Opa’s Cold Hands
Skinning up the north face of Snodgrass Mountain today, wearing Opa’s ski mitts, I couldn’t help thinking of Opa — how his hands were always cold, and how he loved outdoor activities any time of the year. I think he missed his calling; he missed his Colorado calling.
I missed him today.
Tags: "crested butte", colorado, ski, snow, telemark
This entry was posted on Wednesday, February 13th, 2008 at 9:55 pm and is filed under ski. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.