I've enjoyed beating up on Killington over the years, especially my anti-capitalist anti-consumerism post-college-angst years (if aren't a socialist in your 20s you have no heart, if you're still a socialist in your 30s you have no brain). But in recent memory, I've always had good early and late season days there. Killington came at this season with a completely different attitude. There has been a void in New England skiing for a long time and it is nice to have that void finally refilled.

As Sugarloaf and Sugarbush both close, Killington is not just still open but talking about June. Maybe they will get there, maybe they won't. But the talk is hardly hypothetical marketing bluster, it is absolutely doable.

Unlike in past years when "The Beast" announced an earlier than planned April closing despite ample snow just before a massive storm that they would not reopen for, Killington is honestly playing for keeps this season. And it is about time. All hail Killington, undisputed King of Spring with the earliest opening, latest closing, and longest season. Thank you.

"This is going to hurt."

Foreboding feelings of pain were strong going into this weekend. I am in the worst shape of my life. An honest self assessment suggested I could get the job done but only at the cost of several days of pain. But even in the worst shape of my life, I'm still more capable than I give myself credit for and I'll need to remember that as I start rebuilding my body and, perhaps more importantly, the rest of my life.

Today is my eighth day skiing Smuggs and the mountain still gives me the warm and fuzzies. A month ago, I reported that The Honeymoon Still Isn't Over. Nay, I think it has barely just begun. And I would be hard pressed to say when it might end.

The phrase of the afternoon was "one more run." I took a half dozen "one more runs" -- I couldn't tear myself away from the mountain. The skiing was just too good. I continually pushed through physical soreness to keep going until mental fatigue started to set in near the end of the day.

Days like today reinvigorate me with that overwhelming feeling of living to the fullest. My body unleashed testosterone and aggressiveness that combined and fueled a kind of visceral mania. My eyes opened wide, I stumbled out of the shadowed state of depression, and felt a lost but not forgotten passion. Where has it been? I have it now but I know it can be fleeting. So I need to use it while I have it, internalize it, and make it mine again.

The bright light of spring split the clouds in the early afternoon. The metaphor was not lost on me as I slowly skied the traverse, looking around, breathing deep, feeling human again. Or at least feeling like myself again. Well, except for the poor physical conditioning.

I soon found myself in an elevator shaft, in the trees on upper Madonna Mountain. A pair of trees towered over partially buried deadfall and an ice patch. I could make the turn but I had a hunch that there was either glare ice or rock under the snow where I planned to turn. There wasn't much room for speed control below the trees, so it was to be a straight line into an eight foot wide 35 degree elevator shaft. I looked to my left and other tracks had opted for discretion leaving the line untracked with two inches of fresh covering who knows what beneath. A few years ago, I wouldn't have even been thinking about the calculation, I'd already be at the bottom. I wasn't going to back off it, I was out to recapture something that I lost. And what a place to do it.

I was heading to Mad River Glen for the Annual Shareholders Meeting regardless of snow conditions so I might as well bring the skis and have at it. Snow conditions alone would not have justified the drive. While I was very happy to see Mad River make it into April with ample coverage, the lack of good spring skiing conditions have been disappointing. Mad River Glen is a great mountain for spring skiing since most trails are left natural and bumpy. But today was a poor day to sample even the groomers, let alone the bumps, at Mad River.

I got a late start but not late enough. I skied Fox to Bunny and then Antelope to Bunny before deciding that it was time for a lunch. After grabbing a bite to eat, I met up with MadPat and went up for a rerun of the groomers from each chair. I may have skied more top to bottom groomers today than I've ever skied at Mad River Glen in total. Not much had changed. But from the Single, MadPat and I both spied one of the Quackys lit up by sunshine. While the bumps were a touch abnormal, the snow condition was prime spring corn and the only bit of it on the mountain.

I am no fan of Stowe Mountain Resort but I do love Mount Mansfield. The resort has some great trails among its wide and homogenized so called classics; it truly is the best and most all encompassing ski area in the east. The trails can be epic when the conditions are right (and the ample amount of powder hounds aren't out in force) and there is an enormous amount of tree skiing. But Stowe lacks the character and temperament of the far superior ski area across the notch. But take a hike above treeline and Mansfield offers some of the best skiing in the east for the least amount of effort.

So I try to get atop Mansfield's ridge line at least once a season. Few other ski areas can offer a true alpine experience for such minimal effort. I am selective of my Mansfield days preferring a warm and sunny day in the spring time before everything starts to melt. This year I timed it pretty well though the snow was far from ideal due to delayed warming.

This week's daily snowfall in Northern Vermont continued last night with Bolton Valley taking top honors in New England with 7-10" in the past twenty four hours. While a few inches overnight would have been par for the course this week, almost a foot of snow was a complete surprise. A surprise I learned about when I groggily reviewed my phone this morning and found out that I had set my alarm to the wrong day of the week, oversleeping an hour. This error would later prove to be both painful and serendipitous.

My usual fuel sipping driving style was left at home and I made the 2.5 hour drive in just over two hours thanks to empty back roads. You can't get there from here my ass. While scrambling to take care of business in Bolton's woefully inadequately sized base lodge, I managed slam my right middle finger HARD into an unnoticed stairway railing. I could move and bend it and squeezing all points caused no pain. Pressing on my fingernail yielded a white spot. I didn't think it was broken. Game on!

I contemplated the odd's of running into fellow blogger J.Spin of J&E Productions. The odds seemed ludicrous. But in accidentally over sleeping an hour, the timeline was arranged perfectly and I skied into line behind J.Spin and family just as they were about to load the Timberline Quad. Introductions were made at the top of the chair and we dropped into the rolling and open trees of Adam's Solitude much to the delight of his two younger rippers.