Not every outdoor adventure has to be epic | Outdoors

SUMMIT COUNTY • Cozy in the window seat of the newly built log cabin, I peered out at the snow that had settled on the needles of the plentiful fir trees beyond. The sun was shining, bathing Bald Mountain in warmth even on this January day.

If I craned my neck, I could see ski tracks traveling up the hill. The rest of the group I’d trekked with to reach Sisters Cabin, a 10th Mountain Division Hut east of Breckenridge, were carving through the meadow’s softening powder before the sun set.

We’d spent the morning traversing four miles of trail through the woods (starting at French Gulch Trailhead) on backcountry skis. I was relatively new to the sport and was eager to loosen my boots as soon as we arrived around lunchtime. When someone suggested a few pre–happy hour laps, I kindly demurred. My book — and that window seat — were calling.

Coloradans like to play hard. We wake up at 3 a.m. to hike 14,000-foot mountains, climb walls of ice and ski the narrowest of couloirs. At least, some do.

When I joined my friends on my first hut trip in 2013, to Eiseman Hut near Vail, I was in over my head. It required a six-mile ski on a backcountry setup I’d never used; I had no idea what skins (strips of fabric that attach to the bottom of skis for traction) even were. Due to navigation issues, it took almost an entire day to get from the trailhead to the cabin. The surrounding terrain was known for its steeps and couloirs. My adventure buddies were primarily avalanche-trained, advanced skiers and snowboarders, while I was a solid intermediate resort skier. While they hooted through thigh-deep powder the following day, I stayed inside, reading and playing cards.

But my downtime was diluted by an overwhelming sense of guilt. How could I make the effort to journey this deep into the wilderness and not experience the wilderness? Wasn’t I, as a good Coloradan, supposed to go hard all the time? Shouldn’t I also be chasing face shots on those picturesque slopes?

It’s taken many years and many more adventures to wash myself of those notions. The outdoors do not exist to be mastered or conquered. At least, not all the time. I spend enough of my day-to-day routine setting and targeting goals for my business and for myself. Mother Nature offers a much-needed break from that achievement mindset. It’s a place where I can just be. Where everyone is, and should be, welcome.

That doesn’t mean I’ve never aimed for the top of a fourteener or pushed myself to ski a harder line or attempt a tougher mountain bike route. I want to challenge myself and try new things — and, as any outdoorsperson knows, many of the most astonishing views require effort to see. But I’ve managed to find a balance between those ambitions and simply basking in the beauty of where I’ve chosen to live, whether that’s relaxing around a campfire, floating on a stand-up paddleboard or trading an alpine ski day for an easy snowshoe.

I finally settled into that comfort zone during my trip to Sisters Cabin. It was a group outing with women I didn’t know well. I didn’t have anything to prove to them and, if they did judge me, I likely wouldn’t see them again anyway. When they headed out on those afternoon laps, I happily settled into my seat, the wood-burning stove flickering, and cracked open a new book. It was a rare opportunity to let my brain click off, with no cell service or to-do list to distract me.

The next morning, while they squeezed in a few more runs, I sipped hot tea and took in the panoramic view of the Tenmile Range and Breckenridge Resort. Soon, I’d have to buckle into my boots for the four-mile journey out. That would be enough of an undertaking for a Thursday. Until then, I wanted to bask in the gift of quiet that can only be found deep in the wilderness.