================Author - Ted "I'm not the anti-Ted" Hullar============ It was billed as "Cuttin' up Carson". Although he may soon be joining the ranks of the traditionally employed, Bob's trip titles always show the marketing genius honed through years of self-employment. Or something like that. Anyways, on with our belated story... Bob, Ted, and Lucy piled into Bob's car and headed out towards Highway 88. Everybody else was going to meet us at the trailhead. The first part of the trip passed very quickly, partly due to good conversation. Bob's speedometer did the rest; although you would think it would be sluggish in its old age, the needle showed remarkable spunk, indicating 0-30 in 1.2 seconds, with an average highway speed of either 98 (extrapolated upwards) or -7. Apparently even Bob was marvelling at his car's remarkable powers, because we somehow missed a turn. As our topographic map coverage stopped somewhat east of the Central Valley, we were forced to ask directions. Fortunately a group of high school girls were available outside the supermarket, and Bob nonchalantly asked them how to get to Jackson, as if getting directions outside supermarkets was part of the standard trip plan. With the assistance of a few high-school boys who gave up riding the mechanical car to join the committee, we eventually sorted out where we were, and our new friends told us where we needed to go. Somewhat to my surprise, their directions got us to Jackson. Lucy decided to sleep outside, which lasted about 30 minutes until it started raining. Awoke the next day to the sound of a dog barking. Now whose mutt is disturbing the peace this early in the morning? Oh hi, Mark. Yes, yes, of course we're glad you brought Mika and Zenta. But is all the barking absolutely necessary? Met Carol at the trailhead. It's spring, and the proof was on the roof of Carol's car in the form of a red kayak. Also Lynn and Pat, two other snonetters. Skinned up and headed for Stevens Peak, just a bit over 10000 feet / 3030 meters. Snow was okay, although clearly not fully consolidated yet. Worked our way across some gullies, then up onto the mass of Stevens. A bit windy on the ridge, but everyone got to the summit. Alright, now for the turning. Some powder near the summit, a nice treat. Lower down, though, just deep slurpee, no gliding, no turning. Fortunately we had Bob's new radios to communicate once the groups got separated. Better living through technology. Then back to Grover Hot Springs State Park. Ted bonded with Lynn, a fellow Saab owner. They're great cars. Honest they are. It was also here that Carol espoused her unique principles of car repair. It went something like this: Carol: I need a new water pump for my car. How much do they cost? Bob: Oh, about 60 bucks. Carol: I think I'll just get a new car... Sunday was another warm, sunny day. Cathy and Paul (from Sacto) showed up, having arrived late the last night. First priority was Carol's birthday cake, kindly provided by Cathy. In her excitement blowing out the match, Cathy also successfully blew out all the candles. Fortunately, Carol had forgotten it was her birthday, and Cathy was able to use the ensuing confusion to relight said candles. No peak bagging today, today we did a tour! Mark and Zenta had to get back to the Bay Area, and Lynn and Pat did something else. The rest of us took advantage of Kirkwood's hospitality and left a few cars down there, to enable a point-to-point trip. Started at the Carson Pass sno-park (no, the other one), then headed up to Winnemucca lake, then Round Top lake. From there, we skied down to the ridge, hoping perhaps to get some good snow on the other side of the ridge. The snow was no better, but at least the wind was a lot worse. We wisely decided to ski down to the back side of Kirkwood. After relaxing on the stationary chairlift, we climbed up the old-fashioned way. Then, after the culture shock of seeing snowboarders, we used them as obstacles and skied down the mushy front side of Kirkwood, back to the cars. Lessons learned in the parking lot: 1) You will not have any privacy if you decide to change your clothes in your Miata parked next to a car full of backcountry skiers, particularly if the top is down; 2) A large red kayak on the roof of your car does not guarantee you can find it in the parking lot. But you did find it, right, Carol? Packed Bob's Subaru to the gills, then off down the big hill. Uneventful drive, at least until we got to Cathy's ancestral home in Oakland. The goal was to retrieve Snowdonia the cat, and take her back to with us. Cathy claims that Snowball is her cat, but you wouldn't know it from the way she bolted past her on the front steps and into the neighbor's yard. The inhabitants of the house seemed to know Cathy, so at least that part of the story is credible. In lieu of Snowypuff, Bob was rewarded with a box of lemons, held captive by a box. And finally, a new tradition for trip writeups: The Mystery Quote. Taken out of context, of course. If you weren't there, you missed it: "YOU'RE ON MY F***ING DIME. GET OFF!!!" Answer sometime in the future... Ted Hullar