Mountain: Conquered!

A few weeks ago I went to Tahoe with church. While we were there, Ellen dreamed up a plan for her and I to head back, with our sisters in tow. Fortunately, err, well actually, unfortunately, we had planned to see Paul Washer preach this weekend, but the conference sold out. Cindy had the time off work - so we decided to use it to our advantage.

So Friday morning Laura, Ellen, Cindy and I hopped into Hippo (Ellen's Murano) and headed North. To Northstar.

Yes. The car was that full. And we were going for less than 48 hours.

It probably didn't help that we hit up the outlets before we even got halfway. 

Hippo had a lot of junk in the trunk.

We decided to HighLife it, and stayed at the Northstar Village.

That way, we could park. And never leave.

Not a bad plan.

Once we unloaded our stuff. We decided to take a walk around the Village. 

And you know. 

Shop more.

It was HOT.

And practically deserted.

I guess that is the perk of spring skiing.

After deciding to let our Visa cards take a little breather, we headed back to the room, where we geeked out a bit.

Mac Party!

And then glammed up a bit for dinner.

We called it an early night.
And were up early the next morning ready to hit the slopes.
Cindy, Ellen and I arranged to take a lesson.
Let me make a side note here on my history with snow.

We have a very, very, very bad past.
It didn't all start bad.
When I was a kid, I'd ski with my dad. Some years I took lessons.
I had that kid thing, no fear.
But then one winter, I was 13, and too old for the kiddie lessons.
So I took one with grown ups.
And I had lost the fearlessness.
I hated it.
I ended up leaving the lesson early, in tears.
And took the chair lift DOWN.
Yes. You can do that.
Traumatic.

About 7 years ago, I decided it was time to give snow another chance.
This time headed to the slopes with a handful of VERY encouraging friends.
And a very low key mountain.
So much powder.
We had to push our car out of the snow before we even left for the day.
The altitude killed me.
And I was practically done before I started.
I rented my skis.
Bought a lift ticket.
Did one run.
Fell.
Couldn't get up.
Got help.
And I think did another half of a run.
And was completely discouraged.
I chalked it up to my athletic rejecticism.
(More stories, for another time).
I sat in the lodge drinking hot cocoa the rest of the day.
Very unhappy.
Again, traumatic.

Both times I vowed never to touch a ski again.
But here I am.
Ready to conquer the mountain.

And with awesome friends along for the ride as well.
We took the Gondola up to the mountain, and figured out our clothing situation.
It was SUPER hot. Hats and headbands were ditched.
And so was one jacket layer.

We started out our lesson with the 79 year old Bob.
Yes.
79.
He taught us the tricks.
Look up.
Pizza Wedge.
Look up.
Weight on your toes.
Look up.
And then we headed to the lifts.
Despite my co-chairlift-rider's best attempt to take me down, I didn't fall.
Woo.

Eventually I made it down the hill mountain in one piece, and without having fallen.
By this time it was lunch, and Laura joined us with her board.
And Cindy said her goodbyes.
And we headed back up the lift for some more runs.
A lot more.

They were all on the bunny slopes green circles,
and by the end of the day I'm pretty sure I reached rock star skiier status.

We skied by the Ritz Carlton a lot during the end of the day.
And decided next time we'd definitely be staying there.
Well.
If we get those Northface sponsorships for the X-Games.

But, honestly, it was a great day. And a great trip.
I am still in shock that I had a non-traumatic skiing experience.

Northstar, I'll be back.
And I'll be sure to wear a bit more sunscreen next time.

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