Water drips in a steady stream from the eaves above my window as Steamboat's ski season has finally come to a close.  There is still plenty of snow on the mountain but the valley has turned to a sea of mud and the Mighty Yampa River is swollen to the delight of local kayakers.  The tourists have packed up and gone home, taking their green with them.  The mountain is devoid of bamboo and colorful netting, leaving pure white rivers winding through the lonely pines and aspen fields above town.  All that is left are the locals with nothing to do but pick up the pieces and plan for the future.  Winding up my 8th year in this resort town has left me certain that not much has changed since I struck up roots here back in 1990.  The future though is uncertain now that we are under the auspices of the American Skiing Company.  But at least for now, the last weekend of the season has confirmed that all is well with the world and that the sun will again rise tomorrow. 

Saturday breaks clear and sunny, a balmy 45 degrees on the mountain.  I round up my gear and strike out for a day of fun in the sun.  The springtime winds have definitely kicked in and the gondola is closed to avoid possible catastrophe.  I wind my way through the large crowds at the bottom, making use of singles lines to blast my way to mid-mountain via Christie III and Thunderhead. 

The snow is perfect spring slush and I make a few lazy laps around the mountain, savoring the views and taking my favorite lines on each glorious run.  Crowds are at a minimum once up top and I log plenty of vertical, enjoying the convenience of lift service for some of the last runs of the season.  All turns from here on in will have to be earned the hard way, clamoring to the top of some peak or chute, at altitude, across questionable terrain for an even more questionable run.  Don't get me wrong, hiking Backcountry is where it's at…  but that doesn't mean my aging body won't take a free ride if it's available… 

With my thirst for vert quenched by early afternoon, I decide to make my way to the bottom.  I take a final run through the snowboarders half-pipe in Bashor Bowl.  My exits of the pipe are perfect but, as usual, I bust my ass on each uncoordinated free-fall reentry.  One bruising run is enough though, for today the "1st Annual Bikini Slalom" is being held on Headwall at the base of the mountain.  My friends and I have been skeptical about this town embracing such a blatantly chauvinistic event; the sole purpose of which must be for estrogen-starved guys to gawk at scantily clad females.  All moralistic issues aside; I head to the course with my SLR… already loaded with high-speed film to catch the action for my own personal review and critique…