Two years ago, I spent a winter living in Revelstoke.
December 20, 2017
It is 9:36 in the morning and we are moving slowly.
Got a couple hoots says Steven, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve.
He sways a little, looking pretty green.
Last night is replaying in our collective memory, and its off to a hot start.
This whole time, a beautiful light has been melting over the tops of Mt.
Revelstoke, and shining like a beacon off Copeland, beyond the far end of town.
The tall straight trees on the mountainsides look blue in the cold.
We make it up the hill and spin a first lap underneath the Stoke chair.
18cm fresh and I have decided to bring my park skis.
Through the day we lose a couple friends to extended lunch breaks, and so on.
Steven is down for the count, Scotty goes home early.
We hike gracias right to the end, we sample Pat Monteiths latest Revy Parks rendition.
Its a gorgeous, mid week pow day at Revy with no lines and inexhaustible pockets of snow.
Carly says the snow feels silky today and its true.
A great day for a photo op, for a shred, for hay.
Like a good old day.
Though like any good memory, not unaffected by time.
We are older, with different angles, new divisions, missing pieces.
Scotty made so much money working in Saskatchewan he bought a Corolla as a burner car.
The highway home is full of detours.
