First, let me say that I adore my son Liam. He is 14 — and everything that goes along with being 14 — but for the most part he is a terrific kid. Late Saturday night he returned home from an exhausting (emphasis mine) spring break week in Palm Springs with his good buddy. They spent the week wakeboarding, fishing and hiking. I’m in grad school and had a different spring break than my kids this year so Liam went off with another family and the rest of us had a stay-cation.
Since yesterday was the last day for us to ski at Mt. Rose I insisted (again, emphasis mine) that he come along on a family ski day. His friend, H, wanted to come with us so off we went for a beautiful day of slushy spring skiing. The boys did one obligatory run with Liam’s sisters, Rob and me…and then they begged us to let them go ski on their own.
I have to admit I had mixed feelings about this because I knew where they were headed: The Chutes. This terrain at Mt. Rose is insanely steep — 45-degree pitches — and strewn with all sorts of obstacles. When the conditions are good, the runs are amazing but for the most part I avoid the area unless there is a ton of new snow.
Since we’d had some snow on Thursday and Friday I knew it wouldn’t be too icy, so off they went. Liam raced for 5 years and is a beautiful, technical skier. H is even better. The boys are both significantly better skier than I have ever been but…did I mention they are 14?
Anyway, off they went with instructions to not doing anything stupid and to meet us for lunch 90 minutes later. Exactly 90 minutes later this is what they looked like when they found us on the sun deck.
Apparently the snow was amazing. It was the best snow of the whole season. The powder is at least a foot deep. It’s like winter in there. Got it.
When they couldn’t convince me to go back to the Chutes with them after lunch they graciously agreed to take a few “granny” runs with me. Granny runs?! And then they were gone again. Have I created a monster or what?