I went skiing at Crystal Mountain during the pandemic. Here's what happened
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.