I traveled recently, by air, to Vail.

Now before you self-styled environmentalists throw a fit, know this: I offset all my travel by trading for credits at Gladropes, my local hemp crafts store and carbon exchange. I found a nice gentleman whom for some reason wanted all my old underwear in exchange for 5,000 gallons of effluence for my personal methane-capture still.

Though I had to breathe into a paper bag to keep from hyperventilating every time I looked out at the plane’s fuel-guzzling engines, I did enjoy the flight. I can’t say the same for my neighbor, who kept gagging and running to the bathroom. The poor fellow was so embarrassed that he made up some story about being allergic to patchouli.

Once I arrived, I made a concerted effort to look like a Vail skier. I wore carefully constructed fake fur boots and a hemp parka, with big sunglasses and an air of superiority that, oddly enough, came very naturally to me.

Of course, I wasn’t there to ski; I was there to gauge the health of the lynx population and visit a personal shrine: The burned-down-by-ecoterrorists-but-then-reconstructed-with-even-more-wood-than-before Two Elk Lodge.

The first Two Elk was burned by the brave soldiers of the Environmental Liberty Foundation or the Encouragement of Lynx Freedom or the Eschewing of Lousy Food; I can’t remember. I could Google it, but that takes carbon. In any case, it was burned down to protest the planned expansion of Vail into prime lynx habitat. No matter that a lynx hadn’t been seen in Colorado since 1973; the ELF knew one might wander into town someday and courageously burned a lot of wood to give it a warm welcome.

To visit the restaurant and lynx habitat, I had to ski, which is difficult and conspicuous in hemp. The bitter cold forced me to wear a hat made of wool. Thoughts of the denuding and oppression of sheep made me so upset that I stayed quite warm all day.

Vail is entirely wind-powered, which makes me sick when I think of all the co-ops and naturopathic medical clinics that could use that energy. I made my disapproval clear to all who rode the chairlift with me by constantly rolling my eyes and clucking. I could sense solidarity in the ones who didn’t quickly ski away from me once we reached the top.

I felt I should canvass the entire ski area in my search for lynx, so I tackled the back bowls and some awesome tree runs in an effort to be thorough. But I promise I didn’t enjoy it.

I also didn’t find any lynx. However, I am now satisfied that if one shows up, it will feel welcome. Until it’s caught and skinned for a Bogner parka.