The relentless sniffles, growing amount of luminous white, colored strings of lights littering trees and houses remind me that my favorite season is here. A time for food, friends, family, but most importantly, shredding the gnar.
Sure, the holidays and spending time with loved ones is great, but in a winter wonderland, like Durango, it’s hard not to swap those things out for a pair of skis and some fresh snow. And who’s to say those loved ones can’t tag along as well?
What is the point of buying or chopping down a Christmas tree when the surrounding mountains are so inviting? Instead of dragging a tree through the forest, all I want to do is carry my skis above treeline and proceed to navigate my way through the aromatic forests below. Not to mention no money needs to be spent on ornaments and decorations.
I’d happily give up the stiff arches of icing topping that putrid, fruit filled Christmas cake for the magnificent arch of a snow-covered mountain face any day. All that food inhaled at Thanksgiving dinner is only slowing me down as my skis pull me and my protruding belly up that steep face.
Hot chocolate always tastes better when it’s lukewarm and being sipped out of the lid of a thermos, rather than singeing the tips of your already warm fingers wrapped around a ceramic mug.
And for some particular reason, the annual ski swap excites me more than any Black Friday sale ever could. Somehow it is easier for me to justify spending $200 on a new pair of Salomon bindings than a new iPad.
Something about hearing sleigh bells and carolers isn’t as exciting as the click of my boots fitting perfectly into my bindings. The most sincere present I could possibly ask for is someone offering me to drop into my line before them, having unlimited access to the pillowy, crystalline snow.
Over the years, Christmas has materialized into a monster of its own. No longer is it about spending time together, but more about how much each person is willing to spend on gifts that you’ll probably only use a couple times.
When it comes to giving presents in my family, every member can expect a friendly invitation to disturb perfectly placed snowflakes alongside me. Instead of waking up at midnight, the younger kids can come to the mountain with me and learn how to pizza wedge and french fry.
The mountains encompassing our happy little ski town are the gifts that don’t stop giving. Year after year, they provide a sparkling, frozen safe haven for all of us seeking shelter from such a materialized society.
Sorry Santa, but this year all I want is six feet of powder and a sturdy pair of skis (and maybe a new pair of wool socks because the heels of my current pair have dissipated). However, if one of his helpers wanted to talk to the snow goddess and ask for a record-shattering winter that would be great.
Lucky for me, and all ski junkies, this year is supposed to be the El Niño that tops them all.
So when you pass by my house during a snow flurry, when all the lights are off and the Christmas tree is missing from the living room, you know where to find me. I’ll be knee-deep in a winter wonderland all my own.
Rosie Fox is a features editor at El Diablo, the Durango High School student newspaper. Her parents are Maria O’Brien and Jonti Fox of Durango.
