I believe every day should start out with quiet time, time to collect your thoughts, time to ease into the day. Today I have this as I find myself sitting in my car in the parking lot staring out the windshield, waiting for the lifts to open. A CD is playing but I can't hear the music. I'm focused on something but I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the wind-driven snow. Maybe it's just early. Yes that's it! It is early. Having left the house at a time designed to avoid the early morning ski traffic, this is the end result. It's an interesting way to start the day. It gives you time to think.

I see two skiers come into my field of vision crossing the windshield from left to right. They are skinning through the parking lot, past the lifts, heading up the mountain. I hit the wipes to clear the snow and look at the clock. It reads 7:08 a.m. A bit of jealousy fills me as my mind realizes that these two ambitious people are going to get first tracks. I feel lazy. I feel…I don't know what I feel. It's too early to feel. Then a thought comes to mind. I can be doing exactly what these two are. I have climbing skins in the back. I want to be doing what they are doing. I guess the question now is do I have the drive to leave the warmth of my car for the cold, snow and wind.

I quickly game plan my course of action. I make a mental picture of the location of my gear in the back. Maybe I should have organized a bit more last night or this morning. Either way it's too late now. I rush to the back of the car to put on boots, adjust poles and grab the remaining articles of clothes I need. The back door of the Jeep provides some relief from the blowing snow and wind but it's only temporary. I attach skins and off I go. Quickly I'm through the parking lot and past the base on my way up the mountain. It's a beautiful start to the day.

Skinning gives you time to think. To some degree that's what I love about it. It's just you and your surroundings. The weather forecast called for 1-3” of new snow last night. I would say that was pretty accurate. They call for 2-4” today and so far it looks like that will come to fruition plus some. It's shaping up to be the day I've been dreaming of. It's snowing hard and it's cold, cold enough to drive the everyday crowd inside to their hot chocolate and books. I hope it's not too cold to drive me inside. Deep inside I know it won't be.

It's quiet. That's one thing that really stands out. Normally when I'm climbing I'm in the backcountry, miles from anything and anyone except those with me. There silence is the norm. It's something I love. I've skinned up a ski mountain before but never before the lifts opened. I don't think you realize just how noisy a ski area can be until you stop and listen. There's chairlifts operating, snowmobiles and people. There's the ever present schussing sound of skis or the deep scraping sound a snowboard makes when it's scraping, not carving. The quiet has officially engulfed me.

I'm quickly making progress. Soon I am building up a sweat and have to remove a layer. The minute my shell comes off I realize how cold it really is. It feels invigorating though and somehow leaves me with a warm feeling in my core. On my neck, its crispness leaves tingles. It's the feeling of being alive. I look back at my progress and scan my tracks. They are starting to fill with snow, aided by the occasional gust of wind. That's a good sign. I continue to wonder why I haven't done this before.

Scanning ahead, I search for my end destination. I see a patch of trees near the top. They will provide a bit of relief from the wind as I re-tool. It's a steep hill and I wonder if my skins are up to the task. I have no option but to trust them. My breathing is starting to intensify as I work towards the top. My heart-rate shifts to the next level of aerobic state. It hurts a bit but at the same time feels good. My focus again shifts to my climbing skins. My trust pays off as they grab securely at the fresh snow underneath and sooner than later I'm standing at the top.

I look to my left and notice people riding the lift up. I hurry to remove my skins I don't want anyone skiing the run I just climbed. I'm selfish in thinking this but rightfully so. I've worked hard for this and earned this run. Or have I? I hear someone to my left. It's a ski patrol snowboarder doing his early morning work. Instantly I feel a bit childish at my attitude. He skis past me to runs farther away. He's just doing his job. I load my skins in my backpack and take in the view, what little there is. Wind and snow has taken the view away and I surely don't mind. It's going to be a great day.

I take a deep breath and I'm off. The snow is smooth and I immediately jump into position. Tele-turns come easy in this soft snow. The climb warmed my legs sufficiently and I don't feel the normal first run burn. I quickly shift weight from left to right, back and forth, dropping knees, savoring each turn. These are the turns I've been dreaming of. This is why I'm here. I have the run to myself and search for and find stash after stash of fresh snow. It's not long before I reach the base and the bottom of the lifts where everyone is lined up behind the rope, each jostling for the right for first chair.

I now realize that first chair means nothing to me.

Dave Martinez is a banker who loves to spend his free time outside skiing, mountain biking, backpacking, climbing, and the like.