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posted by Sandy Fails Comments: 0 comments

            My husband Michael has turned into an uphill fiend. Five mornings a week, while I linger under warm bedcovers, he heads out into the sub-zero dark to tromp up Crested Butte Mountain and ski back down before the chairlifts start running.

            Sometimes he joins other uphillers to gnaw on political gristle (see John Norton’s story “Winter mornings with the Politburo” in the current Crested Butte Magazine). But on Sundays Michael likes to climb in solitude and spend some time on one of the pews of his alpine cathedral.