Skiing, Snowboarding and the Memories of a Childhood in Colorado
Published: 03/24/2011 at Clayton Glasco
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I took my first ski trip around the age of four. I was the youngest of three kids, and we packed up the ride and cruised as a family on a ski trip to Steamboat, Colorado. I’ve got to say, it was awesome! If you’ve never hit a mountain you’re doing yourself a major disservice. The sights, sounds, smells and excitement are indescribable. Now at four years old, my mind was on different things. The goggles are way cool. How the heck do I attach this crazy boot to this ski? I was bundled up like Ralphie’s little brother in “The Christmas Story,” but man was I hooked! Ski school was a good time. I remember my instructor being my hero. I learned the finer points of the snow-plow, brought down to four year old lingo, translates to “the pizza.” I have to say I was pretty good day one. Day two, chicken pox! I went from ecstasy to misery overnight. Suffice it to say I was done.
A couple of years later we traveled out to Breckenridge. I have to say that Breckenridge is probably one of the coolest mountains in the world, top five no doubt. The technical difficulty of the slope is as diverse as you would ever want, from gentle for beginners, to bowls, half-pipes, moguls, and anything in between. Some of the best skiing in the world. I didn’t fully appreciate it until my early twenties though. My memory of Breck…dangling from the chair lift! That’s right, I slid off and was hanging by a rail. Upper body strength tested, and test passed! I rode it dangling by one arm to the top!
Trip three was more of an adventure. I was in my cocky years of eight or nine and thought I had this down. I was ready to shred it up with my dad and brother. I hit the chair lift and botched it at the top taking my dad out. I got up, got my skis on, and before I knew it, my tips were pointed down, and I had forgotten all of the basics I had been taught. I was out of control, yet still cutting with the precision of Bode Miller, avoiding blind skiers (a concept I’ll never understand), and finally laying to rest in the bank of a tree. I was lucky, my parents were horrified! The experience humbled me and I tip-toed down the slopes the rest of that trip.
In my teens I began to hit the mountains about every year. I went with a church youth group to an area called Wolf Creek, which was touted as having the best snow in the Rocky Mountains. Other than the snow, there wasn’t a lot to do in that area, but it didn’t matter. This is where I began to perfect my craft, challenging myself with the competition around me, and I got pretty good. It wasn’t without consequence though. I dislocated a shoulder, snapped a ski in half, and wiped out in every position imaginable, but I got good. I was jumping, cutting, winning slalom competitions, and everything just clicked.
Throughout my older years I hit Keystone, Vail, Aspen, A Basin, Crested Butte, Snowmass, and anywhere, and anytime I could. I have to say that skiing did become a more interesting trip when the day ended in drinks on the mountain, and all of these locations were top notch when it comes to daytime and nighttime activities.
Skiing has always been my forte. Snowboarding wasn’t popular at the beginning of my career and I never wanted to waste a trip learning. I now have a son on the way and as he grows, I can’t wait to take him to his first mountain and watch his face as I reflect on my experiences. I’m sure he’ll want to board, and that sounds like a pretty good time for me to turn the corner as well. But regardless of what you do, just hit the slopes and build the memories…
