by Christina Ausley, Seattle P-I
 
This time last year, I was aimlessly driving up the winding winter roads which weave to Crystal Mountain Resort. I had moved to Washington just a year before, diving into some Evo ski sales, committing myself to learn the game of winter mountain sports while purchasing an Ikon pass and buying a pair of purple Salomon skis but still proudly touting my childhood long johns.

Nevertheless, I trekked up to Crystal Mountain Resort with an empty wallet and my new gear. I followed the roads lined with tall, snowy pines, questioning the fortitude of my tiny Honda Accord when an ice patch appeared in the distance. I arrived at the mountain for the very first time, alone and entirely uncertain of what came next.

I returned to the mountain this past weekend with significantly more experience. My wallet was still empty and my muscles were sore, but yet I had the same sense of uncertainty when stepping out of my car in the parking lot. As if an entirely new set of rules has shifted into place.

And indeed, it had.