This is the view we had for a week, you can hate me. My parents have had this place for years and I have gone from a painful tolerance at the age of 14 when all I wanted was phone service to a physical need for fresh mountain air every summer. Everything is so much simpler and God feels so much closer but the groceries and gas and too freakin expensive. Now at this time of year the roads are snow packed, so everywhere you go you have two options - snowshoes or snowmobiles. Now don't get any glorious ideas of shiny red 70-mile per hour machines of fun, think 1980's POS that work half the time. I think my dad did that on purpose because him and my brother and Brian spent half the time with the hood up and passing tools around making Tim Allen grunting noises. This is my favorite, notice the animal print seat and name on the back - CHEETAH baby! It goes perfectly with my 8th grade ski suit, known in my family as the purple penguin.
While the snowmobiles get you where you want to go and fast, snowshoeing was one of the funnest things I have done in quite sometime. It makes you feel apart of the wilderness, not like you are tearing through scattering little deer for miles around. The only sound you make on the shoes is HUH HUH HUH as you are panting up the hill. As my mom so graciously demonstrated for us, the snow is quite deep and cold without the shoes...her suit does not have a name, any suggestions?
Here's one of my favorite pictures from our walks, and if you could see all our pictures you would keep looking at Brian and Hunter's backs, I played catch up most of the time we were out walking. Good exercise at over 10,000 feet if you ever get the chance.
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