These are some photos of our trip. I am not going to write a story because I have been recently informed by my wife that “No one really reads the words, they just look at the pictures.” So I have decided to curtail my journalistic tendencies and limit my words to a bare minimum. I was once told that the sign of a good writer is being able to tell a story in the least amount of words possible. So here goes:
Christmas money blessing, winter storming dressing. All our friends must stay, but we go to Mammoth anyway. Arrive at Stovesand lodge, greeted by unexpected barrage. With our re-united friends, mischief hot-tub mission then begins. 6 degree snow field in the middle of the night surprised drunk, raging, naked hippies… what a sight. Slip into the warm hot-tub, gaze at endless stars above. Stay up late, wake up late, we’re late to the best skiing day of the year. Pass Mammoth mountain, ride the frozen chair at June to untracked corduroy slops and shed a tear. Frozen carrots and peach tea, non-stop skiing and fresh tracks all day. Sleep hard, wake up sore and realize muscle make you pay. Ski from top to bottom, best fun on the day, we think were dreaming. Ski same run again and now our muscles are screaming. Ski till four, just can’t ski anymore. Journey home must begin. So quickly Christmas, please come again.
No comments:
Post a Comment