Hyalite Peak

I met the French in downtown Bozeman. Being French, and being in Bozeman, they were quite easy to spot. We had been conversing for several months and finally they were here – here to ski in Montana. They had a van, and a few got in my truck, and we motored up Hyalite Canyon slowly on the icy road. In the parking low, we geared up. They had small, light European skis, while I had wider, bulkier American skis; they had bright bags and bright jackets, I had a grey bag and black clothes. Despite the differences, they were in fine shape, and we made short order of the canyon, emerging into the cirque below Hyalite Peak in dense fog and cold temperatures.