SnowReports Moves to Denver

I have made my way across the desert west to the Rockies of Colorado to make my home.  This isn't  my first time living in Colorado, but Denver is a new city to me and I see my new Colorado with a fresh set of eyes.  I am eager to return to all that the mountains have to offer from fishing to hiking, 4x4 to snowboarding, mountain biking and endless opportunities for photography and travel throughout the state.  I have been here for nearly a month and Denver has already seen three snow storms, our last being the largest at two days and nearly 15" of snow.

Why did I move back to Colorado?  I moved to Denver to make a home near the mountains where the city offers work and also adventure, while escaping into the crags is no more than an hour drive.  My separation over the last 18 months from the mountains had a major impact on my being, not just the separation, but the, not know if I would ever be in them daily again.

Now that I am back, I yearn to be in the peaks, in the quiet crags and taking in all of the solitude.  The mountains have been to me about freedom and exploration, the quiet beauty and our unmerciful mother nature.  In the past, I have enjoyed the high elevations on foot mostly in the summer and some in the fall, but winters had mostly been enjoyed on a snowboard.  Now that the snow is falling and I am eager to hike, my thoughts drift to daydreams of Jerry Jones, a professional Big Mountain snowboarder with an insatiable hunger for hiking and adventure.  His ideas for a perfect day consist of a solo or single partner hike into the backcountry for a grueling full day ascent and a brief but ecstasy inducing descent.  His day is about solitude, quiet rhythmic boot steps, and pain.  His day is also about that perfect moment when all at once your view clears and all you can see are white peaks from horizon to horizon and a massive sky overhead.  It is about the great friend who joined him on this occasion and the anticipation of the rush of the descent.

Standing on a perch, overlooking a long arduous hike and scoping the most fluid and effortless line available, a erie silence sets in, you can only here your heart racing, the snow crunching quietly underfoot and nothing.   As you set your board down and strap in, you are alone.  Even if someone has joined you on this day, in this moment of reflection and contemplation, you are alone.  You are alone with you thoughts of years past and of the the amazing view in the current moment.  You are alone with the pain of the hike and the sheer magnificence of the view and reality of your place in the world.  You are alone with your unanswered questions and your regrets, your deepest fears and your unrealized dreams.  You are all alone with your future in your hands, you look back at where you've come from and you must visualize where you go from here.

All at once the quiet solitude is shattered when the sounds of silence are replaced with wind whipping past your ears and the roar of scrapping snow across the base of your board.  The moment of contemplative reflection is replaced with the burning sensation of pure adrenaline coursing through your veins while you mind pauses and your breathing comes to an almost complete stand still.  All of the work, pain and suffering through the freezing temps and grueling hike is rewarded with an effortless Zen like descent to the base the mountain and back to your ascending footprints.  And back to your footprints...your future, your past and your new realizations.