hike or skin up Collins for the redundant icy ski down. Some go “cougar” hunting in Park City. “Double-A” sleeps for 18 hours. Axel waxes his moustache. Tim walks to the valley. Jason thinks about the 1440 he has to pull before the end of the season to avoid losing a bet that would require him to get a tattoo of a unicorn. There’s reading and cribbage and hearts. But most just drink. The bar of choice for Alta employees seems to rotate from the GMD Saloon, the Peruvian P-Dog, or the A-Lodge, but it’s always the same scene: about 40 dudes drinking 3.2 while they ogle at the two cute girls in Little Cottonwood Canyon.
If there is any good that comes from this time, it is creative, though completely trivial thought. We’ve come up with a Man Decathlon, which Ben—the Stanford-bound 18-year-old—took the lead in by successfully removing a piece of fur from a mountain goat. We’ve also written two songs dubbed “Watershed Violation” and “Interlodge Violation”. I guess this is what a group of 20-something-year-old guys does to keep from going crazy while they await the beginning of the reason they are all here: Utah snow.
Though it hasn’t really snowed since I’ve been here, hope idles and exists. It is still early in the season, and snow is in the forecast. Besides, no matter how dire a season looks, I believe skiers should remain blindly optimistic till June. So maybe tomorrow I will wake up and there will be snow and skiers outside. If not, I’m sure there is another song we can write.