It was the season where everyone forgot it was supposed to be spring. The snowpack stacked up through March and just refused to leave. By the time most people had pulled out their bikes, the Cornice was still skiing like January.
I was driving up out of LA every weekend that year in a Toyota truck that didn’t believe in heaters. Five hours up the 395, windows down past Lone Pine because the cab smelled like old wax. Stop in Bishop for an Erick Schat’s sandwich. Top off in Mammoth Lakes. Sleep in the parking lot at Main Lodge. Repeat.
What made spring ’94 special wasn’t the snow — it was the light. By late April the days were long enough that you could ski until 4, eat a burger on the deck at McCoy Station, and still drive down to a 7pm hot spring sit. Spring skiing in California is one of the few things that has not gotten worse since.
What we wore
Stretch pants, a lot of them. One-piece suits if you were brave. Oakley Razor Blades. A shell over a Patagonia Snap-T. Hard boots that felt soft after eight hours but were trying to kill you on the drive home. No helmet, which I do not recommend in hindsight, but that’s how it was.
What we skied
Chair 23 every single morning. Climb Cornice. Take the lower bowls when the wind shut 23 down. Drop into Avalanche Chutes if you knew somebody who knew somebody. The bumps on Stump Alley by 2pm were the size of Volkswagens because the corn cycle was perfect every afternoon.
The pace
Slower than you’d think. Spring skiing is not about laps. It’s about waiting for the sun to do the work. You ski a couple of warmups on the groomers, sit on a rock for half an hour, ski the south-facing stuff once it softens, then chase the shade. By 3pm everyone’s down at Main Lodge in flip-flops drinking a beer. That’s the whole loop.
Where we slept
The Mammoth Mountain RV Park if we had money, the parking lot at Main if we didn’t. Sometimes a friend’s couch in Old Mammoth. The Sherwin Plaza had a Vons and a Carl’s Jr. and that was the entire economy on a Sunday night.
Why I’m writing this in 2026
Because if you’re under 25, you have probably never skied Mammoth in May with the lifts spinning every day. The seasons have gotten weirder. The big years still happen — ’17, ’23 — but they feel like events, not normal. Spring ’94 was just a regular big year. There were others.
If you’ve got a 4-day window and the snow report says the bowls are still open, get up there. You don’t need fancy gear. A spring lift ticket and a tank of gas and you’re already doing it right.