Epic can't explain it

Skittle thugs call it gnar-gnar pow-pow.

I call it bliss.

Woke up this morning to that feeling of... "I don't want to do anything. But you have the whole day off. You better do something."

I'd just gotten the text message from Winter Park, announcing six inches of fresh snow over the pass. I sighed to myself, thinking, "Surely, Copper didn't get any of that."

And a half hour later, when I finally got out of bed, I logged onto skireport.com.

17 INCHES OF FRESH SNOW AT MONARCH???, I thought. I'M GOING!!!

Figuring it was worth a shot to get AL and Donny on board with my scheme to leave at 8:30 (well after one SHOULD leave for a powder day at Monarch, a two hour drive away), I went and sat on AL's bed.

"Wake up," I said.

She shook her head no.

"Wake up," I repeated. "I have a question to ask you."

She squinted through half-shut eyes with an inquisitive look.

"Do you have to ski with your family today or do you want to go ski a foot and a half of new snow at Monarch?"

Her eyes opened a little more as the words penetrated the deep sleep she was emerging from.

"Ask Donny what he wants to do," she said.

In the other room, her six-foot-five cousin Donny was curled into a sleeping bag, still snoozing despite the excitement I exuded.

"Donny," I said. "Do you want to go ski fresh tracks at Monarch?"

His eyes snapped open and he rolled over to stretch as he muttered, "Maybe."

By quarter to eight, I had both on board to head for the hills south of Leadville, through Buena Vista and past Salida. By quarter to nine, we were in the car and on the way, with Donny's comment accompanying us the whole way: "I think that's the fastest we've gone from being dead asleep to getting on the road."

With Jurassic Five and Mighty Mouse tunes wafting through the vehicle, we traversed the scenic landscape of the collegiate peaks, the Arkansas River and the San Isabel National Forest, waking up slowly as the sun's rays awakened the frozen valleys.

By the time we got to Salida, the sun was brilliant, and AL admitted she was wondering where the snow was that the forecast promised to be hovering all day. But by the time we climbed near to the summit of Monarch Pass, her four-wheel-drive Exploder was our best friend.

And so ensues an epic day, riding 11 inches of fresh on top of six inches on top of 11 inches two days prior.

How can one explain the exhilaration of surfing down Mirkwood Bowl? Of floating through and around the trees off Garfield Chair and Christmas Trees Peak? Of hucking a cornice and falling into the closest thing one can get to our youthful cloud visions?

It's breathlessness as snow puffs from the ground at each turn, hitting your face like waves pounding the sand at the beach. It's bliss as there's not a sound throughout that 1,000-foot drop but for the soft snow falling - and the high five and thrilled comment of joy to fellow skiiers and riders at the base of the run.

On the way home, we realized the cold toes, fingers and faces didn't matter during the day. As we chowed down on the food we'd forgotten, we reminisced about the day. And as we emerged from the Monarch Cloud, still dumping on the mountain still unknown to many, the sun shone on the awe-inspiring San Isabel forest with its mountains and valleys, cliffs and dips, rivers and creeks and homes tucked into the landscape.

We looked at each other and sighed. It was good.