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When I think of home, I think of a sacred place that ignites all of my senses. I think of the emerald green waters of the Youghiogheny river and how it smells like winter, getting clearer in color and sweeter in smell as the seasons change and the weather becomes warmer. I think of the crunchy sound my feet make as they quickly hit the ground, running all through the Laurel Highlands. I think of a fresh layer of snow on an exceptionally cold evening, each frozen flake sparkles under the moonlight, like microscopic diamonds blanketing everything in sight. When I think of where my heart is, I always think of Ohiopyle.
"In a recent conversation I was trying to tell a friend about White Grass and describe the kind of skiing I do there (climbing and turning, in the woods, between the trees, in the drift line, up and down all day, in groups large and small). It struck, me as it often does in these kind of discussions, that there is no good descriptor - it’s not cross-country, not backcountry, not telemark, not Nordic as these all conjure something slightly different from my experience. Maybe it’s something that only happens at White Grass. Maybe I’m the only one who feels the English language falls short here? Anyone have an apt set of words?" - Clare Anderson
While some of the photos on this page were taken by local photographers ( Gabe Dewitt, Colleen O'Neil, Mackenzie Hatcher), the majority were taken by professional lifestyle photographer David Aaron Troy.
"The style is unkempt, it's real driven by the moment illustrating emotion and character."
To find out more, or view his portfolio, click the link below