Incommunicado no more

One week of vacation, a week of pre-travel prep, and post-recovery spells a long stretch of blog silence.

My last entry: March 14? Yowza!

I wish I could say that we retreated to an off-the-grid locale (does such a thing exist?). But that’s not true.

And I’ll spare you the lame excuses; my vow of silence is lifted.

We spent a week skiing in Park City, Utah — the whole fam-damily, including my mom, and my cousins, Marianne and Mike.

I won’t gush too much.

It was an awesome trip.

Deer Valley Mt

 

 

Martin is an irritatingly-good skier. He has almost no experience but he’s a natural.

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Cayden and Hadley hit the slopes as well. With ski school, they quickly graduated from bunny runs to double-blues. Each day, Martin and I met them after class, and skied some more.

Both kids were fearless and thrill-seeking — they loved the woods. But they were also fast… and utterly oblivious to signage. When Martin and I skied behind them, they’d zip past trail markers, often committing to steep or mogul-pocked runs. And when Martin and I led the way, the kids would silently veer off, disappearing on unchartered trails.

Fortunately, we found them. Most of the time.

Once, we called ski patrol.

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Kid-free for much of the day, Martin and I explored the mountain. On day two, we learned that one slope led directly into downtown. So we quickly ditched the mid-mountain lunch mob, and followed the lowest runs.

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Crossing the snow-packed bridge, we joined the scant number of skiers who ventured to town midday. After that, we were regulars.

Bridge cafe

 

 

At our prime lunch spot, Martin stumbled on a brew that reminded him of Blackie…

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…Although too many Babas upped Martin’s fall rate, and our kid-losing odds…

 

So there you go, a week in summary: Snow, skis and beer.

More details to follow….

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