Waiting for Denali

In early May, I felt the itch for a long backcountry trip far away from cell reception and computers. My slowly-healing broken ankle had kept me out of the mountains for any sustained period of time, and I needed the simplicity of slow coffee mornings, trails, and long sunsets. I wanted to wake up with no one around for miles. Continue reading

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The Aftermath

Yesterday, I strapped on my ski boot for the first time since I broke my ankle. I gingerly stuffed my foot into the plastic, buckled it loosely, and leaned forward, waiting for the pain to come screaming up my leg. It didn’t, so I thought, “Damn, I think can do this.” Continue reading