Indeed. Nearly 40cm of snow on Monday left enough lines on Tuesday night to keep this reporter working the tree scene well into the evening. It was West Coast oatmeal at its finest, killer on the quads, but every time I said I'd had enough my little brain, like the gold fish swimming around its bowl, said 'one more time.' When the fog lifted I left the trees and spent as much time as I could handle screaming down the groomed, hucking myself off of every lip and wall I could find, landing soft, without sound on every occasion. However, the best was yet to come. Wednesday morning reported 15 cm of fresh but that was deceptive: it felt like way more. And for a change, the snow was dry, easy to move around, flying overhead, spraying huge tails of cold smoke. It felt like some royal visit from the interior's old man winter. I spent all my time hiking into Moons and cutting back over to Slash and rarely did my skis cross any other tracks that morning. "Finally," came a shout from below the chair laced with a thick French accent. "For the first time this winter, real snow! Yeehooo!" With more snow and cold temps in the forecast, Cypress should stay sick for a while.