Cathy and I had stopped at Costco and Smiths to get groceries for the next leg of the trip. The Skijourn Sisters were converging on Palisades, the old Squaw Valley, for a week of skiing.

I had warned everyone about the coming storm and wouldn’t have been surprised is someone canceled. We bought groceries so that we wouldn’t have to buy much at Tahoe. I had been warned that prices were high in the Lake Tahoe resort area and that grocery shelves could be depleted because of the storm!

These eight women–four from Minnesota and one each from Wisconsin, New Jersey, Boston, Santa Fe—were ski instructors or patrollers. We are skiers! No one cancelled and in fact three changed their flights to an earlier time to make sure they got in.

Gina had changed her flight to the day before so she had a room ready for Cathy and me when we rolled in at near midnight. Ann arrived with Jodie and Linda squeezed in a Jeep Wrangler 4×4 with tires that could climb mountains. The last two, Susan and Peggy had a hired car to deliver them to the front door.  By the time the last ones arrived the snow was beginning to fall, but the temps were in the 30s so nothing was sticking, and the roads were wet but clear.

All the chicks were in the nest!! Let the party begin!

But of course there was this snow issue. I was glad we all got in safe and sound. We intentionally got in early to beat the snowstorm. It was Thursday and Gina went skiing alone. She was soaked by the time she came back in.

And what a snowstorm! The weather guys predicted 6-8 feet of snow. It began during the night. A steady, big-flake snowfall. Being California, the temperatures were mild—low 30s. By morning ten inches had fallen. By evening it was 20”. Palisades closed. I am sure between workers having trouble getting to the resort and avalanche danger they were obliged to close. And while they didn’t say it right away, the storm was just starting, so it was highly likely that the resort would be closed for the weekend.

Our first day of being snowed in was lively. We were all in good spirits. Gina, a creative and smart woman, decided to choreograph a dance to Beyonce’s Texas Hold ‘em. For eight skiers not dancers, the video was great fun to make and Gina did a smashing job bringing it all together. If you’d like to see the Instagram, click the link below: https://www.instagram.com/reel/C4BiCZtPKhP/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

As it turned out, Palisades was closed three days straight—Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Our vehicles were buried under eight feet of snow. The Olympic Village and ski lift base were within walking distance without ski gear, so every day we walked to the few bars and restaurants that were open. After the first night it dawned on me that walking in a blizzard can be life-threatening. It’s easy to get disoriented in the blinding show. We would walk over in daylight, suited up in our ski jackets, pants and our goggles. The goggles kept the blowing snow ice flakes out of our eyes. Except for one or two exceptions, we walked in groups. We definitely spent more money on food and drink at the Dubliner pub and the 22 Bistro than we would have had the mountain been open. We weren’t the only ones looking for trouble. At the 22 Bistro we ran into some guys from St. Paul, Minnesota, who were part of the Winter Carnival Vulcan Krewe from 20 years ago. They made the journey to Palisades every year. Small World.

 Every day we went out and dug out our cars, just to stay ahead of the game. The Olympic Valley Inn plowed every day, and their heavy equipment snowblower driver helped us out as much as he could. He got some good tips from our group.

The first night we used the communal kitchen at the resort, but then soon the rest of the residents found the kitchen, too. Subsequent nights we commandeered a lounge area, folding tables and chairs, and cooked in our rooms, shuttled everything to the lounge and had our own private dining room. With portable speakers, plenty of wine and appetizers, our dinners were deluxe.

We almost got out of the storm of the century unscathed until Sunday, when I was trying to write while most of the women went to the village. I got a call from Cathy with news I wasn’t expecting.

My truck, minding its own business in the resort parking lot, covered in over a foot of snow but still visible, got hit by none other than the resort snowblower driver.

I had thought that it might be easy to be hit, given the vehicles were covered in snow. I even went so far as to tie a bright blue ribbon to my antenna to mark my truck. To no avail.

I went inside and the young man who hit me was remorseful. He said he was avoiding a car that was speeding through the lot and his blower lurched forward and clipped my front left fender, headlight and hood. The general manager was out until the next day. I just sat.

The next day the mountain reopened. The Skijourn Sisters were ready to ski! I was ready, too, but my mind wasn’t fully engaged. I had this damn truck to deal with. I figured the resort would take care of it. After all, their equipment, their employee on their property hit my vehicle. The had told me an adjuster would be coming out, but it never happened.

We had the opportunity to ski with some locals—Julie Matise, Carol Levine and Dee Byrne all skied with us. Julie was the PSIA clinician who lead the group that brought us together; Carol is a PSIA legend; Dee Byrne was a senior manager at Vail and is now the COO and President of Palisades. The Skijourn Sisters were skiing in rarified air.

Unfortunately for me (poor me) I missed out skiing with them most of the trip as I was dealing with the truck. I was on a tight deadline with rooms booked at South Lake Tahoe and a hard stop in a week to be back at Santa Fe for a commitment I couldn’t miss. I conveyed this information to the general manager of the resort, so he knew full well the critical dates looming in front of me. He said he didn’t want insurance to get involved, and that was fine with me—as long as I came out of it whole and on time.