Colorado w/ the fam

Back in March, my parents got, what seems to have been their wish for the past 10 years, all their kids together for a family ski trip.

From left to right: Heather, Me, Mom, Dad, Adam, Audrey, Nora

Well, they almost got it. We were minus one essential person without Lance-a-roo.

And I learned just how difficult it is to be part of planning a trip that involves at least four different couples' schedules and time-off needs. There was a circus of emails at one point just trying to find if everyone was able to go at the same time. Nonetheless, we converged on Breckonridge, CO during spring break in March.

For some reason (we're still trying to figure out why) Heather and I left Alaska (the place with record breaking snow fall) and travelled to Colorado (the place with almost record breaking lack of snow fall). This entire winter, Heather and I have been spoiled with deep fresh powder almost every day we went skiing in Alaska.

For instance, I'll interrupt with this brief story about all the snow we've had. One day I was skiing the North Face (longest double black diamond accessible by lift in N. America), and having a good ol' time. But the clouds were very grey and overcast. The light was very flat and it was difficult to see the terrain in front of me. On a more flattish area, I was cruisin' at medium speed when suddenly (!) the ground from underneath my skis fell away! I started to yell, "Oh shi" when Kupluff! I didn't have time to finish my cuss word before I pancaked into the vertical side-wall of the huge trench. Like the wily cayote, I was arms-out, still-standing, face-first, smack into a wall of snow! Stopped, dead in my tracks. I never saw it coming.

My trench! I went back and found it and photographed it. Behind you can see the meanest portion of the North Face. It's hard to tell the dimensions of the trench, but standing in the center bottom, both side walls were over my 6'3" head. 

But the point of this story is that there was over a foot of fresh soft snow that day. My impact, though it knocked the wind and scared the be-geezus out of me, was considerably soft. Had I hit anything else at that speed (tree, person, slow-sign) I would've no doubt been injured. But, in my trench, after checking my face for blood, I came out unscathed and laughing. And that folks is how much snow we had last winter.

Not so in Colorado. In the end, we had a great time. We found the good patches of snow during the day and played lots of games in the evenings. I got to laugh at my sister's obsession with Dominion (which I started), and we all laughed the entire time during a painfully long game of Quelf.

My brother is doing his best impression of Jayne Cobb, while in Canton. You know "....the man they call Jayne."

Every day, the weather was beautifully clear and hot. Mostly it was around 50 degrees in the day. This meant skiing open jacket and risking sunburn--the real reason my brother and Nora (his pseudo wife) are so covered.

My sister, celebrating and showing off her massive guns. Though I'm not sure what she's celebrating, cause she's about to go down a really steep sheet of ice. 

There's a small momentous occasion worth note from this trip. After this trip, I feel I can say I have surpassed by father in skiing ability. This isn't bragging for me, but rather a recognition of sorts. Really, one might say that it's about time a twenty-something was better than a fifty-something at such a physically taxing sport. But, growing up, dad was always the best skier. He has a very smooth form and could always ski any run on the mountain he wanted to. It took me two seasons of regular skiing in Alaska and a few pointers from a ski instructor to take the mantle. Not bad, dad. Not bad at all. I hope I'm in my fifties before my kids get better than me. That's no small feet.

A view of Breckonridge Ski Area from Keystone

Lastly, here's a video of me killing a mogul field.