Friday, May 11, 2012

Crazy Ski Bum-ness is Hereditary

Due to some real world commitments (like a job & family) my dad has been unable to ski for like almost an entire month! This has been absolute torture for him. He missed the Great April Dump, lots of beautiful days basking in the sunshine while riding the Superstar Quad and several trips hiking up to the top of Skye with Coopie. So, of course, when he finally has two consecutive days off in a row and is able to make it up to rains :(

But does that stop my dad?


After working from home all day and watching the rain pitter patter on the windows, we finally gave up waiting for a lull and decided to get our butts out there.
We were not going to be deterred from earning our turns just because of a little bit of really cold and miserable looking rain. We have plenty of high quality rain gear - a Vermont lifestyle requirement - so there were no excuses as we started up the mountain.

For some stupid reason I could not find my spring ski gloves. I must have some black spring glove curse because I have purchased more than several pairs from varying companies over the years (this latest being from Mountain Hardwear) and have misplaced every single pair. The pair before these - from Dakine - I left on the roof of our car as we drove away from Pinkham Notch after skiing Tuckerman Ravine. Sooo frustrating. But what's worse is that I have managed to never lose this pretty hideous pair of white leather gloves from Rossignol's early 1990s spring collection. Sigh. Maybe like my hot pink gaitors they will come back into style one day.
I digress.
Oh - but my point was that my hands were absolutely freezing the entire time.
I was losing dexterity so fast I could barely hold my ski poles!!

Hiking this time of year in Killington is usually very exciting. The rain brings exciting new growth to the fields and forests just about every day. This past few days meant that trillium have begun to open, ramps are plentiful and those little yellow ones whose name I can't remember begin to stand strong. But I saw a new plant today that I had only just noticed, a simple low lying little guy that just happened to be the resting place for one lonely droplet of rain. Love it!

Anyways, back to my dad being awesome.
When we reached the snowline, we posed for our obligitory family portrait, although this year would celebrate a new family member while simultaneously mourning the loss of the old. But, like my Great Uncle Jerry passed down skiing to my father before me, now we pass on the family tradition to Coopie - and there is no doubt about how much he has already come to look forward to our times on snow together, racing down the mountain.

So we dutifully pose for our group shot...
pause for a while to cherish the view and sit with our butts in the snow while we snuggle with our puppies...

and then it is time to ski!
With a deep breath and a growing grin, we take off down the trail, ever conscious of where tiny paws are relative to our sharp metal edges.
Dad and dog
Daughter and dog
We Ski
A Ski Family

Yeah, my old man can rip!

May You Find the Spirit of the Mountains With You,
Merisa & Vespi

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