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."
