Three pairs of skis ready to rip
Barkernews and I harbor a very vibrant dream of living in a mountain town. We don't really care about the size or the quality of the house, nor do we care about living in a desired zip code. We just want to be 15 minutes or less from the ski lifts. Ideally, we would be able to take public transit or walk. Ideally, it would also snow in this mountain town with great regularity and hardly ever rain. Ideally...well, it's our dream and we're sticking to it.
Why do I bring this up? Sometime on our 4th trip on Highway 26 in two days, I sighed and again lamented how much damn time we spend on that highway riddled with stoplights and 45mph speed limits instead of already being home, cooking up some chili and sitting in front of a fire. Every winter, we contemplate a combination of season rental, cabin purchase, trailer retrofit, hostel rental, and couch surfing to make our trips to Mt. Hood slightly less onerous. But rarely do the numbers play out (especially purchasing a vacation home in a mountain town where it frequently RAINS during the winter. No thanks.). And while I feel a special affinity for Mt. Hood (as I should, given the 40+ days I spend on that mountain per year), my heart lies in a real mountain town: Durango or Breckenridge or Bend or Taos. One where the sun shines, the snow is light and the mountains are big. So I can never bring myself to put a large chunk of my paycheck towards a cabin in Government Camp.
It makes no sense, I know. I am not moving from Portland anytime soon, which means I will continue spending a ridiculous amount of days on Hood and a ridiculous amount of money on gas. But, really, I am just waiting for the right opportunity to pop up in Winter Park or Park City or Tahoe.
I might be waiting awhile.
Luckily, I am prepared for a long wait. Mt. Hood offers everything this family of 3(!) skiers currently needs: several ski areas to choose from, a magic carpet to learn on, affordable season passes, and yes, even some pretty rad black diamond terrain.
This weekend, we embarked on our journey as a skiing family instead of just a skiing couple. At the ripe old age of 2 years and 4 months, Hazel made her first trip up the bunny hill, via the magic carpet, which strategically went through a tunnel. Side note: A magic carpet through a tunnel? BRILLIANT. No toddler can turn that opportunity down. Anyway, I may or may not have shed a small tear as Hazel and I skied down the hill together. Barkernews and I, we love to ski. It's a vital part of our lives. So to have Hazel finally do it with us, albeit slowly and very well supported...well, I just hope it's only the beginning of a long and illustrious career as a skiing family.
On Sunday, we made the trip back to the mountain, this time to ski patrol, and Hazel hit the slopes again. She asked all day, "Can I ski?" and we finally let her, cold temps and wind be damned. She immediately wanted to do it "by myself". I may or may not have cried for the second time in two days. This is kid is Olympic material, I am sure of it.
There is only one thing that would have made me even happier: pulling Hazel in her sled 15 minutes to the ski lift from the front door of our house.
One day, my dear daughter, one day.
