BUMPS AND BOURBON
“Clunk, clunk, clunk,” go my boots as I shuffle through the base lodge on the Mary Jane side of Winter Park Resort. It’s only 8:45 a.m. and I am pleased with myself for being on time for day two of Bob’s Mogul Camp. I’m even more delighted that I’ve made it here at all, considering the amount of bourbon I consumed last night.
It’s a Colorado bluebird day in early March, the kind where you’ll find yourself unzipping your vents on the way from your car to the ski rack, let alone waddling through a heated building. I make it to the small conference room
