Powder

JUST DON’T SKI

no anchor, nothing to root us. Just white. As my wife drove toward the top of Cumbres Pass, where the Sangre de Cristos meet the San Juans in southern Colorado, we came to a complete stop in the middle of the road. Driving in complete white-out—the snow and wind relentlessly hammering Highway 17—we felt unmoored. We kept

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