Vagneur: The family sport of skiing

We had it all mapped out.

My ski partner for the day, Lorrie Winnerman, and I planned on a few laps in the morning and then lunch, a lot to catch up on. She and I went to Aspen High School together and have been hanging around here ever since but haven’t really spent much time together. Early Monday, she called, under the weather, and the day was off.

Now with time to spare, and while making a leisurely breakfast, my daughter called, saying there was a late start at the school, and the kids wanted to make a run or two before. “The kids” she referenced are my grandchildren, six and nine; there was an instantaneous look at the breakfast I’d just made and a quick calculation of whether I could make it in time if I ate in the car. Ha! “I’m on my way!” My dog gave me one of those looks like, “Do you have to ski every day?” and I tossed him a couple of biscuits, telling him he was in charge.

You know how kids are – they grow like weeds, and after rushing through getting my boots on and heading to the gondola, there stood my grandson at the other end of the plaza, decked out in new clothes for the winter. Wow, wouldn’t have recognized him except for the Aspen Ski Club jacket. And then right behind came my granddaughter in a wild parka with some great pants, her mother right behind, and no gondola line. They’d just arrived. It was our day to shine. New skis, boots, new gloves, and a simmering but building level of excitement behind serious smiles.

It was their first day of the season and a chance to get the bugs out of any of the clothes or equipment. Everything seemed fine; couldn’t lose Cash after a few turns to get used to his new, longer skis, and once she made a couple of turns, Charli was right back in the swing of things, making great aggressive turns and keeping up with her mother.

Going up, over Deer Park, Cash was bummed he forgot his parachute; oh no, I forgot to bring the parachutes that my good friend Bill gave me for you guys. Next time, we’ll throw the ‘chutes and then cut over there, pick up our parachutes and go off the big rock. That elicited a smile of agreement. Yes!

As a grandparent, watching my grandkids grow up in the ski culture is from a different perspective than being a parent, at least in my estimation. I am in awe and totally impressed by my daughter’s dedication to getting those kids on the mountain; it takes a lot, and maybe some of it comes from the way she grew up.

From the age of two, I’d ski her all over Snowmass between my legs, and then the next year, she had her own gear and was picking it up fast. Like most kids, after she figured out how the edges work, it was game on. From 3 until 1^st grade, she went to Powder Pandas one or two days a week, weekends with me.

Once in school, I’d load her on the Aspen Ski and Snowboard Club bus every Saturday, headed for Snowmass. I’d follow later, and ski until it was time to pick her up. Then, we’d make a couple of runs together or go home, depending on the mood. The next day, we would be up bright and early, hitting the mountain of our choice, sometimes Aspen Mountain or Highlands, in addition to the other two. Walsh’s was one of her favorites at a young age, right down the gut; and Steeplechase, oh man, run after run down Steeplechase. “How about a cruiser, Lauren?” “OK, Dad, after one more down Steeplechase.”

I love skiing with my grandkids and their mom – all four of us ripping it up – and we seem to have a good system of keeping everyone happy by sometimes splitting up at the top and meeting at the chosen lift at the bottom of the run. Our timing is generally excellent in that regard.

In any case, it’s early, and as I tell folks who try to make excuses for not skiing well enough or fast enough – the degree of skiing ability on any given day is measured by the size of one’s smile.

Have a great winter!

Tony Vagneur writes here on Saturdays and welcomes your comments at ajv@sopris.net.