THE HITCHER: Thumbing it across the heart of Colorado to uncover the depths of ski culture
After eating breakfast at the Leadville Hostel, I walked to the edge of town with my skis hoping for a ride to Ski Cooper. After going into the Safeway to buy tape to bandage my bleeding, overworked fingers, I got picked up by Ryan, a Cleveland transplant who'd recently moved to Leadville. He'd spent the last year traveling around Europe, hitching and traveling by train. "Thanks for stopping," I said. "No problem," he replied as he helped me put my skis and pack in his truck bed. "I know how it is." After taking the wrong highway, we got stuck trying to turn around in a snow bank. "That's your payment for the ride," he said with a laugh, as I heaved against the revving, immobile vehicle.
