A poem about ski touring at Falcon’s Nest Hut in the Cass Valley.

"In the hush of dawn where the snow lies deep,

The Cass Valley stirs from its alpine sleep.
With skis on our packs and adventure ahead,

We chase the white dreams where few dare tread."

"Crisp air bites as we climb through the cold,

The mountains around us, silent and bold.

Tracks weave through powder, light as a sigh,
Beneath a wide and wondering sky."

"At the Bad Decision, where legends ignite,
We share a quick dram in the soft afternoon light.
A sip of warmth, then skis hit the snow —
Chasing the fall line to Falcon's below."

"At day’s end we find, where the ridge-lines cut,

A fire softly crackles in our warm, cosy hut.
Laughter and tales by lantern light glow,

While spirits drift outside in a world of white snow."

"So here’s to the Cass, where the winter winds roam,

To ski tracks, steep lines, and a hut that feels home.

In a backcountry world that’s rugged and free —
This is where winter was meant to be."