I skipped into the kitchen singing, “We’re going on a ski trip, thanks to Colorado Ski Country USA.”

When my three boys and my husband, Wade, asked where we were going, I told them that we were going to the Wolf Creek Ski Area, a high alpine ski resort that rises up from its 10,300 foot base. A place that proudly boasts 465 natural inches of snowfall a year, the highest snowfall in Colorado.

photo courtesy of Wolf Creek

My excitement began to wane and my concern began to grow when Wade began to map out the arduous route to southwestern Colorado and said, “You’ll probably be sleeping the entire time anyway.  Don’t get me wrong, I have always wanted to ski Wolf Creek and am up for the powder skiing if you are, I am just gearing myself up for what is ahead, my little Mommy Blogging Travel Writer.”

When I told Wade that they had 98 inches of snow as their base at mid mountain, approximately 38 inches more than we had in our mountains here, our excitement began to grow.

As Wade predicted, the boys and I fell fast asleep as he climbed over the passes. He pointed out that I was better asleep for when I was awake I only made him more nervous as he swerved his way around the deer, fox and elk that were just begging to become road kill along the icy highway. To make matters worse, we took a pit stop and I accidentally smashed my door into his head as he was bending over to help Tucker.

We arrived at the Wyndham Pagosa at 1:00am and Wade and I were elated to find that not only did we have a full kitchen and fireplace but we also had our own bedroom, a luxury that we have not enjoyed for a long time. We fell into bed  and woke up bright and early the next morning to a spectacular view out of our window of the San Juan mountains shrouded in snow clouds, and we hustled the boys out of the door.

Our hosts, Davey Pitcher and his wife Rosanne Haidorfer-Pitcher, had arranged for the boys to be put into their Hot Shots and Wolf Pup ski schools and we did not want to be late for our first ski date of the year.

We pulled up to the parking lot and I was transported back to my youth where I spent the weekends skiing at Stratton, Vermont with my parents. Not only was the resort devoid of ski racks but there also weren’t any hotels or sprawling development cluttering the mountain. It was clear that those who came to this resort, came for the skiing and the snow, and not to lounge in their ski bunny outfits in the ski lodge.

The drop off for the boys was hassle free and the boys happily went off with their ski instructor, Steve, a polite Texas boy whose popularity did not escape them as he “Maamed” and “Sirred” his way around the mountain.

As for Tucker, we worried that his rebellious side would rear its ugly head being that we have been seeing a lot of that lately, but when we walked into the Wolf Pup building he immediately felt the warmth and kindness from the employees and everything went well, despite the fact that we had left his warm ski coat back at Diorio’s South Pizza in Pagosa Springs. They whisked Tucker away treating him like a little prince as they adorned him in a very comfy oversized coat that they got from the lost and found box. “TTFN,” I cried blowing him a kiss as I raced out to meet our guide, Lou, who was going to introduce us to the 1,600 skiable acres.

“Let’s find the vert,” Wade said referring to the 1,604 feet of vertical drop that the mountain offered and so we began climbing the steps to hike past the challenging double diamond runs in the Knife Ridge Chutes and continued hiking through the quiet of the trees over to Horseshoe Bowl.

What we enjoyed the most that day was the feeling that we were back country skiing without the worry of avalanches. While Wade launched off of cliffs I explored the fresh tracks on the steep terrain beside him. We skied to the Alberta chairlift and Wade was elated to meet Terry who was manning Alberta’s Grill, a cleverly located ski by shack that provided sustenance for those hearty skiers who might otherwise forget to eat as they lapped the steeps all day.

We were enjoying seeing the retro fashion and the fossil skis that we had not seen since the eighties and when we mentioned it to Davey, the CEO and Mountain Manager, he informed us of their mission to ensure that the mountain remained family friendly and that everybody who was passionate about skiing could afford a lift ticket.

Above, Wade and Davey

Local Color

An adult ski ticket is $52.00 a day and $28.00’s for children and seniors and they also have fourteen “Local Appreciation Days,” that offer a $31.00 adult all lift ticket and $18.00 for seniors and children.

Davey told us of the history of the resort that is  celebrating its seventieth year. Wolf Creek Pass began with a group of ski enthusiasts in Alamosa who were interested in skiing and found that Wolf Creek Pass offered “all kinds of ski slopes to all kinds of skiers”. The San Luis Valley Ski association established a small ski tow and warming cabin, “financed by popular subscription and memberships into the club” and in 1976, Davey’s parents, Kingsbury and Charity Jane Pitcher, took ownership and made improvements to the resort.

As he spoke about the importance of the quality of their home made meals in their mountain restaurants, the integrity of his family was revealed and it wasn’t too difficult for us to witness for ourselves the hard work ethics that he and Rosanne had instilled in their four hundred employees, from the lifties who carefully managed every chair, to the ski instructors who went out of their way to help us when we looked lost.

That night we soaked our tired bodies in the multiple therapeutic mineral hot springs pools at The Springs in Pagosa Springs. The boys raced from one pool to the other, testing the varying  temperatures. Wade’s favorite was The Berg which was the hottest at 114 degrees. Tucker and I preferred Serendipity, a mild 103 degrees with a 6ft. waterfall.

On our last day, Davey strapped on his snowboard and Rosanne put on her telemark skis and they took us on a tour of the mountain. “Good thing my instructor taught me balance,” Axel squealed as he and Brevitt chased after Davey to discover all of his secret stashes through the trees.

Axel skis to Brevitt who is the yard sale in the photo

At the end of the day, Tucker who was filled with pride from riding the chairlift all by himself, had  to be peeled off of his ski instructor. We said our goodbyes and loaded up for our drive home with the children making plans to move there for a month.

Tucker rides alone for the first time

Tucker with Buck, otherwise known as Howard or “Normal”, as in NOT

Today, as I write about our experience, I am thankful that we had the opportunity to visit such a wonderful family mountain and the memories of skiing freshies in a friendly resort atmosphere will just have to tide me over until the next storm arrives in Aspen.

For more stories please visit http://aspenreallife.com

*cross-posted at Mile High Mamas and Colorado Ski Country USA

**Mile High Mamas wants to send your family to ski or ride at the Wolf Creek Ski Area. Go here to enter to win four tickets for this season. Contest deadline is February 27, 2010.

I found this great challenge online called the Half Drunk Challenge. I was excited to partake in this challenge, not only because after a year of writing I have needed to rid myself of the thin embryonic veil that I have enveloped myself in but also because I have something to get off of my chest. In fact, I was so excited about this opportunity to let go that I obsessively wrote three posts in the past few days which will be released in the next few posts but in the end, even though they were subjects that I would not normally write about, I felt they were still way too contrived.

So, here it is, the big, bad, ugly truth:

I am a witch. Not a wicked witch, at least not the story book quintessential wicked witch. I’m a dysfunctional witch who has yet to discover all of her powers and it is my mother who knows my witchiness more than all others, accepting me for what I am, a moody, intolerant and irrational child.

“Don’t be ridiculous”, she cries trying to understand my insanity. “Your working too hard, your too hard on yourself, having three boys is difficult, get some sleep, stop waking up at 5:00am” but having somebody who totally understands me and makes excuses for my poor behavior doesn’t make it any easier.

Basically, I am a witch without the benefits! No magical broom to fly off on when I need it the most, no ability to cast spells or make potions to right all of the wrongs, just your ordinary  witch who can’t rise above the noise to call forth her inner good.

The good news is that when I am not being wickedly intolerant I am a very, very good and beautiful witch. Not like Glinda from the Wizard of OZ, although I do hail from the North. On that note promise to do me a favor, if you ever catch me in a frilly, tulled pink dress like Glinda’s please take me out back and shoot me. Anyway, I couldn’t be Glinda because I don’t have her sweet voice and sexy mole on my chin, or am I remembering her incorrectly?

Sooo, I’ve established that Glinda I am not, but when I am good, oh boy do I thrive on it to a point where people think I am nuts as I throw my love around to those who are capable of handling it.

If only I could hold onto the greater good all of the time and not let the bad reveal my scary self to my three little boys…hang on a second, they are the ones who call forth my badness with their inability to listen when we say it is bedtime because their fantastic innate clock tells them that 7:30pm is ding a ling, wake up and get crazy time.

They may cringe at the black pointy hat and wart on my chin that reveal that my deep and dark annoyances are getting the best of me but it is me and Wade who cringe at their loss of hearing. They shouldn’t have to accept and forgive me for all of my wickedness but I am all that they have for a mother and so they have no choice.

Call me witchy poo if you dare but even witches become witchy for a reason and if you wake up with your tongue tied in a knot, don’t go asking why because nobody will understand you.

I was on the phone with my friend Gretchen when I heard screaming in the background. Her daughter had gotten pushed into a door knob by her feisty brother. Gretchen multi-tasked well, soothing her child without missing a step in our conversation. The second time her daughter came in screaming I heard thumping and dead silence. Gretchen saw her daughter coming and ran out the door escaping into the yard so that we could finish our conversation. We shared stories of having to shut ourselves in the bathroom to enjoy an adult conversation with a friend and agreed that it was time for the kids to go back to school.

The boys change so much from one summer to the next and I am enjoying that my role as a mother is changing. I am able to play with them more and cater to them less. The only caveat is the closer we become the more they begin to take ownership over me. My time becomes less my own and time with Wade gets more and more monopolized. To share intimate moments together is almost impossible. If we do manage to slip away we will often hear little gremlins trying to pick the lock on the bedroom door to steal their mommy back.

As Americans we tend to over indulge our children. After a summer playing Camp Director, I have decided that next summer will be different. I have done my boys a disservice by mapping out their days. Next summer I will encourage them to explore our neighborhood more and find the frogs and other treasures in the surrounding countryside, just as I did with my sister’s when I was their age. No longer will I take the responsibility of entertaining them every day and no longer will I be following them around the house cleaning up after them. I will establish a routine now that will hopefully help them with the transition back to school.

We will resort back to our chore list, which I never should have let go over the summer. The list helps the children to better understand their responsibilities as members of the family.

Good habits are not easy to establish, but without them children can feel lost. According to Dr. Laura Markham, a clinical psychologist, specializing in relationship-based parenting, routines help children feel safe and ready to take on new challenges and developmental tasks.

Dr. Markham says that kids who come from chaotic homes, where belongings are not put away, never learn that life can run more smoothly if things are organized a little.  In homes where there is no set time or space to do homework, kids never learn how to sit themselves down to accomplish an unpleasant task.  Kids who don’t develop basic self-care routines, from grooming to food, may find it hard to take care of themselves as young adults.  Structure allows us to internalize constructive habits. Structure and routines teach kids how to constructively control themselves and their environments. http://parentstoolkit.squarespace.com/structure-routines-kids/

I heard on NPR that the routine of sitting down to dinner every night as a family is more important than reading books to your children. It gives children a sense of security and belonging to know that they will have a time every day where they can be listened to by their parents and where their stories can be shared.

According to the Raising Children Network, research has shown that routines have health benefits: children living in families who maintain regular family routines have fewer respiratory infections, and those they have tend to be shorter. There is still some conjecture about why. It might be that the routines contribute to healthy habits like washing hands which prevent transmission of germs that can cause illness, or that they help protect children against the kind of stress that suppress the immune system.

For those of you who are having a difficult time adjusting to the change, try not to lament that the endless days of summer are coming to an end. Embrace the new school year with open arms knowing that the children are getting the education and structure they need to help guide them through life.  Enjoy your new free time and indulge yourself! I know that I will.

About This Post

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