The drive to White Pass is even more bubble-bursting than the usual Puget Sound exit routes. "Look, a Trump sign!" Horace exclaimed (along with "a train!") Soggy, mossy lots, Confederate flags, muddy, clear-cut hills. Not even a McDonald's.
Then you reach the most family-friendly of all local mountains. No lines. No steeps. Even the ungroomed stuff is doable. Jane would love to regale you with the tale of her first black diamond. She cried a lot though.
Paradise Basin is blessedly open.
And it was warm. At 4,000 feet or so, pure slush.
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