I sidestepped up the snowbank on the side of the road and took off down the skin track. Instead of my normal solo journey, today I was surrounded by friends — all excited to leave the world behind for a few hours and climb up through the burn to lap a north-facing slope and, hopefully, edge some untracked lines.
I slid off the uphill track and waited for the guys to join. As usual, they were in various states of readiness. Paul was next to me, ready to go. Patrick, Rod, and Ryan were still at the car, talking smack and attaching skins.
As we waited, Paul and I chatted, talking about our route, talking about our kids, just basically shooting the shit in an easygoing way. Eventually, there was positive momentum from the cars and the other three took their turns sidestepping over the snowbank and up the track to join us. Without a word, Paul led off and the others slid by me, taking their natural place in line. Once everybody passed, I slid back on the track and started up behind them.
For whatever reason, this is my preferred place in a group ski tour. I like to bring up the rear, keeping tabs on my buddies and chatting with whoever has ended up in front of me. In this case, it was Ryan. We covered all the usual topics — work, kids, wives, vacation plans — and then morphed into contented silence, just putting one foot in front of the other, gradually walking uphill.
Eventually, we topped the first ridge and stopped in awe at the snow-filled bowl spread out before us.
I yelled to Paul, still in the lead, "Wow! I had no idea this was back here. This looks awesome!"
He yelled back, "Let's hustle so we can ski it more than once."
And so we did. We slid down the track to the creek — skins still attached, bodies focused on keeping our heels firmly planted — and found a place to cross. On the other side, the group gathered for an impromptu meeting.
A skin track was laid out before us, and we decided to stick with it. After a few sips of water, a quick bite of a Snickers, and some good-natured banter, we took off, same order as before, now a well-established pattern.
We walked through the woods and started up to the next ridge. As we climbed higher, the incline steepened and we found ourselves executing some ugly kick-turns to even out the slope and slow our racing hearts. Occasionally, a few of us would meet at a corner, catching up or remarking on just how beautiful our view was.
Eventually, the entire valley was laid out below us. Visibility was amazing — and our views of West Mountain, Council Mountain, Brundage Mountain and mountains to the far west was unmatched. It was good for the soul.
As we neared the top, all of us, without saying it, felt lighter. Whatever stress or anxiety the week had served up had melted away. All that was left was friendship, beauty, and untracked powder.
At the top, we transitioned — stowing our skins in our packs, changing our bindings and boots to ski mode, and grabbing a quick snack. When everyone was finished, we took off en masse, floating through the trees, each carving up our own line of powder, letting our pure joy escape as hoots and hollers.
Like all ski tours, it was magical. Unmatched beauty, shared with good friends and the world's greatest feeling – floating effortlessly in pristine, white powder through a silent wood.
We gathered at the bottom, smiles plastered on our faces and put our skins on for one more lap — because sometimes, one ride is just not enough.
25 Miles From Home Trailer
You can watch Bryan Peters' newest film here.
afterburner - filmed in McCall, ID
