Alpine Meadows

Before December 2005, the closest we’d been to Alpine was the top of KT-22. My eight-year-old daughter had been skiing blacks, and my five-year-old twins blues, during the 12 or so days we’d spent at Squaw the season before, and we knew we were ready to commit to spending more time in the mountains. So we put the kids on team and bought passes.

Opening Saturday, we pick up our passes and the three kids and I take our first ride up Roundhouse. No sooner than we get to the top than one of the twins freaks out. Complete meltdown. It takes 45 minutes for me to convince him to stand up and download to the base. We retreat and plan to come back the following day.

Unfortunately, Sunday starts out as a repeat of Saturday, just on Kangaroo this time. He refuses to even stand up at the top. I’m watching our seasonal investment evaporate before my eyes. Somehow, the 11-year-old who shares our ski lease convinces him to try something, and it clicks. At the bottom, all he wants to do is get back on the lift.

Fast forward to April. It’s time for the twins’ and my last weekend of the season. We’ve had 450″ of snow in the past eight weeks. And the kids have blossomed. The eldest is skiing everything on the hill, and the twins are not far behind. We spend the day lapping Sherwood, mainly off piste between Sherwood Run and Powerline. I stop long enough to snap a couple of pictures with the Lake in the background.

That fall, as I’m driving them to school back home on the Peninsula, it starts to rain — really rain — for the first time in months. The car erupts into cheers. They empty out of the car laughing and grinning. Their friends, annoyed at the change in weather, ask them why they’re so happy.

They respond: “Because when it’s raining here, it’s snowing at Alpine Meadows.”

I AM a proud father.

Submitted By: Josh

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