I’m sure a lot of skiers and snowboarders have experienced that special moment when you feel like the mountain is speaking to you.

I’ve also had moments when I swear the mountain is singing me a private serenade as I push my skis through effortless powder turns or relax into gravity’s pull on a smooth, forgiving groomed run.

There are days when the mountain speaks to you through the chirping birds, or the hoots and howls of fellow skiers endulging in the hedonistic pleasure of freshly fallen powder. When a storm screams in and blows a fury of snow into every crack and crevice around.

I believe the mountain always has a story to tell. Some days, you have to listen a little more deliberately to hear it.

Today, the mountain was speaking in a whisper, just one note above silence itself.

There were no hoots and hollers, no sounds of edges gripping squeaky snow. The fog dampened any hint of other humans on the slopes, and the runs were as smooth and soft as crushed velvet. Silent, but still beckoning.

Urging us to give in to the tempting call of smooth corduroy and steady gravity – despite our reluctance to dive into the foggy abyss.

Urging us to take a moment to find a burst of nature’s color among the shades of gray.

To appreciate a hint of nature’s softness atop the hard lines of man-made metal.

Sometimes, the mountain roars with a fury that sends vibrations straight to the core of the skier’s soul. Other times, it merely whispers in your ear and says, “Shhhh…don’t forget to listen”.

– April