Backyard Travels: Snow Business

I’m not a skier. I don’t like cold weather. So, why in the world would I agree to go to Big Bear for a weekend?

The short answer is that my kids like it. Kate seems to have no inner thermometer. It’s as though she lives in a world that is 75 degrees at all times. Extremes don’t bother her one bit. You combine that with her spirit of adventure, and how could I deny her the chance the spend a weekend schussing atop some of the best conditions that the Big Bear resorts have seen in several years?

Both Kate and Jack had both been on skis but we decided to send them into ski school to give them a confidence boost – and to give husband Steve a chance to catch a few runs, too. He looked at me forlornly as he pointed his ski tips toward the lift. “Sure you won’t take a lesson?” he asked me, as snowflakes rested on my eyelashes and I shivered so deep I nearly caused an avalanche.

“Oh, I’m sure,” I managed to stammer.

It’s not as though I haven’t tried. Several years ago I tried to be the “I can keep up with him” kind of spouse, never content to sit in the lodge while the fun was happening outside. I took lessons. And it wasn’t even the 14 times I fell over in the snow and rolled around like bear caught in a barrel. It was the constant wedge (or “pizza,” as the kids call it) that I had to keep my skis in, terrified that I wouldn’t be able to stop myself before crashing into a tree, a slew of happy skiers, the deck where a DJ was spinning tunes and ultimately, the cozy lodge filled with surprised skiers.

And then there’s the gear. Why, in the 200 years that the sport has been developing, hasn’t some brilliant skier from the Swiss Alps designed a ski boot that a) doesn’t cut into the flesh and bone of your shin and b) make you feel like Darth Vader trying to negotiate a metal stairway without the use of The Force?

So this trip, I stood firm. I was determined to enjoy the relative comfort of my own footwear while Steve and the kids tromped around with skis on their backs and really cold ears. And in the process, I forgot how friendly people can be when they’re outside of the Los Angeles environment. Inside the crowded lodge I meekly asked if I could share a table with a Big Bear employee and a skier who’s obviously spent several winters on the slopes at the resort.

“Join us!” came the enthusiastic response, and before long we were all swapping stories about our families and careers. After they left, I found a cozy spot on a futon and curled up with my book. I was soon joined by a friendly skier with a weather-worn face and charming hazel eyes. “Is your guy out on the slopes?”

Before long, we were sharing some Trader Joe’s crackers and I was drifting in and out of my novel, comforted by the hum of the bustling lodge and the sound of the cappuccino machine.

Mid-afternoon, I collected Kate from her lessons, and with her face still flush from the snow whipping into her face, she wolfed down some chili in a bread bowl.

She met up with Steve to try her newly honed skills on the blue (and black, I found out later) runs, and I made my way back over to the kids’ ski school to get Jack. I didn’t see him right away, and worried that he – being a bit more delicate like his mother – had decided the near-blizzard conditions weren’t his cup of tea. But before long, he came whizzing down the hill to the meeting place – but holding his lip out with his gloved hand.

“Uh, oh,” I thought. “A face plant? A run-in with the lift?”

“I lost a tooth!” he lisped, and gingerly pulled out a tiny little Chicklet wrapped in a Kleenex that had been expertly wrapped by his instructor. Fortunately, it had came out on its own accord by means of what Jack called “a mad tongue,” and he immediately began daydreaming about his upcoming date with the Tooth Fairy.

After a quick polar bear dip in the hot tub, the kids snuggled down for the night with visions of past and future runs and jumps in their heads. I stared at the fire and wondered if I could ever conquer “the pizza” or just be content with some Steig Larssen and a latte – at least during those times when such terms as “white out” and “wind chill” are applicable. 

About Big Bear

Now's the time to cash in on discounts at Big Bear and Snow Summit, which combined offer 55 runs, 26 lifts and 438 skiable acres. Check out the Big Bear Mountain Resorts’ Screamin’ Deal Season Pass, where mid-week passes start at $199 for young adults and $249 for adults – and skiers can use it the rest of this season all of next winter at either resort!
 
Find more info at www.bigbearmountainresorts.com (as well as road conditions and routes) or get up-to-the-minute mobile reports by signing up for Big Bear Mountain Resort’s Text Club.