Photographs by Emelie Frojen.
With my climbing skins on and my backpack tight, I stood at the trailhead, remembering the instructions that the REI employee gave me: Follow the Blue Diamond. Despite the six-foot-tall-man-bun-wearing-REI-employee-in-a-green-vest-and-khakis’ lack of resemblance to a munchkin, I couldn’t help but hear his instructions being sung to the tune of the yellow brick road song from the Wizard of Oz. And as my car and society disappeared behind me, I entered the forest looking for the blue diamonds on the trees and singing, “Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the bright blue diamonds.”
It wasn’t as quick as a tornado, but a blizzard, my skis, and five miles of backpacking took me to a place that’s just as new and exciting as Oz—the Aspen backcountry, with McNamara hut as my Emerald City.
I arrived on a Sunday afternoon and expected to be alone. However, that assumption quickly changed when I saw all the skis, snowshoes, and split boards outside of the backcountry hut. Inside, there was busy scene of people cooking, playing card games, and enjoying an après ski drink.
I sat down at a table to take my ski boots off and ended up starting a conversation with a group of Carbondale locals who seemed to have found their courage in the mountains. On their days off from work, they go to huts; when they are not able to escape to the backcountry, they hike the Aspen Highlands Bowl and ski down. The unpredictable Elk Mountain range does not scare them; rather, it empowers them to push the limits of their adventure. After my conversation with the locals, I took a little bit of their courage away with me.
That night, some of the hut members went out on a nighttime ski run, while I stayed in with some Aspen Ski School teachers and played Cards Against Humanity. I heard horror stories of middle school boys pulling down each other’s pants mid-ski run and heart-warming stories of children skiing their first black diamond. If love is patience, then these people had the biggest hearts of anyone I know. I decided to take a little bit of their heart for the next time I was on an overly crowded trail or a beginner ski run.
The night closed with a heated game of Hearts between several self-proclaimed ‘old hippies’ and me. Card tricks were played, wine was drunk, and stories were told about their earlier days as activists during the age of environmentalism. The spunky group cracked jokes at every possible moment and had break dance battles. One 68-year-old woman took off her top and ran around the living room just to get our attention. The old hippies have lived a lot but did not act as though they have done it all. They made an effort to have fun and laugh in every moment; for that, they were some of the wisest people I have ever met. I took a little bit of their wisdom and remembered to enjoy every moment.
My next few days in the backcountry hut were spent hiking up mountains, skiing powder runs, and knitting by the fire. But what made the experience was the people I met on that trip. No mater what season you visit a backcountry hut, put in the effort to get to know the community there, and you might leave with a little more brains, a little more heart, and a little more courage.