Berthoud Pass is famous for bringing out the early-season kooks and on first sight I knew I needed to hear this dude's story, so I stopped him and pointed at the velvet robe and asked if he skied today. He said he hadn't.

“I love skiing, but not today. Doing a little thing, a project.”

He refused to divulge more, only that it was, “underground.” Which I already assumed.

As we talked, Marco peered keenly at the skis in the bed of my truck.

“You came from over there,” he said, gesturing across the highway to the faraway slopes of the West side.

“I can tell by the consistency of the snow stuck to your bindings. That’s powder, not like the stuff over here.”

“You’re a skier,” I acknowledged.

Then Marco shook my hand and told me to, "keep fighting the good fight."

I said I would, but after thinking it over now I'm not so sure.