The last few days have been the kinds of days that make me feel like I need a pinch. Somebody to reassure me that this is not just a dream. But deep down, I don't really care if its a dream or not, I just want it to keep going. Wednesday morning was a whirlwind re-introduction to the winter life: shocker of a memory jog as to what it means to be skinning, and more importantly, to be skiing powder. A solo mission to reacquaint myself with the frosted peaks now bordering town, with two runs of hooting, hollering knee to thigh deep snow - giggling to myself like a lunatic. Yesterday was a warm mid day jaunt - one run of blissful bouncy turns through brilliantly soft shaded north facing snow. Sam s and I, covered head to toe in snow from faceshots, were reduced to giggling with sheer joy like a pair of crazies. Today, myself and (I feel like I can safely speak for them) my companions, were on the borderline of criminal insanity.

It started last night, with a phone call (reenacted to the best of my recollection).

"hey sam, were going skiin' tomorrow, wanna come?"

"oh jeez, sounds like a blast, but I've got 8 oclock math, I should probably stick around."

"are you sure you can't learn math while we're skiing? we can teach you?"

"pretty sure, have a good time though. :("

....

Five minutes later, I was looking at myself in the mirror while brushing my teeth, and I found myself thinking, "hey, hang on a sec. If skiing is your favorite thing to do, why would you bail on a perfectly good opportunity to make some turns to sit through an hour 99.99% utterly useless crap?" So all it took was a groveling message proclaiming my rearrangement of priorities, and a 0400 wake up call it was.

Skins on in the dark, breath billowing white under cold headlamps, and under clear skies we were left to place one foot in front of the other marveling at the stars and the snow covered peaks. Our ascent to the ridge line was followed by the exponential growth of a band of color over the easterly horizon - really one of the best sunrises I've witnessed in a long time - and it was timed to a t, as we arrived on the top, the pink glow turned orange, and the great ball of fire was lifted above the distant absaroka mountain range.

The descent was a thready drop through steep trees followed by a beautiful 35-40˚ slope that was empty save for one rock (which my ski mercilessly encountered). I guess you can only ski so many days in october before you get a core shot...

But for two of our group, it was the first day on skis in a year, for one, it was the first day of the season, and for two more, the third day in a row of turns. And for these reasons, along with many more, these turns were incredible.

A trip back to the top of the ridge, a well vegetated traverse, and we were standing at the mouth of a good lookin 'cooler' that choked down and out of sight around a great big fin of rock. Definitely a line I would give serious consideration to with a big spring snowpack, but here we were in october, with an incredibly dense 3 ft of creamy delish, so there wasnt much more to do than let the cameras roll and give'r.

As we rounded the choke, a 6 foot tall boulder was blocking the narrowest point in the chute, and the broad apron below. After a bit of hemming and hawing, Ned stomped the small leap of faith and the grand hero turns all the way to the bottom. After following and nearly collapsing at the bottom from sheer unadulterated joy, I regained enough composure to watch the smiles on the rest of everyones faces tearing up the snow on the way down.
 

Now thats something to smile about.