Once upon a time winter and spring got married and went on a honeymoon to Heidi-ho. Heidi-ho is Idaho, and that’s where I crashed said honeymoon this month, venturing up and down mountains whose heights were measured in the difference between the bride’s temperature and the grooms as much as in elevations. There was the high plateau of Stanley Basin where we crust-skied in sweaters, and Galena where bikinis were in evidence, and in between those elevations we skied Prairie Creek and Cathedral Pines in shirtsleeves. “We” is me and my adventure-loving friend Bruce Norvell.

Did I say “adventure”? Should’ve said “misadventure.” It’s the little calamities that make things memorable. Like my forgetting to bring ski pants to Idaho (take that, bikini triathlon at Galena). And then discovering after years of being buck naked in front of the windows of the guestroom I stay in at Bruce’s ranch that there are hidden cassette shades! Or getting lost and out of cell phone range when we split-up in the mountains. Or turning a tag-team dinner prep into Hell’s Kitchen. Or the Great Cathedral Ceiling 21-Foot Stepladder Fiasco in which Audrey II – the plant from Little Shoppe of Horrors – is re-routed along one wall. Or Attack of the Killer Voles and the Harry Potter Electrocution Chamber. Don’t ask. You had to be there…

Bruce is a most generous host and his small ranch outside Sun Valley has been my home away from home when winter dies in Mini-snowda for a half-dozen years now. From there we go on sprees of adventures that range from swims in a hot springs and breathtaking skis on lightning crust snow to fine dining or blackberry malts at Snow Bunny. Sun Valley is surrounded by meccas of unique venues and cultural events. Ski skimming across ponds, high-end shopping, a ride-slide-glide triathlon, heart-stopping vistas, soaring palisades, Disneyesque snowscapes, hidden inner sanctums along burbling brooks, legions of sentinel pines marching up to crags where eagles arc – the adjectives pale.

That said, my annual pilgrimage has broadened into more than a destination, owing to contacts along the way. Four days driving round-trip have become eight. My style of travel is always a little daunting, and this year was particularly difficult with storms in mountain passes, 70 mph gusts, and ghastly accidents along the route (three truck rollovers, including one with two fatalities crushed in a car). As I told someone, “…you know you’re in hazardous conditions when state troopers fly F-16s and fire warning shots instead of using sirens.” Hyperbole aside, the hazards are real. 

Blah…reading back over this, I realize I’ve failed to capture the essence of the whole two weeks. Beautiful people everywhere and so much grand conversation. But then, how do you describe spontaneous communication? So much depends on perspective, laughter, wit and perhaps a dollop of wisdom now and then. It can happen wherever you are, of course. You need not travel out of your own rooms. Or even out of a single room, as I discovered in a hotel in Butte. The room heater there ended each cycle with the death sigh of the Eastern Star mole punctuated by an orgasmic gurgle. We had lovely conversations. 

I tried to take photos and video, but they are poor substitutes for reality. The video awaits more editing time in my life, but help me out here with the photos, please. Imagine space leaping away from you on such a vast scale that you feel you are flying. Add dazzling diamonds parsing light into rainbows and crisp silhouettes. Now let chill air rush into your lungs, stunning your heart and firing your blood. You are squinting in the brilliance, but the camera is wide-eyed; and therein lies the difference between being there and capturing something static through a mere glass lens. Below: #1 a shot near the base of Galena; #2 another from high up in some nameless mountain; #3 ahh-h, crust skiing in the Stanley basin where you can wander with the wolves or ski along the purest creek ever; #4 Bruce and Ziggy; #5-11 more incredible vistas in the cauldron of creation reachable only by knowing nature’s hidden lanes; #12-13 yours truly sucking up the ether of paradise. 

You can find my latest archived column from StorytellersUnplugged right here: http://www.storytellersunplugged.com/2016/03/15/thomas-sullivan-its-your-world-now/#respond It’s a Q&A, including a summary question from my recent trip to California for the private Glenn Frey memorial and a visit with the Freys.

We like to look back on our past with condescension and think we’ve grown wise. And certainly we gain perspective with the passage of time. But seeing things through only our present needs and limitations and forgetting who we were and what it took for fulfillment and a meaningful life back then is just as narrow now as it was when we were young. In fact, in many ways it’s a diminishment of who we were or who we might have become. So I like to celebrate the past, keep faith with it. The past cannot age, you know, and so that part of you stays young forever. It resides in your heart, mind and soul. You can surrender that, letting your heart, mind and soul age into something decrepit, but why would you? Those intangible aspects of yourself are your true real estate. Incorruptible. Not subject to fear and guilt. Awaiting only a magical drop of courage to rehydrate, like a flower in the rain. Welcome to spring, my friends!