Sitting cozily by the fire, listening to Ryan and Josh banter back and forth about disgusting things that bring you back to grade school - ah, the life. And they weren't kidding when they said at Beaver Creek you're not exactly roughing it.
But today we attempted and succeeded at roughing it. We thought two days of lift serve would be too taxing for the legs - pumping too much lactic acid through them and making us suffer. Instead we decided skinning up from 8,000 feet to 11,050 feet would be fine. Um - did someone forget we came from ski, I mean sea level? So at about 10,000 feet, us Washingtonians were suffering as Walker, Mr. Durago-I'm-a-pro-24-hour-mountain-bike-rider-genetic-fanatic skinned up the mountain and broke trail for the rest of us. You could climb about 10 feet before feeling like you would pass out of exhaustion. We eventually made it to the top - huffing and puffing praying with each step up hill we'd ski down some killer powder. And that's when we started roughing it - the snow was crusty and icy underneath - which was very conductive to side slipping down the hill. Not to mention it was windy and about 12 degrees. Chilly! And I'm not talking about the gourmet cuisine in the Spruce Saddle Lodge.
We were very stoked to run into the cat track the runs by Beano's cabin between Grouse Mountain and Strawberry Hill. And you bet we hit up the Dusty Boot for beers and a burger for $6 - the best deal in the Creek.
Tomorrow we venture to Vail to check out the fur coats and trendy side of Eagle County. Not too many double blacks to be had - but with over 5,000 acres of ski-able terrain - we should be able to find something to challenge us.
"No, no! I don't want the Beaver Creek map on my balls!" Josh shrikes to Camille. You can bet there's more stories to be had and pictures to follow...