The Lucky Skin Track

A year ago I was skiing with two friends on a popular peak in Hatcher Pass. Conditions were blue bird and soft, and lots of people were out. We met up with a group of skiers with some mutual acquaintances that had staged cars for an extra-long run, and though the size of the crew was exceptionally big, the aspect was a good one for a large group, and we were invited to join for a lap.

I can’t say I noticed anyone in particular on the climb up, but one skier - a short and high-spirited woman - laughed so much on the way down it was hard to miss her, or avoid laughing with.

I’m not sure if I even got her name that day, but a week later I skied with her again, and then again, and again and again.

She became my go-to partner.

She laughs and jokes the whole way up, and rips the slopes on the way back down. Deep blower pow to whale snot; blue bird viz or solid curtains of white; big objectives or laps in the sun: she's game for it all.

The fun doesn’t stop at the bottom of the mountains or the end of winter either: her laughter is no less contagious or unbridled on skinny skis, singletrack, or in running shoes,

I’m lucky to have a lot of great ski partners, and I mean no disrespect to any of them when I say this: but she is easily my number one.

I couldn’t have guessed who I was skiing with that sunny February day, but I’m pretty lucky I was on that skin track.