When I came over the pass to Winter Park on Wednesday, the "beach" at Berthoud Pass was in full blast. These guys were enjoying a break from the heavy falling snow. All they needed were the pink flamingos to make it a total scene. The rest of the backcountry skiers and riders were still gliding between the trees. I had come up somewhat late from Fort Collins where Charlotte was finishing the 13? 14? 15? packages of gifts she was sending off to family scattered across the country. We were still feeling the glow of the annual cookie party which, these days, has become less about cookies and more about friendship, neighbors, music, and a wide range of pot luck food and drink.
But at Winter Park twelve inches of powder had fallen. Deep powder, deep silence. And Thursday was one of those perfect ski days: clear sun in the morning on the deep powder, clouds come rolling in the early afternoon, around 1:30 the temperature begins to drop and by 3:30 when I was leaving the parking lot to return to the hostel in Fraser the snow had begun to fall again.
I've been working on the bumps and have noticed some slight improvement, though it could just be the deep powder is being gentle. What remains the same, without any regard to technique, is the beauty of being in these mountains in the midst of winter snows and that sense of exhilaration that comes from a smooth descent of the slopes.
