I shifted in my seat, legroom made cramp by the ski boots I donned 10 minutes earlier.
A wave of goose-bumps synchronously lapped over me as I listened to a man, a simple man, over two thousand miles away address the throngs eagerly sipping up every word, satiated by the ambrosia of hope that rushed forward like a fountain from his mouth.
I can honestly say I have never had a politician inure such a reaction in me - and I have sat in press row back in college during a trip by Clinton in the 90s (Yes I'm dating myself).
But a man cannot change a country of millions. That is up for the republic to decide; whether to continue to live in ignorance and excess or to subscribe to a little charity and humility. We'll find out.
As soon as the words, "God bless the United States of America" finished ushering from the President's lips, I was turning of the radio and getting on my skis.
I mean somebody had to go and enjoy the natural splendor of this great country. Why not me?
See this guy? Cute, ain't he? Looks rather innocuous and was a rather good companion when he flew in and started hopping towards me, emitting little cheeps.
The Mountain Jay, or also known as The Gray Jay or The Hiker Jay, due to their seemingly lack of fear of man. They are known to land and perch in people's hands. I've seen the photos.
Well, I'm guessing in those pictures, the birds aren't January hungry. He was an aggressive little guy, dancing to within a few inches of my boots, then scooting off and then swooping in close, hovering a mere foot from my face before landing.
And then the solitary jay became two, and then six. Soon I was vigilant as I ate my lunch. But with three directions on which to spy, I let my guard down. That's when I heard a strange scratching sound near my ear.
The initial jay tried landing on my ski helmet and was now hovering in front of my turning face. I shooed him away and hurriedly ate the final bites of my apple, before hucking the core 100 feet.
That bought me time to shove a PB&J sandwich in my gullet. But I was noticed and the second wave of harassment commenced. I tore up a couple of corners and tossed them to gain a few seconds of solace in which to finish.
Looking down valley during a rare moment of tranquility
Since soaking in the sun and the views was out of the question, I skinned back up the long slope I just skied down. About a third of the way up, towards the point where I would have to put the skis on the pack and boot up, I turned my head and noticed a parade of the same jays fluttering from tree to tree on the periphery.
I was being followed. And the thing is whenever I would look over there, I swear to God, they would act inconspicuous. Seriously, like, "Oh nothing to see here. We're just foraging on these branches."
Anyways, while the goods weren't that great, it still was a great day. Calm and warm weather, so much I was skiing in a shirt and my Moonstone rainpants (good call on my part to leave the heavier snowpants at home)
Looking out from a 5 1/2-foot deep snow pit. Nice consolidation on the slopes. The snow is setting up perfectly..... as long as you ignore the 6 inches of facets that all of these tons of snow sits on. I don't want to be around when these gigantic hard slabs decide to go.
I did three laps, though each subsequent skin/boot up was a little less as high. By the time I was doing the third lap, I was looking for the rope tow. And I knew I had about four miles to ski out on an icy, hardpack trail.
The goods. Over 1,000 feet of skiing.
About halfway up while taking a breather
Looking across the valley to Mt Machebeuf. That's a fun ski. I'll have to do it again this year.
The day previous I spent the afternoon bouldering at 3 Sisters. It was a great day as evident by the picture of my climbing without a shirt.... in JANUARY!
Found some new stuff and gave it a go. Worked this project until finally if felt like my left calf was going to separate from the bone doing my 12th heel hook.
While eating a snack, I heard a man constantly calling out in the distance. I discerned after a few listens that he was searching for his dog. Well, after shouldering the bouldering pad, I heard a jingling behind me. I turned around to see a black and white shepherd come bounding towards me.
She stopped about 20 feet away abruptly when she realized I wasn't her owner. Looking at me confused she let out a low growl which tapered off into a whine. She was scared. She was happy to see a person but it wasn't the right person.
I knew what I had to do - and why do I always choose to do the right thing? I'm going to get a reputation if this keeps up. So I beckoned the dog towards me and started breaking out cross-country towards where I last heard the guy calling out from.
I urged the dog on with reassuring cheerful calls and she would bound after me happy, and then distrustfully remembering I'm a stranger. But she came.
Finally the guy called out again in closer proximity. I responded telling him to keep yelling out. Soon invigorated calls began coming one after another and I looked back at the dog. She knew where her owner was now. Gleefully she bolted away towards the voice.
Thirty seconds later, I heard a "Thank you" reverberate from the pine trees.
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