Almost as good as the skiing itself is the roadside lounging that occurs apres-ski. Shorts, flip-flops and lots of sun. It isn't the beach, but it isn't bad, either.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Spring Skiing Yellowstone's Washburn Hills
I have never surfed, but I have spent more than a few winters skiing. Spring - or this case - summer skiing is about as close as I think I can get to surfing without donning a wet suit and hanging ten, bro. Maybe it's my newly acquired Patagonia wonder t-shirt emblazoned with Hawaiian graphics...or maybe it's the blazing sun...or maybe it's the relative moisture of the surface on which we are sliding...whatever it is, Dick Dale and his surf guitar plays loudly in my head as I link lazy turns down the mellow slopes. Creamy-corn snow that is a week or two past-prime is becoming sun-pitted has a brown coloration indicating that these snowfields are not long for this world.
Almost as good as the skiing itself is the roadside lounging that occurs apres-ski. Shorts, flip-flops and lots of sun. It isn't the beach, but it isn't bad, either.
Almost as good as the skiing itself is the roadside lounging that occurs apres-ski. Shorts, flip-flops and lots of sun. It isn't the beach, but it isn't bad, either.
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