Just Pixels

Family Vacation came to an end. We went snowshoeing the second to last night. Went to a remote location at the base of Breck Mtn. and traipsed around with a guide for a few hours. I find I quite like 'shoeing. I could also really get into cross-country skiing if I lived in an accommodating climate.


Lotta snow. The guide took this one. It was dark.


Alex rammed a tree. Fortunately he sustained no injuries.


Icicle shenanigans. Mama Stu salute.


PREPARE TO FIRE!


Tom, the guide. He lives in Breck during the winter and is a bush pilot in Alaska during the summer. Pretty cool.


Warming filter. Or just a foggy camera lens.

It happened again to me today. The age-old problem:

I was tired. I decided, "Hmm, I need a nap," and so I took one. But, as I bedded down, the invariable cold spirits were upon me. After consulting the micro heat pack, I burrowed under the down layers and the slumber took over.

But then the problem struck. The usual one. I woke up an hour later and I was on fire. With a quick unfurling of the covers, I rolled out of the sack, sweating and only partially awake. I moved by instinct, realizing my imminent incineration with continued time under the once necessary coverings.

So, not an uncommon napping experience this afternoon. But I still don't get it. Why can't I just take a nap and avoid accidental spontaneous combustion? Maybe I'll never know. But I don't think there's any way to avoid this napping woe. I'm obviously not going to give up napping...


And it's still snowing a lot here. A lot. Up to the eaves on the basement windows. Quite nice. If you're a snowy kind of person.

I skied today. I fell, and did it sort of dramatically. Ouch. And this relates to my theory:

Many people ski once per year. I am one of these people. Usually I ski three days, as do many others it seems. I feel the three day mountain-warrior experience has unique themes for each day.

Day No. 1: "Hesitant Revitalization"
You step into your snow-sport devices and apply sunscreen. You get on the slopes and marvel at all you remember. "WOW," you think. "I'm awesome! And I haven't skied in a whole year!" You find your muscle memory happy place but are mostly cautious. You have fun and revel in the experience (especially if you're from a non-mountainous land). You walk away feelin' good.

Day No. 2: "Too Big for Your Britches"
The day dawns and you step up to the plate. "I'm the bomb dot com," you think. You are arrogant, and mentally, if not verbally, berate other "rookies" on the mountain as you pass them. You act like you own the place. No, you do. You slide down the hill in a mostly out of control state. Speed and flippancy are your allies. The envelop is pushed. Disaster narrowly avoided. You get sunburned. You ski all day and on the last run at four o'clock you bite it. Hard. You might curse.

Day No. 3: "Who Am I?"
You rethink everything. Your body screams at you when you de-sack after your previous day of foolishness. Doubt is your best friend. You realize you ski once a year and have serious skill deficits. You are laid low. Penitence is paid to the mountain upon boarding the lift. Speed is exchanged with control. Arrogance for reality. You throttle back to 80 percent. You apply sunscreen to your virgin epidermis and then aloe to the burned hide. "Clearheaded Enjoyment" is your motto. You go for broke, but realize your place in the world. You leave some for next year, knowing that you will have the same three-pronged experience. Oh well. You walk away with a limp, but have a pocketful of quality memories.

So this is my theory. Maybe it's just a personal testimony. But I'm sticking by it.


Peak panoramic.


First-run-of-the-day excitement. Dinah is uninterested and focusing all mental power on body-heat generation. It was cold today.


D n'A.


I got longer skis today. *reader feels sense of foreboding* The 182s. Amazing what 8 centimeters of additional length earns you on the slopes (read: less control, more (too much) speed).
So about my crash today: my ski tips crossed while I sliced down the hill. My brain informed me I was in trouble just before the problem reached critical mass. I hurtled forward, poles strewn hither then yon. My face struck snow and bounced lightly off the snowy earth. Right shoulder dug into the pitch. Slid to a stop, all systems momentarily off-line. *three seconds pass* Reboot.

"OWWWWW..." I realized what happened.

A kind Samaritan helped me to my snow covered feet. He complimented my gravitationally challenged performance. I shook my head, clearing the cobwebs. I thanked him for the aid and continued (at a retarded pace) toward the base, a broken and aching man (until the next run).


Day No. 2 hubris in action.


Goggle Cam™


Some cloud shots. Very nice skies early in the day, despite formidable, blasting gales.






Cold Glory. huh huh...


None shall pass. It clouded over after noon, the wind mounted and things got REAL cold in a hurry. I do like the dramatic weather though. The power. The intensity. Pretty impressive to comprehend. And photograph. And then go inside and hot-chocolate yourself.


Lil' Cabin.

'Morning, Honey...

Big dog, little owner. His name is Szyslak, as in Moe Szyslak, the bartender on the Simpsons. He weighs 130 and was mostly uninterested in my paparazzoing. I like how everybody's got their dogs with them wherever they go.


Wonder if there's really booze in the jug...


I think they want us off the grass.


No crap.


Viking townie. Breckenridge had its annual winter parade today. Some costumery and pomp. Pretty fun atmosphere. Got some free paper viking horns too.

Cabin fever struck in the early postmeridian. The snowshoes were affixed and a jaunt in the still-falling white ensued. There has been a complaint about the yellow snow shot from a reader. "Why if you have all that scenery do you show the dog pee?" So, perhaps this will make up for that. I just like to show everything that's happening, you know?

Here are some other shots from a different perspective. Dinah finally updated her blog. It's like, some people just don't take their blogging lives seriously. Seriously!


Sorta sunset. An A for effort.


So you don't lose it.


Trunks.


Tops.


Nearby scene.


Nearby scene with more weather.


Neighborhood limits.


Resting position. One quickly learns one's fitness level when breaking trail at 10,000 feet. Especially if you're a native flatlander. My lungs fill to capacity over and over with seeming little effect. Almost like breathing thinner air with less oxygen...


Bigfeet.


Dollop.


Cabinscape (from the resting position).

Courtesy the dogs.

A short clip featuring Breckenridge's Cashier run. There weren't a lot of speed-diminishing turns. The weather proved enjoyable today. High in the mid-20s, mostly sunny, windy, chance of being really cold on the lift. A good day to ski.

Rearview Alex.


Breckenridge F.D. truck No. 6


Neglected Westy.




Colorado pines. Tall and skinny. In light of the tree damage from Oklahoma's recent ice storm, I feel those Mid-Western trees could learn from these Rockies timbers: short branches = light branches = intact branches.


F-350 vs. Nature.


Witty Dumpster.


And I got my camera to work again, mysteriously and magically. And thankfully! So, here's the aforementioned shot of the honky jumping in the snow bank. Not overly exciting for the viewer, but hey, you do what you can to embrace your environment.


Post dive. Snow everywhere it shouldn't be.


Stumbling out of the drift. I've never before experienced the advent of snow in the facial hair. Kind of weird.

He weighs 150 easily. A gentle giant.