The morning air brought chills across the land. Trees shook and snow flurried about the ground creating the mountain smog. The cold metal of the chair lift endured the morning breeze comfortably, while the two on it sat silently tucking themselves away from the frigid air. Puffs of clouds rose from both of their mouths as they breathed in the rejuvenating gusts, only to disappear from sight within a few seconds. The quiet breath of the mountain and the groaning of the iron monoliths holding the two companions was all that was heard.
The lift dragged the onlookers forward, pushing through the morning breeze. Their suits could not have contrasted more. The sitter on the right wore pale blacks, blues and whites that matched the colors of the mountain. The mountain's own blood was put into the suit he wore. The sitter on the left wore a dark yellow jacket, whose tone jumped to the eye. The jacket emitted a radiance that drew the attention and opinion of all, but the lift sitter was content his choice of non-conformity. They both sat with their chins tucked into their jackets and their arms glued to their sides, just like a child might when things do not go his way. Their skis looked like modified rainbows and illuminated the white backdrop of snow that lay below them.
The main peak of the mountain lay ahead of them, and two other peaks stood out at both left and right. The mountain ridge hugged the chair lift and extended far back behind the skiers creating a winding valley. Beyond the ridge line to the right lay an open meadow high in the Sierras that was invisible to the lift sitters. A gap between two peaks to the left revealed the breathtaking view of Lake Tahoe.
And then they were at the end of the train. The two skiers then got off the lift and got on to the trail, Ending the long, beautiful journey up the mountain and beginning a new one on the way down.
