I remember skiing at Mt. Pilchuck in the late ‘60’s. We would go up in school buses and ski from 9 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. The bus drivers were indeed amazing, maneuvering around the turns to the ski area on a narrow, barely plowed road. Fortunately, everyone was going up at the same time and everyone was going down at the same time. The lodge was always warm and everyone seemed happy. I remember the water in the lodge was hot, hot, hot. It had to be to thaw my freezing hands and there was the ever-present Bavarian music playing – yodel, yodel, yodel.
My first chair lift ride was to the midsection of the upper chair. In his Jan. 3 article “Snows of Pilchuck’s past,” Herald Writer Andrew Wineke quotes Timothy Berndt as saying, “If someone could ski Mount Pilchuck, they could ski anywhere.” He is right.
The picture in Sunday’s paper, although beautiful, just doesn’t portray the incredible vertical drop from the top of the upper chair to the bottom. There was one particularly memorable run. It was 3 p.m. and the buses would be leaving at 3:30. So, even though it was snowing heavily, I headed out for one more run. Just as I passed midway it began to snow even harder and thunder at the same time. I was relieved to see the ski patrol waiting at the top to sweep the mountain before closing down. I fell about halfway down, losing my skis, goggles, hat, gloves, poles and warm-up pants. It was a spectacular fall. Fortunately the ski patrol picked me up and all my pieces and I made it down to the bus just a little late. It had snowed six inches in that 30 minutes.
I loved skiing at Mt. Pilchuck.
Snohomish
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