The origin of every journey has the same beginning- the first two steps. Take that first step here. Feel your nerves subside as you plunge into your first vertical descent, the first glide across the magical ice crystals that provide riders with the ecstasies that last all winter and (fingers crossed) spring long. Learn about the joy that overpowers the bitter cold and extended darkness of winter, as you move through the snow for the first time this month, this season, or ever. The warmth of a delightful new beginning engulfs you. Let it rush over not just on opening day, but all season long.

Retain the memory of crisp winter air refreshing you, clearing your lungs, adding a needed invigoration that repels your sloth. That excitement becomes a thread in the fabric of you winter memories. Remember why deep in the recesses of your sub conscious, you know winter is not for hibernating. No, winter is the jolt of new life you’ve been waiting for since your boots were dried and stored after last spring’s thaw. Enjoy the flourish of winter and thrive in the snowy canvas, just waiting for the first two steps.

Work, school, the nine to five grind, the everyday hustle- although impossible to avoid, they separate us from our natural instinct. To break through this boundary, we find a new, innate desire of our body and mind to find a quiet spot to hear the calling of our soul. The voice within us connects to our natural need to discover the promise of freedom and clarity that only the solitude of lone exploration can make good on.

At the height of this search through the vast wilderness, we often find more than just fresh snow, untouched powder, or a peaceful stillness in the pines. Instead, we find a piece of ourselves that we long forgot. A piece of that natural instinct is reclaimed, and the mountain restores us, heals us, and makes us whole again. Find yourself in Vasquez Ridge.

Some journeys go in search of questions your mind had yet to wonder. You begin, perhaps with just a simple drive to continue, but as you approach the impalpable summit, your heart beat quickens and your breath catches.

You realize the source of your wanderlust as your stomach flutters. The views are just starting to reveal themselves as the chairlift hovers close to the top. You’re 12,000 feet up. The world is standing still, for a brief moment, each hurdle falls away as a distant, forgotten memory.

You are on top of the world, and that is the only thing that matters. Your skin prickles with goose bumps, despite the sun’s rays streaming from the blue bird sky. The journey has just begun, and you chase your adventure on a unique path down.

Timing is everything. Pumping your legs, until you’re high enough you can kick the tree tops, and you reach your maximum height before launching off the swing on the playground. Climbing the steps to the big slide, knowing, today is the day you’re going to ride solo.

Your inner kid is pushing the GO buttons inside you as you look down at the adult playground below. You are part of the minority that hasn’t lost that youthful passion for life, that freedom that comes with little to no inhibitions.

The terrain park is the place to recapture that inventiveness, that playful spirit that emerges with every trick. The mountain is your playground, and runs are hybrids of creativity and pure amusement, as intuitive as recess.

Dim headlights hit exposed dirt just after the plow made its early morning drive. The sun isn’t up just yet, but you don’t have anywhere else to be. Your seat warmer radiates, as more eager riders pull up, their headlights looking increasingly dimmer as the sun starts to illuminate those enchanting bumps. Streaks of golden rays reach through the trees.

Although the lifts are not yet buzzing, and C Lot is still quiet, you know this is the calm before the storm. By the end of your day, you’ll be sipping on a cold one amongst the old gang, but you can’t get ahead of yourself just yet. Getting a glimpse of the powder, you feel your blood pumping. The anticipation hits you harder than the coffee you’ve been sipping since the start of your drive. You can just image how you’ll test your reflexes navigating the evergreens. The trees and bumps are like old friends, familiar, yet always keeping you on your toes.

And the Jane herself- she’s a lady that has long ago stolen your heart. It all feels like a home away from home, yet there is always a surprise. Taking that first seat on Iron Horse you know you’ll pick up with Jane right where you left off.

A mysterious force guides your ride. It pulls your ski tips through soft powder stashes and navigates you through the maze of trees with dreamlike precision, just as a compass needle spins and slices to always find its northern anchor. The spirit of the Eagle joins your journey, a present copilot as elusive and enigmatic as a second shadow.

The master of the sky gifts you with his majesty, strength, and freedom as you find a new connection with the woods around you. Your heart beats with a new energy, and suddenly, your tracks are more than just impressions in the snow. The wind whips, and just as a cold gust ruffles the feathers of an eagle gliding across breezy pockets of air, you float through another exhilarating run.

Silence pierces through you so intensely, the only thing you can hear is the echo of your pulse between your ears right before dropping into the sickest line of the season. You pick your line and own it with a fiery appetite for the extreme. Although only moments before you were riding up on the Cirque Sled, it seems lifetimes away, as you can only focus on the moment of now.

The world has officially melted away, and your furor for adrenaline pumping through your veins is taking over. The mountain becomes the backsplash to your obsession with this feeling of thrill.

It isn’t that you’ve never seen stars before, it’s just you’ve never quite seen stars that shine so brightly in clusters of such abundance. You overhear quips from locals in a lighthearted spat, but it is distant, and fades into the wallpaper of the town scene. Instead, you cannot stop yourself from craning your neck upwards in wonderment. The stars here have a glow that is not hindered by a cloak of industrial smog or diminished by the illustrious radiance from city enterprise. Instead, their authentic intensity glistens against the dark night sky- reflections of the town and the people who call the Valley their home. These celestial bodies are the perfect comfort to travelers, like you, especially as the day dissolves into nightfall.

The playground that unfolds at the base of the Continental Divide, is tucking itself under the covers and readying for rest. Sleep is a small price to pay for the energy exerted during daylight adventuring. Cheers of friends break you from your enchantment, as they join you outside in the night. Tomorrow is another day to play in the habitat, the territory, the home of the mountain.