OK, this happened quite a few years ago, but I always tell the same story when I talk about Lake Tahoe. We were the first ones on top of Northstar that morning, after it had dumped 12" the night before. Looking down Washoe and pure virgin powder, out over frosted pine trees, to the lake below, it seemed like we were in a postcard...this is waaaay to perfect. The tips of our skis poking out from under the snow, and this gutteral (from the depths of my belly) excitement, anticipation, and joy boiled up into a yell of pure extatasy. I push off, and the snow was flaking up over our heads. That incredable champagne powder that I had only heard about, but never experienced was surreal, I was floating with each turn. It only gets better! The next run was down Sugar Pine Glade, just as awesome, but for a different reason. Again, another first for me was tree skiing. Again, all this powder. Halfway down my quads started to ach, but I didn't want to stop. I felt like I was in a Warren Miller film. Trees blurred by, snow as light as a feather, that floating sensation again. Turn to turn, tree to tree I was in Heaven. I Finally reached the bottom, collapsed at my brother's feet crying. He looked down and asked, "what hell was wrong?" I looked up and told him, "I had the best run of my life and if I died right here and now I didn't care". He laughed and smiled and said, "ready for another run?" True story.