I kicked Buttermilk's Butt!

and, yeah, it kicked back a little, but, still! considering I'd never been on skis before, I feel pretty good about what I accomplished this weekend. I ended up going down the upper part of Buttermilk Mountain yesterday, and only fell into snowbanks about four times (but they were GOOD falls, let me tell you!). There was what my sister-in-law called "champagne snow" falling all day long, so by the time we went up to the top, there was between 4-5 inches of powder on the ground, more in the drifts along the edges of the treeline. It was amazing. There weren't a lot of skiers out because of the snow so there were tons of places, even on the lower bunny slopes, that I had a huge expanse to myself with my super-ultra-awesome instructor Daryl. It was awesome.

I didn't get the payoff of the great view from the top of the lift because of the flurries, but I was able to experience first-hand the magic of the mountains. This is what I saw on one of the turns back down toward the lower lift:



It's why my brother's been trying to get me out here for 15 years now. I get it now. The total silence was amazing, interrupted only by my breathing and the slide of my skis against the snow. Phenomenal.

Even more so? Watching my two kids take to the mountains like ducks to water. Elder Child skied a black diamond with my sister-in-law and smoked it, and TDP DinoBoy did pretty well. My brother says he has no "terminal velocity" monitor, so he's not afraid to go fast and is young enough to be molded into the right form easily. I'm pretty sure we'll be making this a regular adventure. Pretty cool, if you ask me!