WHERE HEAVEN AND THE MOUNTAINS HOLD HANDS

If Wimberley is Where Heaven and the Hills Hold Hands; then Purgatory mountain at Durango is where Heaven and the Mountains Hold Hands. I love that place. Even when it's below freezing, I have a warm and fuzzy feeling inside from the one-thousand good memories I have of spending time there; from being a little kid with my brother and sister to seeing my sweet sister-in-law learn to ski (and become a pro at it) to having a smooch with my hubby at 11,000 feet. It is one of the top three places on Earth I long to be.

Aaron and I had a nice trip with my Mom and Dad. We skied three wonderful days. . . beautiful weather, almost perfect snow conditions (I would say perfect, but when you've skied fresh powder, it's hard to say anything is perfect if it's not fresh), and the best company. We had a little tournament of Spades one night. I won't say who dominated; I wouldn't want to embarrass anyone.

One night, all of the Snowcats came out and parked in front of our condo. There were probably seven or eight of them. The drivers all got out and disappeared for about an hour, and when they returned, I watched them all take-off and crawl up the mountain, like a little army in the moonlight. I watched them peel off one by one to their assigned trail, and followed the glow of lights floating up so high.

I concluded it would be okay to be lost at night on a mountain because at least you would be able to see well as the moon reflects so brightly off snow; and you wouldn't die of dehydration because you could eat snow; and you would be able to hear any bogey-men or bears approaching because snow crunches when you walk. Plus, if you were wondering what direction to go, just head in the direction of Down, duh.


ATB also spent some quality time admiring the scenery from the window. I wonder what types of important conclusions he came to while contemplating the snowy mountainside?