Hello pow pow.

That’s right, sitting atop a mountain is baller.
Or, more accurately, I was still struggling to breathe after falling off the T-bar and hiking a good 50 meters up an icy incline to the peak [those things are hazardous for snowboarders!]. But check out the spectacular view and sweet bowl MW and I are about to bomb . . .

Growing up skiing on the East coast, I was well familiar with icy, windswept faces. Until last weekend, I had never experienced real fresh powder, the kind that makes you feel like you’re floating in spun sugar, knee-deep and absolutely untouched [one of the perks of a ski-in-ski-out condo — hitting the slopes before anyone else can mess ’em up]. Now, laid on in a thick blanket it was wonderful to glide through, but carved into bumpy gullies and humps made for a thigh-burning, joint-jarring ride. Oh, the exhaustion! The only solution: go faster. :)

Awesome photos courtesy of MW. And thanks to MW’s rich uncle for Breckenridge accommodations and thick-sliced bacon!

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