Multi-sport days are the best part of shoulder season in the Wasatch. Pick your flavor: ski and bike, ski and climb, bike and climb, bike and lake day. It goes on and on. The only downside, for me, is that I get so hungry it borders on a personality flaw. I have a whole bench in my garage dedicated to the snacks I stuff my pockets with on days like these, and they still only get me so far, figuratively and literally. On the big ones I lean on our Wasatch Bowl as my midday refuel. It tastes amazing, and the extra punch from all that farro keeps me from bonking or going full hangry later in the day.

There's a specific kind of happiness in loading up the rig on a Friday and pointing it at dirt. Tent, cooler, chairs, the dog, and no real plan beyond finding a good spot before dark. The one thing camp weekends always seem to get wrong is the food. Two days of granola bars, gas-station jerky, and whatever survives a cooler full of melted ice, and by Sunday you feel like garbage. It doesn't have to be that way. Grab a couple of Trailhead Bowls before you leave town. They travel well, they hold up in the cooler, and they taste like an actual meal while everyone else at the campsite is sawing into a cold hot dog. Good food makes a good weekend better. Pack accordingly.

The post ski, post ride, post climb stretch: a time to unwind, shake out the legs and arms, recharge, and relive the type 1 (often type 2) fun you just had. The meal and the hang afterward might be my favorite part of the whole day. Yes, the hero dirt was incredible. Yes, Kevin almost hit a tree and it was hilarious, and we're glad he's okay. But mostly we're just happy to stick around a little longer, talking it over with good food in front of us and maybe a cheeky pint. Not to always make it about the food, but the Beartooth hits especially well in moments like these. The pepperoncini vinaigrette is the best thing on the menu, and I will not be taking questions. It also gives me a reason to keep making chickpea jokes.