Photograph by Neal Rogers. All text and image excerpts are reprinted by special arrangement with HarperCollins; copyright © 1995, HarperCollins.
"My skis and lower legs vanished in the fluff. With gravity's help, I burst up out of the snow and dropped into my next turn. ... My skis surfaced and dove down the fall line like playful porpoises, rhythmically launching into the air out of each turn and landing in deeper furrows of sugar. Snow poured down my collar, billowed over my head, washed under my arms. Again I gasped for air; again my mouth filled with snow. Going too fast...can't stop...too much snow...too much air...flying."
--From essay "Local Powder" by David Goodman
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