Yodel

Dude Soup

I love the periphery of skiing. Don’t get me wrong, I’d dance-fight Kevin Bacon for the emotional gooey heart of deep powder turns. But so much of what I love about skiing has nothing to do with turning—the goofy jokes, slopeside coffee, back bumper story time, the hum of a packed ski bar. The well of beloved ski adjacencies has no bottom. But it wasn’t until I kerplunked myself into a hot tub that I realized the thing I love most about skiing is dude soup.

Dude Soup /dod/ /sop/
noun

an all-men slopeside hot tub occupied with conversing best
buddies which leads to a deep sense of nostalgia.

Months prior to bathing with my two best pals, RD and ScottyP, we decided to celebrate our nearing 40th birthdays with a ski trip. We picked Alta, UT, for a few reasons. RD and ScottyP had never been, whereas I’ve wiggled there numerous times, guided by my wife, the daughter of two former Alta ski patrollers. Saying yes to another trip to Alta is as easy a reply as, “Would you like chocolate cake for dinner?” Plus, Alta was coming off the deepest winter on record—903 inches. For three dudes tiptoeing 4-Uh-Oh!, Alta served as the symbol of aging gracefully while still kicking total ass.


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