Axel Pond Skimming Click to watch Axel pond skimming

(As I was taking a photo of Josh from ZG Tech he recognized me from my website photos that he had helped to design. Glad to meet you Josh, Meow)

Saturday night Wade and I had a very last minute bonfire party. Good friends and tequila provided the perfect ingredients to help me transition back from flip flops to snowstorms.

When I awoke the next day, needing the fun factor to continue, I got ready to hike the Aspen Highlands Bowl one last time. I had missed the epic day of the year which was the day after I returned from the beach and I needed retribution. Also, their closing day party has been voted number 1 for best closing day at a ski mountain in the country and I wasn’t going to miss it.

Driving in I was met with a big smile and a friendly hello from the “Aspen Cool” parking attendant who set the precedent for an incredible day by announcing that he would honor the last punch on our parking pass next year.

As I got my things together the people spilled out of the car next to me, moaning and reeking of alcohol. They were all in town to visit Brevitt’s ski instructor, Cool Beans, who was looking quite dapper with his slicked back hair, vintage sunglasses and business suit. His friends were clearly in need of guidance. He instructed them like they were his ten year old ski students  and then elegantly sauntered off to the slopes.

His friends fell apart when he left, moving like they were in a thick vat of marshmallow crème. I don’t think this is what they had in mind to pay penance for their sins committed the night before. This crazy Aspen lifestyle of partying hard and skiing harder is not for everyone.

One overzealous man bent over to put his ski boot on and almost passed out from a head rush taking ten minutes to quietly recover with a stunned and nauseous look on his face. When they were finally ready they noticed that their hot Latino lady friend did not have her ski boots on yet but she was looking pretty good with her big fashionable eyeglasses, perfect hair and makeup and a cute bright orange ski suit with strapped on butterfly wings . “Ahhh, come on Gucci Bunny,” they moaned, picking up her skis for her and leaving her to wrestle with her alien ski boots.

It was very surreal at the base of the mountain and felt very Lewis Carroll like as Gumby streaked by with his cape flying in the wind.

A  beaver slowly and aimlessly shuffled by me in his enormous feet and proportionately enormous flat tail and bulging legs. The head of his costume was off so that he could better drink his to go breakfast beer that was wrapped in a paper bag.

I dropped my equipment and quickly spilled out all of the contents of my backpack to get to my camera and raced off to find Gumby and the beaver.

I never found the elusive beaver but like Alice in Wonderland I was not want for other interesting creatures to cross my path. I approached an Easter Bunny at guest services and introduced myself. His name was Chris Smith and he told me how he had just taken over the Parks Department in Basalt. Everybody in town seems to have more than one job so that they can stay here in the mountains. He seemed to be quite happy with both jobs and he hopes to be able to continue working at Guest Services with Tom Patras, who he seemed to admire greatly.

Chris told me of his big night on the town the night before, hopping around and laying eggs. Apparently, it’s tough being an Easter Bunny.

(Chris Smith – AKA Easter Bunny)

(Poor Gumby has a drinking problem. FYI Gumby is fourteen. I found out later from his mother while at Lacrosse practice)

Everybody was hiking the bowl in hula skirts and Kiss makeup and I was thankful that the hoof up there was a slow one. It seems that Easter weekend is a big and crazy one for the young at heart. As I slowly made my way up I overheard conversations like, “Dude, I couldn’t find my underwear this morning and I don’t know whose boxers I’m wearing.”

(Still winter conditions hiking the bowl today)

(Jason, my snow angel, awaiting the bowl which is shown above him. I met him eating snow, Brevitt’s favorite thing to do, as he waited for his pack of young Spanish students to hike the bowl with. Thank you Jason for fixing my skis that were embarrassingly hanging loose on my pack. BTW, my boys would love to ski with a cool guy like you, as would I. You could also help me with my Spanish. So, please contact me by email if you see this)

After making huge soft turns through untracked powder in the trees and into G4, I sat on the Loges lift and made friends with  Lee and Kevin.

I really don’t have a good promotional line for my blog yet so when they asked me what it was about I gave them my shortened version of my long winded answer. “Was that too long of an explanation?” I asked.

They graciously told me that they would actually like to hear more and asked me to start from the very beginning. We had a lot of fun going back to our Kindergarten days.

They reminisced about  deep rooted trauma inflicted by bowel movements left on the classroom floor and mean teachers who made them put away their popsicle stick and eraser head people and I thought about how amazing it was that a twelve minute chairlift ride could deliver such depth.

Before we parted they told me of a costume they had seen where a man was wearing a bathrobe with used condoms and cigarettes glued to it. They pontificated about what type of person would be so outwardly rude and disgusting and we concluded that it would be a person that we didn’t need to know.

(Lee and Kevin)

I skied down to the pond skimming action to find that I had missed my little Axel’s courageous plunge into the deep pool. He appeared out of nowhere, all alone and wrapped in a blanket, his face very pale.

I worried about hypothermia and took him shivering and sopping wet to sit in front of the fire.  All of his other pond skimming friends began to trickle in to recover, stripping off their wet clothes as much as they dared, and gleefully pouring the water out of their ski boots.

Axel said it was a little scary when he crashed into the deep water and the heavy weight of his ski equipment began to pull him down and then adding insult to injury the ski patrol hit him on the head with the lifesaving device. After I saw the video I saw that his story was slightly fabricated and realized that he is a storyteller just like his mother.

Actually, I was very impressed by how organized the ski patrol were, handing blankets out to the pond skimming kids and doing a very good job of slowing down and managing the mass of crazy riders and skiers.

(Axel pond skimming)

(Axel reaching hypothermia in his wet clothes)

As soon as Wade and I did the kid swap so that he could hike the bowl, the day took a 360 degree turn. Axel was miserable from having to put on wet ski boots and ski down the mountain in his cold, sopping wet clothes and Tucker was exhausted, crying the entire way down.  I perilously led them down the mountain like a mother hen protecting them from the happy, party people recklessly flying down to get more action at the bottom.

The energy was incredible at the end of the day, although I don’t see why they don’t hire one amazing band to unite the crowds, instead of having the clash of music from every business assaulting the ears of bystanders and adding to the chaos.

Wade and I were wishing that we could hang out to watch the scene but the kids would have none of it and so we locked and loaded up to leave.

I am sad that the mountain is closed for the season but with all of the great skiing still to be had, Aspen Highlands will only be closed to those not hearty enough to skin their ascent to get the best turns of the season.

Enjoy the photos:

(Cookie Monster at the top of the bowl)

(it’s wasn’t easy getting his sexy, tight ski pants over his boots)

(Old school babes at top of bowl)

Wade and I had a rough start getting the boys ready yesterday morning. Axel was moving slower than usual and Tucker woke up claiming that he hated ski school. Grumbling at each other I felt my mood plunging into anger.

We herded the boys into Vini-Man and finally got on the road. My mood started to improve when I realized that we were not going to be too late. It dipped again when Wade screeched the van to a halt and raced back to the house. He had packed all the kids gear and had forgotten his own. I tried to stifle my urge to state the obvious but it sputtered out anyway, “If you would just get Vini-Man loaded in the evening this would not happen”. He did not need to mention that it was my fault we were in this level of distress. After all it was I who had convinced him to dine at our friends’ house the night before. Our general rule is to stay home the night prior to ski school but I am not one to ever pass up an invitation to visit with friends.

We dropped off Tucker first at Powder Pandas. I was met with great resistance as I attempted to drag him to his instructor. All the tools learned from parenting classes were reverberating in my head but I didn’t have the time to use them. The boys were hiking up the Bowl and we couldn’t be late. I picked up Tucker in all of his ski clothes and hauled his 45pound mass of misery over to his teacher. Danny pleaded with me not to leave him with my crying child but today I had no choice. I apologized as I ran away shouting, “I’m sure you’ll both be fine”. I made a note to myself to increase Danny’s tip.

Wade raced on to the mountain as if he were driving in the Indy500. People watched as Vini-Man smoke out of the parking lot. The flames on the side of the van gave us away alerting all of our friends that the Livingston’s were late once again.

After dropping off the rest of the boys I took a deep breath and looked around. My veil of despondency melted away as I watched all of our friends gathering together. Saturdays on Aspen Highlands Mountain always reminds me of why I live in Colorado. After living in New York City I truly appreciate the value of living in a small town community where everybody knows one another.

In the beginning of the season the first ascent up to the top of Highlands is always a mixed bag of dread and excitement. Running into friends prior to hiking can affirm or relieve my fears. I dread the days when the bowl feels like Everest with high winds  howling off the face. The days I live for are when the temperatures are in the 30’s, the skiing is outrageous and the ski patrol is about to drop the gates on all of the supreme terrain. On these days my adrenaline rushes and turns me into a hyperventilating mess.

We hiked to the top of the Bowl and Wade was frothing at the mouth with the anticipation of hucking his skis into the newly opened slopes. He had been pent up for weeks with his broken shoulder and was ready to rock ‘n roll. I was in despair because I had forgotten to pack a surprise treat for the boys for when they reached the top of the Bowl. I demanded for Wade to leave me in his amped up state so that I could find out the  estimated arrival time of the ski classes.

Waiting at the top of the Bowl I soaked in the views surrounding me. The snowy mountains filled and enlightened my soul leaving me with a resonating peacefulness. Life was good regardless of all the obstacles. My good friend and personal trainer, Lisa Chapman, hiked up to greet me. We smiled at each other and acknowledged that we were a bunch of lucky coconuts, a quote taken from John Denver.

Launching off the top into the powdery mist we inhaled the cool air and began our descent thinking of nothing but our next turn. We knew that our children were close behind us having a similar experience and we would all soon reconvene at the bottom of the slope with rekindled souls and great stories to tell.

Life was good!

Today, we woke up to rain. Determined to enjoy our weekly date together on our favorite mountain, Aspen Highlands we tried to be optimistic and not comment on the fact that Global Warming is putting a real damper on our skiing.

We had pancakes, talked softly so as not to wake up Tucker who was staying home with his grandparents, and took off for skiing.

We dropped off our older boys with their ski instructors and watched as they lunged their hellos into their unsuspecting friends  knocking them to the ground in all of their excitement, get wet early is their motto.

The drop off location for ski school was a sea of color as the kids showed up in their latest super cool, bright, zany ski clothes. We watched appalled, from the distance, as Brevitt called his teacher a fart face and got his ski pole chucked way off into the distant powder. His instructor, has had Brevitt for three years and knows exactly how to handle him.

We left the boys excited for their day, chomping at the bit to  land 360’s and explore more secret stashes in the trees to proudly show to us later. This was our third Saturday, out of eight, where we could hike and ski the bowl without even looking at a terrain park.

No, I do not like hanging out in terrain parks nervously watching our children catch more and more air. They should have a sign on the parks, “Not suited for mothers who are not taking Valium”.

“Wow”, they ask excitedly, “did you see the big air I got?” I neglect to tell them that my eyes were actually closed as they jumped.

Occasionally, when I get the urge to attempt a rail, the boys sweetly plead with me feigning that they are concerned for my safety when I know that their real motive is to save themselves from being hugely embarrassed in front of their fellow sagging homies.

Wade and I floated through the quiet powder catching face shots in the trees and finally they opened the gate to the bowl where  we joined the frothing masses to climb to the superior powder.

I was still elated by the two laps I had done in the Bowl last Saturday and was ready to attempt the same today but I underestimated the complexities of nature. A 40 degree bluebird day does not offer the same challenges as a wet and snowy 37 degree day with eight inches of new snow to fill in the pre-existing boot packed trail.

I implored Wade not to wait for his painfully slow wife as I could tell that today would be another one of those Everest-like days where I begged him to just leave me to the elements.

I have always told him that if ever we should end up in a survivor situation he may as well eat me right away and get it over with. I would be useless to him in any other way. He resisted my pleas for him to abandon me and informed me that he had no desire to leave me, at the moment. The man ahead of us could not help himself and turned back to tell Wade that he was an amazing husband.

The hike was as painful as I had imagined and we cut in early, instead of continuing the painful hike to the top. I watched as he skied gracefully down. Thankfully, nobody was there to watch me as I stumbled over the dynamite blasted snow. Skiing is the one place where I am not afraid but today was different. We have lost to many friends to avalanches to ignore that there are real dangers out there.

The wet snow and the hike chilled me to the bone and I left Wade, full of adrenaline, to take his second lap. I skied down No Name Bowl and encountered ski patrollers taking down an injured person in a sled. I marveled at their passion and bravado as they efficiently struggled through the steep terrain and deep powder to bring this person to safety.

Feeling dry and happy in the warm restaurant, my bliss was aborted when I received the dreaded call from Wade. He had hit a rock skiing and had fallen badly on his shoulder. I was to meet him at the bottom and take him to ER.

At the hospital, Wade was given morphine as they examined his cracked scapula. The doctors listened incredulously, as he told them that he had refused to be taken down in a sled and had skied down on his own. He is such a badass just like his father.

Everybody asks me if I was nervous when I got the call from Wade that he was hurt. I realize that I have toughened up in the past nine years. As long as there is a conscious voice on the other line and I get confirmation that all limbs are still moving, than I am not so worried

Wade and I got robbed of our intimate dates in the Bowl. I suppose there are other things we can do on the Saturdays when the boys are in ski-school. I could go hot tubbing with him with a picnic lunch and perhaps some champagne. I will do what it takes to make him happy, unless it is a powder day or a perfect blue-bird day, that is common law in our neck of the woods. Of course, I’ll feed Wade a good breakfast, give him a big kiss goodbye and give him an IOU for intimacy later.