Meadow Mountain is starting to become a habit. I did a spring skiing trip up here in April and got thoroughly schooled in the steep and deep. I was looking forward to more on better gear with (nominally) better skills and more friends. The friends were easy to arrange with a mixed group of climbing and work friends; nine of us in all.
But the snow turned out to be a bit more problematic. Given the scant snow at the trailhead, I opted to join the snowshoeing group instead of the skiers and this was wise. Even in the big bowl two miles in, snow cover was thin and chancy. However the weather was better than expected with hazy clouds, so we pushed on for the summit, any summit. Above treeline, the winds were fierce (35-45 mph according to my wind gauge), so we opted for the closest summit (Meadow Mountain), tottered over the loose talus, and hunkered down in the hastily-excavated summit shelter for a quick bit of lunch. The skiers finally got to enjoy the fruits of their considerable labors on the way down and I briefly regretted not lugging one of the several sets of planks I’d brought up here. Briefly.