The Snow Falls on Bozeman
This is a blog of the escapades of the 511 crew, and as such I found it interesting that there is little note of the skiing we all love. We are part ski-bums here in Bozeman aren't we? So, to remind those ranchhands who are far away, and to highlight the joys we all love so much, here is a tribute to the ski day.
Entering the kitchen this morning I was confronted by Tom who was informing me of the fresh pow up at the Big Sky. Much to my disappointment, I discovered that the same was not true for Bridger Bowl (a rarity). Tom quickly departed to go drop some serious cliffs and shred some raging gnar in all the new snow at Big Sky. I was still highly motivated and amped for a good day of skiing and I left the ranch shortly after Tom at around 8:30 this morning (again, had it been a powder day I would have left earlier). The approach to Bridger was classic, with snow falling, wind howling, and cars in a hurry. By the time we had our skis on Bridger had already received a few inches, and it never let up. Lift rides were sometimes great, feeling the excitement of the soft powder, and sometimes miserable, feeling the wind and stinging snow bite at your face. Each run was more enjoyable then the one before it as the snow just kept pilling up. The turns become effortless and your thoughts become suspended as you fly through the weightless white snow. Isn't this what winter in Montana is all about; the suspension of reality with every falling snowflake, the mind-clearing calm of the powder turn, the adrenaline rush when you free-fall through the air (probably doing a daffy, or a spread eagle)? That's what my day, our days, are like in the mountains around Bozeman. We ski for the freedom, for the friends, for the fun, and on these days when it is truly winter, truly bliss, that's what it's all about.