Writing About Snow

I spend most winter weekends in the mountains skiing with my family. It’s so easy to jump into the car and drive the 90 or so minutes from sea level, with its mist and gray skies, to high elevations where we often emerge above the clouds into sunlight and blue skies. It is such a dramatic experience riding up a chairlife through the fog and then up and out into sudden clarity. I don’t think I’ll ever fail to be amazed by it.

I never thought I would do a lot of writing about snow or skiing until last year when a local magazine called OutdoorsNW asked me to blog about the “skiing lifestyle”. Not about extreme skiing or 20-something ski bums, but about doing what I do with my family: packing up, skiing all day, unpacking, over and over again all winter long. Of course, I jumped at the chance. And what came out of it was a series of short essays about skiing; essays that I hope readers can enjoy whether or not they ever put on a pair of ski boots.

I’ve been invited to blog about skiiing again this year and as a run up to my first new post in January, OutdoorsNW is pulling some of my essays from last year from the archives and posting them again. I thought I’d give a quick summary/link to them here every so often, too.

I hope you enjoy them!

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The first essay is called The Beginning.

“….I learned to ski at the ripe old age of 17 in the relatively flat state of Ohio. My best friend, Dave, who had cut his teeth in Michigan and Colorado, was determined that I would learn to ski under his expert tutelage. He schemed and planned, and then called out of the blue to announce he was coming over to my house to pick me up. Dave had something to show me; he’d found me some skis at a garage sale.”

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