A year ago, I moved myself to the Tetons, and shortly after made Jackson Hole my stomping ground.
Montana has my heart, but so does the man I followed into these peaks... and Jackson Hole and Grand Teton National Park are a nobrainer.
I had visited Jackson almost annually in elementary school (my parents have a timeshare in town), then a break as we made our annual trip out west to other destinations. College in Bozeman started up again the annual pilgrimage. But I never remembered seeing so many LADIES here. (Or in any of the ski towns I've EVER been to).
This blog’s been quiet for far too long! There are seasons when it feels good to hole up, live from a place of intuition –not getting too analytical or separated from direct experience. I spent summer sinking into safari tent living at Yellowstone Under Canvas. There were big Montana mountains to bike in, restore in, and a dock on Hebgen Lake for yoga. The best counter to winter ski life.
It was a day for red meat. My energy stores have been feeling so depleted in this downtime week between the Freeride World Qualifiers at Moonlight Basin and Crested Butte -for whatever reason, that after massage therapy I doubled up: I'll take the beef chili with a half Yellowstone topped with shaved beef.
It was an R & R Sunday for me. Then I opened my inbox and the simple: "thanks so much for replying me. I'm still studying...but my life has changed so much since my dad died."
My heart jolted. And off it sprinted, pulling me fully back into what has become an increasingly alternate universe.