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Summit Up

SUMMIT UP
Garth In Paradise by Scott Bullock
ALL |

Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column that’s got to stop living in the past. And we would, if only the present was a little more like it.Today’s column is about that four-letter word we all love. You know which one. Not any of the bad ones. The good one, the one we all dream about, drool over, live and die for, etc. We’re just not going to say it, because we’ll get angry letters from people saying we’re a jinx, and then people’ll get all carried away and our dermatologist said if we get tarred and feathered one more time, we’re likely to get psoriasis.

But we can’t help thinking about it, especially, as we said, when we get in a nostalgic mood. We were up at the Edwin Carter Museum in Breck the other day (because whenever we get a head cold, it just takes one look at all those taxidermied animals to realize, hey, we could be more stuffed up), and whenever we’re there, we always look at what we call the “storm of a lifetime photos.” We’re referring, of course, to the storm at the turn of the last century that dumped so much of that four-letter word in Breckenridge people were climbing out their second-story windows to play in it and had to dig tunnels just to get around town.If you haven’t seen these photos, well, don’t go look at them. It’ll make you sad.

But, being the gluttons for punishment we are, we go and look all the time. (Sound of massive sighing.)Our friend Karen at the Summit Historical Society tried to comfort us: Hey, she said, all those hurricanes in Florida was a storm-of-the-century phenomenon. Maybe we’re in for it this winter.

We’d like to believe that. We have this fantasy of being isolated from the rest of the world for a month because there’s so much snow, the Wildernest residents having to ski down the hill to get to work because the plows can’t keep up, kids setting up kickers on I-70 and hucking off the Silverthorne overpass, a whole camping community setting up at the Basin, mazes of tunnels winding through Frisco … you get the idea.***We’re out digging through the closet for the igloo brick-maker …


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