Well... here’s the story....
We drove up to the house last night in the rain. It was snowing when we woke up this morning. With all that precipitation, the river next to our house had swelled and the bridge to Gore was washed out. To get there, we had to drive about half an hour out of the way. We arrived 15 minutes before ski school started only to find the lock of our roof rack had iced shut. So we raced into town and bought de-icing fluid and were back at the mountain in 30 minutes. But by that time the inner lots were all full, so we parked in Siberia. It was bitterly cold and windy, and somehow my husband left me and my kids in the dust on the way to the lodge. My 9 year old stopped dead in his tracks. The only way I could get my kids to the lodge was by pretending we were explorers scaling Mt. Everest. While carrying three pairs of skis and a pair of poles.
Miraculously, they were able to take my kids into a ski group even though it was almost lunch time. My husband and I got them settled and then headed to the main lodge, but we accidentally separated along the way. There was zero cell service and we couldn’t find each other all day, right until pick up from ski school at 3:30. We later figured out we had missed each other by feet and minutes all day long.
The conditions were insane. Sheets of ice the entire width of the trail, bare patches and, oddly, pools of slushy snow. Only four lifts open, counting the magic carpet and one lift on the far side of the mountain. Long lift lines. The weather was so cold and windy my gaiter froze to my cheek on the quad.
It took us an hour and a half to get back home at the end of the day because both main roads in and out were closed due to floodwaters, and for a minute we thought we might not be able to get there at all.
But.....but! I skied by myself all day, at my own pace, in my own time. I had lunch when I wanted to, warmed up exactly as much as I needed, and stopped on the hills to survey the terrain to my liking. My recently-stretched boots were comfortable, and my new socks and boot gloves kept my toes warm for the first time in basically forever. I practiced carving in the morning and moguls in the afternoon as the trails began to bump up. And finally, finally, finally, I made friends with the ice. I trusted my equipment and my technique, and just went for it. I found it to be harder work but totally skiable. It was exhilarating.
At the end of the day, my husband and I found each other at ski school pick up. He - a true beginner - told me he had had an awesome day. His only complaint was that the runs off the easy lift were too short. He’s finally truly ready for the top of the mountain, a real milestone. My nine year old told me he graduated to poles and my seven year old told me he skied his first blues. My nine year old had to do on more run with me, and we had the honor of being the last on the lift. And when I asked my kids to rate the day, they gave it a 10 out of 10.
And you know what? So did I.