Yesterday it became very apparent to me, just how lucky I am.
I started at the Summit of Snoqualmie when I was 4.
My dad then moved us down the street to Alpental when the basics were established.
Earlier this week, I received a text from my dads buddy Craig.
I have skied with Craig since before I can remember, well sort of.
These guys are coming up on 70 in a few years.
Ive been wanting what they have my whole life.
A group of rad dudes that crack jokes and snake lines.
That dont get mad, but laugh.
Obviously, theyve had their ups and downs.
Theyve gossiped on one another, offended with poorly timed jokes, even lost money by doing business together.
Its complicated, but on the mountain, theyre brothers.
I watched them closely.
They have inspired so much of my life.
So much of what I want and who I want to be.
You cant keep a group of 50-year-old ski junkies waiting when youre 8.
Naturally, those things came.
But the importance of those things fell away.
It was out of insecurity, that I felt the need to compete with these old men.
They were my teachers, but I wanted to be as good as they, better even.
I wanted to be respected and revered.
It wasnt every ski day.
Thats who I learned with.
That was my mountain family.
That feeling of belonging, was special.
I felt like me and my family were skiers.
I felt it differentiated us from a normal boring family.
WE liked speed, WE liked being cold, WE dedicated hours of driving to be where WE belonged.
My dad has always been an independent guy.
He does what he wants, and seems to like the peace of being alone.
A group of dudes who ski.
Recently, he moved down to Portland to be with his girlfriend (not surprising).
Its a neutralizer, and a damn good one at that.
Casual, simple, inviting.
Craig, sent my dad that same text.
I wanted to give him a heads up, I texted Craig, “lots of elk”.
A simple OK emoji was his response.
These are silly things, but they made me feel like a friend rather than my dad’s kid.
After a couple texts and meeting in our long-time spot in the lodge, it was on.
Craig, Scott (another of the old dogs) and myself set out.
The snow softened throughout the day, the conversations picked up, the laps were fun, really fun.
He did not, but ironically, I had mine to both of their surprise and elation.
Another moment of that feeling of belonging.
We spoke as friends, sharing our personal lives and plans, our work and our families.
It was truly a great day.
Craig was wrong, in a sense, it was not the best spring day ever at Crystal.
It mushed by 12:30, and that was perfect.
We sat with beers, chatted some more and called it.
A true pleasure I’ll remember forever.
After I unpacked at home I received one more text from Craig, “Great day today.
Conversations were a highlight”.
I felt the same.
With all the debate over what ski culture is/should be.
I have been enlightened.
These dudes at 65/67 wear what they think looks good, which is the same gear for 20+ years.
They like stiff fast skis.
They beer at 10.
They sit in the sun and laugh and smile.
That is ski culture.
Because skiing IS special.
I don’t appreciate many of the changes I have been seeing in the ski world.
Many of them scare me.
I fear I am losing something that once defined me.
I wanted to protect it and decide who is “real” and who just bought an Ikon.
I thought WE were skiers.
But we’re all skiers.
It’s about the pleasure, the comradery, that sweet sweet feeling we chase.
Craig dreams of carving corduroy on a bluebird day in Sun Valley.
And I think he might be right.
