Off season, or mud season, is an interesting part of living in a ski town. It is a part that I had not considered when I moved to Crested Butte with visions of snow-filled mountains in the winter turned to exquisite views and countless places to wander in the summer. It is the in-between time of seasons when snow melts and turns to mud; when dog poop that was strategically buried in snowed-in yards suddenly comes into the open air and into our senses. It is a quiet time of year where no tourists come to visit, and few businesses choose to stay open. It is nice to suddenly not see a stranger no matter where you go. It is also a time when people who grasp the ski-bum life by the horns take to the road or to the beach. Last year Trent and I opted for the latter and spent a few weeks back packing through Nicaragua, a nice change of weather and scenery.
This year we packed up the truck and took off toward the South-Western US. We said good-bye to what was left of Colorado snow behind in exchange for desert sand. We traded in our skis for mountain bikes, and our hearts that live for mountains shifted in awe for exquisite red rock formations.
And our journey begins…