I made it to the whiskey before I made it to the slopes, getting a local taste my first night of 10th Mountain Whiskey. At the bartender’s suggestion, I went for the rye. Mountain air and a little whiskey hit the spot. Emphasis on little because altitude and drinking can really do a number on you…so I hear. I won’t be skiing with a flask today, but every time I fall in the snow, I like to imagine a fluffy St. Bernard bounding over the snow with a barrel around his neck to warm me up.
A little dram of 10th Mountain Whiskey? He might bark. Or say, because the likelihood of this happening is roughly the likelihood of a dog talking. And I will nod and smile and think how friendly Colorado can be.