I remember my first day in the backcountry. The backcountry looked so peaceful yet vivid while looking beyond the low clouds to the other parts of the backcountry. I had never known that the backcountry could be such an amazing sight to behold but there I was - in the backcountry.
I clicked into my skis high atop the peaks of the backcountry. The backcountry was waiting for me, waiting for my first turns; the backcountry practically yearned it. I took one final look in to the backcountry before taking a deep breath and turning my tips downhill into the steep hills of the backcountry. When I slid down, it seemed that the backcountry had almost no limits, no end to its vast reaches or its hidden nooks - of the backcountry, I mean.
I began to gather up speed on the inclines of the backcountry and I was ready for my first kicker in the backcountry. I could see the jump ahead of me - built marvellously into the pristine backcountry. I readied myself for the kick and tried to remember what would be the first trick I would land in the backcountry. A flip. Yes. That will do.
I approached the lip and the backcountry wind was rising. My speed was way over backcountry limits and I knew there was no return - the only way out of the backcountry would be with a helicopter, one that would be able to land in the backcountry. I finally reached the lip of the backcountry kicker built by my backcountry friends and decided to huck my body into the air. As I flew head over heels through the smooth backcountry air, I realized that this was truly the place to be - in the backcountry.
Sparknotes. The backcountry.