winds of Patagonia Edit

Off to Italy

With a few finger taps on the keyboard opening the internet world storm forecasting, and the ability to hop a plane and a minutes notices. Leaving only the slight stress of catching the storm to be ones nagging worry. In a way expanding technology can take the true adventure out of traveling.

So as I'm jumping on a plane out of Salt Lake, the sleepy eyed anticipation is running hihg as a storm is forcasted to hit the Italian Alps. My final destination and the little village of Algana and the ski resort of Mont Rosa. But first I will meet up with writer, photographer Tom Winter, and Alaskan Heli-guide Will Spilo in Milan.

'Mr Coots, can you please report to the gate for a  new seat assignment?" What I can't get bumped from this filight is running though my mind as I walk up. "Hi, "I'm Mr. Coots" Mr. Coots, we have upgraded you to business class". That little sentence has taken a lifetime of travel to get to hear and will take a lifetime to forget.

Pushing through the large crowd of Italian tourist milling around the gate as the business class is being called to board the plane: I can feel the stares and looks they are piecing my back like a hot knife in butter. After boarding the plane and a quick glass of  champagne and a hot towel I begin to settle into my seat soon the rest  of the plane files past me, and so do all of the eyes, their thoughts are written across their faces, "who is that guy and why is he in up here". Well even a blind squirrels finds a nut sometimes. I think to myself.  Soon after taking off the guy next to me begins to ask what my palns are for my trip to Europe. I tell him I"m meeting up with a writer and photographer in Milan and we are traveling the Alps to generate viral marketing for Dynastar the brand of skis who I work with.

"Don't they have any European athletes to do this? I'm sure there is a lease one long haired cool guy in Europe" I look at him slightly confused "well I guess" I'm thinking I thought we were full of D bag fashion designers in the US, but we let you in. Soon the plane touches down into the fog that blankets the city of Milan. I quickly collect my bags and kick back waiting for Tom and Wills flight to get. Soon Tom and Will walk out of the Arrivals gate and we meet up and head for the rental car and begin the two-hour drive to Alanga. Rain is lightly coming down on the windshield: the sounds of the wipers cleaning off the rain slowly putting me asleep.

I wake as we pull into are hotel for the night, modest hotel from the outside, but on the inside the place comes alive. Locals milling around the small hotel bar, talking singing and just enjoying life. After one of the best bowls of pasta I have ever had and one to many glasses of wine I crash on my pillow to dream of Italian powder.

Hopping back in the car the following morning, my mind is still a little cloudy for all of the wine, and with the winding road out of the valley,  I begin to feel a little car sick. I thinking don't get sick. That isn't a good way to start your trip. But what I'm most worried about is that it's not snowing, Where is that storm?

We slowly pull into the parking lot and the first tram that will quickly rush us up the mountain. We quickly boot up and begin are first day of skiing. A day of exploring the Monta Rosa, we soon see that this place is huge. It stretches arcoss three valleys as far as the eye can see little gondolas and trams zip up the mountain. And the best part of the day of exploring is all of the Italian skiers stick to the groomers craving it up. leaving the off-pieste un tracked and a lifetime of skiing a head of us. I soon forget that it's not snowing. Clouds begin o fill up the valley, maybe the storms just a little late, Better late than never.I guess only time will tell. Mother nature still is one in charge, no amount of internet storm forecasted can predict the weather completely. You still have to be a little lucky.

2009 Japan Powder Edit