After a restful night in our perfect little cabin-like condo in Dillon, we awoke to a thick layar of fluffy snow, still silently falling, inviting us to come play. We joyfully piled on layers of ski pants and warm jackets, gathered our boards and skis, and made our way to the base of the lone ski covered pist at Keystone. A sea of young enthusiasts were geared up from head to toe, adorning their labeled swag and hoisting colorful boards and skis. These early season skiers are the enthusiasts that had been eagerly awaiting this moment to dig out their equipment and feel the powder beneath their feet.
We gleefully crammed into the warm gondola with a set of new friends, toasting to our arrival over a couple of early morning brewskis. Once at the top, skis securely in place and position assumed, I glanced over at my trusted companion once more before embarking on my first Rocky Mountain run. The fresh powder smoothly glided beneath my skis. Gradually my motion became more fluid after years of dormant ski legs began to return. Picking up speed I shifted side to side methodically. A rush of joy swept over my entire body as my muscles remembered the movements perfectly and I quickly entered into the zone.
The first run was a dream, but as the day continued the mountain became more and more congested, people making their way down the single open slope at various speeds and patterns, tracking out the soft powder and replacing it with icy patches. Eight thousand people on a single slope proved to be a hazardous scene. We continued cycling through this one hill, but as the conditions grew more aggressive, snow pelting into our faces, creating a mask of ice, we decided to take one final run back down to the base.
Despite the overwhelming crowds, the day was deemed a success. We warmed up over sandwiches and local brews before getting down to our skivvies and dipping into hot-tub bliss, soaking our tired legs and dipping into pure relaxation. All that was left to do was sink into my darling's arms with a giant grin of satisfaction.
And as we returned to the condo, resting on our bed in the loft, I gazed out the window, reflecting on how absolutely fortunate I am to be here. This weekend will be a reoccurring one as we have access to the many surrounding slopes and this fabulous place in Dillon all season long. It is truly hard to believe that this idea that was once so far away and vague has now completely come to fruition. Here I am, surrounded by a peaceful winter wonderland, with my sweety, and the best slopes in the world are at our finger tips, ready to be explored all season long.