Winter’s gift to men
This column was published in The Times-News probably in 2002 Roads less traveled Christijan Draper Winter’s gift to men I earned my first ice-covered beard over Christmas. I spent much of my youth pouring over climbing and outdoor magazines, seeing pictures of rugged men with full, ice-caked beards. My dad also kept old slides of his climbing excursions with his buddies. I loved looking at their misty breath frozen in the air. I loved the ice caves. The images stirred me: wool balaclavas, crampons, sunglasses, ice axes. But most intriguing and wonderful was the full crust of ice on hairy faces. That was the image of a perfect man. I love winter. I enjoy camping in the snow. I love the crispness you feel when you step out from a warm house into a sub-freezing day. One winter while camping in the White Mountains of northern Arizona, my dad and I hopped on some c ross-country skis and skated into the woods at midnight. The moon was full and glowed against the snow. Th