A run on Thunderbolt
Slowly, but consistently the winter delivered snow. It didn’t seem possible: but yet, the winter of 2025 conjured reminders of long ago. Like 1968 some said, or 71.
71, Sam remembered well. He had managed to miss most of that season, the result of a Fall soccer injury, but salvaged that long, cold winter playing hockey on the frozen brook, wearing his Derek Sanderson homemade sweatshirt/jersey. Now, the opportunity to experience a deep, epic winter had arrived again. Sam had started training consistently five years ago, not to Everest or marathon levels, but enough to stay in the game, to be available for what adventures might come. A case of pushing against the clock, as opposed to letting it run out.
Sam hiked the Thunderbolt often enough in the summer to have an idea of the contours of the trail, as well as the location of exposed rocks. Nothing in skiing bothered him more than hitting a rock on the trail.
The morning of February 20th was perfect. 15 degrees above F, clearing skies, and an abundant snow cover offered great promise. The snowbanks on Route 9 were five ft. high, the top layer a consistency of lightly whipped vanilla frosting. As the sun hit the snow in the fields, the dazzling sparkle was almost blinding. Old times, Sam thought, like driving to Cannon so many years ago, anticipating Taft and Hardscrabble.
The hike up the mountain was exerting, but anticipation of the ski run provided a shot of adrenaline to assist the journey. The Thunderbolt shelter just below the summit was open, and a warm fire was lit in the stone fireplace. Sam took advantage of the opportunity to cool off from the hike, and change his under layers to warm fabric. Happy to encounter some like minded enthusiasts in the shelter, Sam prepared to venture into the crisp, mid morning air for a run on the iconic Thunderbolt.
To be continued.
Rick Payer