Our crack of noon start is nothing to be proud of. Skiing in light of the setting sun, however, is joy. We dance with our shadows. Crisp wind sneaks over the ridge and keeps us awake. I can smell a storm on the horizon, or am I dreaming? The huff of my breath and gentle scrape of my climbing skins are the voice under. Great engelman spruce stand as grandfathers along the track. We find soft snow; gentle turns arc our return to the valley.
Now, sitting here in our little house in the woods, I’m just thinking how much I appreciate all of you. Have a merry bells happy holiday!