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We had the entrance tied back and were watching the shadows develop among the turrets of Castle Peak when two skiers christied to a stop at the edge of the brink below them and us. One of them called over: "Now that really looks comfortable! When do you serve the martinis?" "They'll be ready for your next run," I said, lying. "Are you going to spend the night up here?" "We're all set up to, and the boys would like to," I replied; and the boys had indeed said they wished they could. "But we're just trying this business a step at a time. We'll try for an overnight stop next trip." They took the steep pitch below us in style, like the ski-patrol pros they were. But they never did get back for |
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