Perhaps the fact that the sun was angled as far away from the Rockies as possible is what made it so frigid that evening. We did not care about the extreme cold, or the fact we all had been working our fingers to the bone, (as most in a winter resort town do during the holiday season.) We were not going to let anything spoil our plans for the Winter Solstice, especially this one which fell so close to the full moon.

 

One August day, as a group of friends was scouting new ski lines from a 13,635’ summit, a slight flash caught one of their eyes. “Give me the binoculars,” said JP. “I think that’s a hut but it’s not on any of the maps. Let’s go down there and check it out.”

 

As we ran down the chute that would later prove to be one of the better late season lines in the area, we saw it in all its glory: an old mining shack situated up on a peninsula-like plateau, elevated safely above avalanche chutes on both sides. The unusual Indian summer gave us a chance to prepare the cabin for winter. We hauled in a patio fireplace, converted it to a wood burning stove and insulated the larger holes in the fascia with mud. With a couple more “homey” additions including a battery operated radio that happened to pick up our favorite local station in perfect clarity, The Plymouth Hut was born.

 

The crew assembled at the trailhead at 10PM on the evening of the Solstice and the skiers strapped skins to the skis while the snowboarders donned snowshoes to navigate up the drainage through the chest deep snow. The last member to arrive announced that digital thermometer in his vehicle read -1 degree F.

 

The normal two hour trek up to the hut, which sat at 11,877’ above sea level, seemed to take no time at all that night. I am unsure if it was the beauty of the untouched snow glowing under the moonlight or my eighty pound backpack that made me forget about the extreme cold that only became more intense as we gradually gained vertical.

 

We got the fire roaring upon arriving and elevated the air temperature of the cabin to forty degrees Fahrenheit within the first couple hours of stories, games and laughs. The shared love of friends in our magical place as well as the occasional nip of tequila provided us all with a quality bout of sleep that evening. A dog in my sleeping bag gave me a thermal advantage over some.

 

In the morning we woke to find severe avalanche conditions and were prevented from traveling into the basin and up to the ridge that contained the steep, exposed terrain; which was not at all surprising that time of year. We would eventually have to wait until the end of April to get the goods but the safe and mellow run though the aspen lined forest back to the cars ended up being as much fun as anything else could have ever been.

 

I learned a lot about myself and life in general on that particular winter evening, most importantly that you are never too old to build forts and that I was no longer too “tough” for ski boot heaters!