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| Photograph courtesy of Morgan Hall |
When Jarem Frye pushes off the chair lift and
glides down a black-diamond slope, you can tell he’s good. His
knees bend rhythmically under a powerful set of quads in the
unmistakable two-step of an expert telemark skier. He’s measured
and smooth, carving sprayless white tracks, bombing toward a ski
jump below. He launches off it, cuts the air with a high backflip,
lands in an explosion of powder, and disappears downhill. When you
catch him at the bottom of the slope, he’s taking a break. He pulls
up the left cuff of his ski pants and twists off his left leg,
dropping his boot, titanium calf, and self-invented left knee on
the hardpack with a thunk. He looks up and grins.
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