An Eden of unblemished snow soaring out of the mists of towering pines up and down mountains called me back to Heidi-ho (Idaho) like a perfect soulmate this month. It was icy, even treacherous, but that just insured solitude on the trails. And that magnificent hush, mountain high and forest deep, was the sound of absolute freedom.

Life-long friend Bruce Norvell has a small ranch nestled in the Sawtooth range, and for 5 yrs now he’s kindly shared his crystal paradise of breathtaking enchantments with me. The sensory impact is so vivid – sky, earth, water – that just remembering the images sets my blood coursing. Dynamic adventures and healing perfections shape the memories into monuments. Whether it’s the gentle benediction of a fresh snow or the blur on the edge of control over glazed descents, you come away with magic in your veins.

We skied and hiked and talked from one end of the universe to the other and all things came into perspective. As always, people play large in those scintillating two weeks of engagements, conversations and happenings away from MN. Most of their names are lost to me already – too many from shared menus and venues to keep track of – but there was a Mormon doctor and his family in a couple of sterling encounters while scarfing down buckets of blackberry malts at the Snow Bunny, and a Renaissance woman named Jaye who shared a world-class meal with Bruce and Janice and I at a place called Globus. Include Marissa the aspiring actress who should definitely star in Demi Moore’s next Liberty Theater production just down the road (Demi owns a house close by Bruce’s ranch). And then there is Paige Elizabeth Schember each day at Galena. A recent grad from St. Olaf’s in Mini-snowda, she is one of the top 25 women Nordic skiers in the world, not to mention a book person. Just back from competing in Europe, she had no trouble braving the dicey ice of Galena. Beautiful people all.

Ditto still others I met over two weeks on the road as different one from another as the daily adventures themselves. How to describe? I had to go all the way to Bozeman to eat fried alligator (tastes like chewy chicken), and I did not listen to my own warning, “No, Sully, do not do it…do not order Chinese food in Bismarck, North Dakota.” If you are what you eat, I’m half Mandarin now. It was occidental… And I was rescued by divine intervention in that wind tunnel known as Montana. 70 mph gusts and nugget-size hail caught me almost as exposed as the little dog named Toto that went whizzing by. The overhanging entry of a church named Evangel saved me, parting the storm like it was the Red Sea – I do believe in miracles.

The names around Big Sky and the back door of Yellowstone kinda tell it all: Bombing Range Road, Bad Route Road, Whoopup Creek. And dare I leave out CamelHump (yeah…all the bad camels hang out there)? Fortunately, I was cruising past on the best highway ever (I-90/94), wishing good buddy Glenn Frey would license Sirius radio to broadcast an Eagles channel so that I wouldn’t have to listen to myself sing “Life in the Fast Lane” a cappella.

I despair of capturing the full-sensory bombardment and soul-lifting calculus scribbled by my ski tracks over the month of trails just past, but here are some two-dimensional photos taken with a cell phone camera: #1 small streams like this one criss-cross the ski trails everywhere (No Left Turn…unless you’re a salmon); #2-3 trees etched against the light near Bruce’s ranch catch the eye; #4 a rock band at the foot of one of Sun Valley’s downhill runs was too good to pass up; #5-6 a couple of winter’s mundane miracles; #7 exhibit A proving that spring has sprung; #8 Bruce & Janice tripping the light fantastic at Sun Valley; #9 another Paradise vista on the ski trails; #10 Paige Elizabeth Schember, US Olympic gold medal hope in Nordic skiing from Wayzata, Mini-snowda, who now trains in Idaho; #11 Walt Disney could not have painted this scene better; #12 yours truly sitting in a tepee of driftwood on a dry riverbed.

As I mentioned, the mountains were extremely icy this year, and the rasping of the skis requires some editing of the audio on the vids I took. A GoPro was strapped to my chest and though it’s in a waterproof case, it picks up everything – even a beating heart. Not that my prattle is worth listening to, but you can hear the burble of the creeks along with the skis trying to hang onto icy narrow runs. I’ll have some video up shortly and a link in the May Sullygram.

Here’s my latest archived column, THE POETRY OF SHAVING CREAM or SCATTING THE SOUL, which deals with the music of life and poses a question you’re welcome to answer: http://www.storytellersunplugged.com/2015/03/15/thomas-sullivan-the-poetry-of-shaving-cream-or-scatting-the-soul/#respond

You can’t possess nature. She won’t be owned, no matter how exclusive you make her. Her idea of fidelity is to cut back on intimacy with another in your presence. But if this merely betrays your relationship less obviously, you must accept that she has favored you. This month, nature favored me. I wish you the same cherishable moments. They are what you were made for.

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Thomas "Sully" Sullivan

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