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Hundred Days



The Mountain Pulse Jackson Hole, Wyoming

Perched at the top of Four Pines, we studied the valley sprawled before us, drawing imaginary lines on the expanse with our fingers. Whimsical clouds hung in the sky, the day’s gray light pierced only by a sliver of hot pink trimming the eastern horizon. The fruits of the mile and half hike from the tram were immediate as we descended into deep snow.

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