The sun is not up yet in Afton, Wyoming, and the last I checked, the temperature was reading 10 degrees. Fahrenheit. I pull on two layers of long underwear, ski pants, turtleneck, a wool sweater, two pairs of socks and the Sorel boots and huge down parka-remnants from my old Minnesota days-that I dragged out of deep storage for this trip.
“This had better be an awful lot of fun, to make all this worthwhile,” I think as I drive down the snowbank-lined road to the airport.
