It's like RAAAIIIIIINNNN on your skiing day

I recently summited my second 11,000 ft peak and managed a clumsy ski descent. The forecast showed a 70% chance of rain, but that seemed like a pathetic and un-manly reason to stay in so we went for it anyway. We drove up the canyon in heavy rain which miraculously cleared about the time we got to the parking lot. By this time we were high enough to be in the clouds, and were treated to this stunning view while skinning up:

Now, climbing mountains is a serious endeavor, particularly when there is snow on the ground, and to some extent requires specialized gear as well as a certain amount of preparedness. Imagine my confusion then when near the summit we were passed by a blond-haired, blue-eyed German man carrying no gear and dressed in black slacks, black suspenders, a dress shirt, a black beret, and a ¾ length black trench coat. Seriously. After a brief stay on the summit, he wandered off into the fog. I tried to get a picture of him, but he didn't show up on camera, confirming my earlier suspicion that he was a ghost. Or it was foggy. Whatever.

Anyway, upon arrival to the summit I pulled out my camera and snapped a shot of the grand vista laid out before us:

And of course we needed incontrovertible proof that we had actually been on the summit, so:

After a quick break on the summit, it was time for a clumsy ski down the same route after determining the chute we wanted to shoot didn't have enough snow. The snow was heavy, soft and hard to ski up top. The poor bond between new and old snow only exacerbated the situation. Of course, it is the middle of June so I suppose I shouldn't be complaining. Lower down the snow got a lot better and was more fun until it started pouring rain mixed with little pieces of graupel. We hurried to the truck and made a hasty retreat to the Great Salt Lake Valley where the sun once again graced me with its presence.