Three hours down, one to go. One quick glance out of the window and I could see that it was snowing, again. It was January 2nd, 2014, of course it was snowing, Michigan weather. The trip to Caberfae Ski Resort used to be a tradition, an annual trip we often took with friends of the family. After my back surgery, things in this department had come to a standstill and this would be our first trip back to Caberfae since then. We were beyond ready to get back on the slopes.
We packed our own lunches for the car ride there; we made no stops on our way to make the journey there quicker than what it would have been if we were to stop for food. It would be just our family this time, just me, Jake, Alex and our parents, even though in the past we had grown accustomed to going with the Weidmans. The long car ride made us all antsy in anticipation for the day that was to come. So when our Mountaineer skid into the resort parking lot we were ecstatic. We unloaded ourselves out of the car, all five of us, wearing our layers upon layers of clement clothing, unable to kinesthetically move as we once were able to do prior to bundling up for the day ahead. We made our way slowly and stiffly to the registration building to get our boots, skis and poles.
Skiing for me is just like riding a bike. Even if you haven’t gone skiing in a while, once you get up there to start again it just comes back to you and its natural and easy.
Not so long after getting our equipment together, we made our journey up the mountain, past the bunny hill, onto the ski lift. My mom and sister stuck to the more achievable, easier hills while my brother, dad and I went to the more adept slopes higher up the mountain.
The ride up on the ski lift is amazing. You get your own tour of the land, the people, and the scenery. It really is something because you know the way things are in that moment, will never be that way again, simply breathtaking. Standing at the top of the hill about to ride down has to be one of my favorites. You’re able to look over everything, the hills, the sky line, the forests below, and its tranquil nature.
One quick push off the ground and you’re going. Gently and strategically you maneuver yourself around the hill and the trees as you make your way down the mountain. Even with the abundance of warm clothes and a thick hat, the unforgiving harsh wind continued to slap me in the face on every ride, but it was worth it. We ate our lunch there in the lodge and from there we were able to warm up and replenish our energy for more exhilarating rides, for more fun.
Nine hours in and I had already lost feeling in my toes on up through my feet. My fingertips were starting to become numb as were both of my cheeks. It was nearing our time of departure and, “Aw come on, just one more ride”, turned into another and another. But then at last, we had reached the tail of our endeavor and our pleas of just one more final ride had worn off and we packed up the car and left. One last look out the window, waving a goodbye as the resort grew farther and farther away, with a smile on my face knowing we would be back again next year.