Between Christmas and New Year, there’s that strange seven-day period where you’re not sure what day it is, you’re still eating more than you can really justify but all motivation to exercise has been wiped out and you’re slowly turning into a sloth. (Just me?) Perfect opportunity to go skiing. For the first year in several, Tahoe had good snow over the Christmas period, so on Boxing Day we joined half the population of the Bay Area and drove up. It took pretty much all day but eventually we got to Tahoe Vista and checked into our little hotel. The cold took our breath away but the room had a fire and the lake looked amazing.
I’ve talked before about my relationship with skiing. ‘Love-Hate’ is an understatement. This is the summary of it.
Things I love about skiing.
- Being in the mountains!
- Ski shops and buying ski gear.
- Eating all the cheese, potatoes and cake.
- Lazy lunches en piste with mulled wine and carbonara.
- Chalets. Alpine things. Doorbells and sleighbells and schnitzel with noodles.
- The sense of achievement when you look back up a slope and think ‘Wow, I skied that’.
Things I hate about skiing.
We had four days of skiing. The first day was an utter disaster. The Dude wasn’t in ski-school so we spent the day on the nursery slopes whilst our kid, who had expected to cruise effortlessly down anything we pointed him at, was struck with fear, unable to control his feet and had turned into a repulsive ski-brat. (No judgement, I often turn into a ski-brat as well). I was paralyzed with fear, dashing to the bathroom every half hour. The Husband was VERY patient with us both, but the day was so grim that I emailed my girls that evening and told them that my mammogram had been more pleasurable than skiing. I meant it.
The next day was much better. The Dude got into ski school so the Husband and I had the whole day to ski. Apart from one strop thrown first thing when the Husband tried to make me ski something blue I wasn’t ready for, we had a remarkably nice day. We spent it high up the mountain on gentle slopes where we cruised up and down, stopping for hot chocolate. We had such a nice day, I was so surprised…and the Dude had an amazing time at ski school.
The following day was almost magical. The Dude spent the day skiing with us. I’d been unsure about this because he does still need many hours in ski school and the first hour was grim for all of us. But suddenly, it was like my little man flicked a switch and he just pointed his skis down the hill and slid slowly down. Over the course of the day, as we played on easy, (VERY) easy slopes in the most incredible snow I’ve ever skied in, we just had so much fun together. This was my best day skiing since I broke my leg.
The final day, we skied together again. The Dude wanted to ski down the mountain from the top. The slopes were blues, he’d only skied greens, but we knew they were fairly easy runs so we gave it a shot. Our little man skied steadily, in snow-plough, the whole way down, singing ‘Santa Claus is coming to town’ whenever he felt nervous. He repeated that feat two further times. Honestly, my chest was bursting with pride.
I’d been planning to have a snowboarding lesson during this stay – I’ve meant to try it for ages and was hoping to give it a shot. But somehow I found myself having too much fun on skis, not a sentence I’d EVER thought I’d write. But I did. It was a great trip full of fresh mountain air, grilled cheese sarnies, hot chocolate and my favourite boys. I’m super-grateful we got to do it.I’m even looking forward to skiing again in this Winter! Wonders will never cease.