We huddle into our parkas, cowering from the high winds that lash our liftchair. The lift is designed to slow down when the little vanes on the wires sense more turbulence. The journey lengthens, and it is with considerable relief that we finally reach the top, and ski off the chair.
I am at the top of the Elk Camp lift, in Snowmass, Colorado. It's a beautiful, sunny day. I hike twenty or thirty feet uphill, in my skis (foolish girl who thinks she's in shape for this activity at 11,000+ feet) so I can get this picture.
It's why I fly into these crazy mountain airports, and why I ski. This, to me, is February.
My camera is an obsolete 3 megapixel Nikon that fits into my fannypack. The mountains framed by the valleys are the Maroon Bells in Aspen. I think it speaks for itself.