Report from January 10, 2022

Something extraordinary happened in Walnut Creek, CA, late last night.

A category five atmospheric river came through with lightning, thunder, and roaring wind.

It knocked out the power, it knocked out some generators, and it caused chaos, but there was one singular point of powerful calm.

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The storm carried chaotic, rarified air east in a hurry.

That air slammed into the Sierra Nevada mountains, where it lifted, groaned, broke, and let loose.

It closed Highway 80.

It closed Highway 395.

We barely made the drive from Tahoe City to Palisades Tahoe in white-out conditions.

The storm unloaded copious amounts of dense, terrain-flattening snow.

We skied KT-22 all day.

The skiing was delicious.

The storm raged against the light.

West Face & Dead Tree were fast and flat.

Red Dog Trees were quality, but it was a battle getting there in the blinding, snow-driving wind.

Lap after lap.

Friend after friend.

Good vibe after good vibe.

There was even a dogger.

It was a remarkable day.

It was a day not to be forgotten.

It was undoubtedly my best storm day of the season on KT.

Thanks, Mom.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

– Dylan Thomas