All that being said, I've not gone skiing in two years. The last time I went skiing was Christmas in Utah two years ago, which was also the last time Tony and I came to Salt Lake City for the holidays. Truth be told, my heart wasn't in it -- given the things that were gong on with me and Tony after that holiday season of 2007. The winter of 2008 was tough, I didn't want to go skiing alone and barely made it to Salt Lake in the midst of that pain and didn't bring ski gear. I've missed skiing and have been looking forward to going, so I packed my boots and clothes for this trip to Salt Lake so that my brother Gordon and I could go.
Gordon loves skiing more than just about anything and he's damn good at it. He always was better at it than I was, and he tackles moguls like they were nothing. Me, I HATE moguls. Give me a groomed corduroy run that I can let go on and carve some nice arcing turns. I detest bumps. Gordon lives for them. My favorite place to ski is someplace that doesn't believe in moguls and grooms the snow as often as a hockey game runs the zamboni over the ice -- somewhere like Deer Valley or The Canyons. Gordon loves Snowbird where I don't think they own a grooming machine. I reluctantly went to Snowbird.
Like I said, I like my ski runs blue, groomed to perfection, and uncrowded. I like sprawling resorts with runs that go for miles. Snowbird is compact, steep and if they own a grooming machine they certainly hide it. Snowbird is for hard core, steep bump skiers. Guys like my brother who pack a lunch and eat it on the tailgate. (He learned that from my late father who would pack cold baloney on white Wonderbred and an orange in his coat pocket and we'd eat that while riding the lift as kids.) Me, I like going into a nice lodge and having a burger or roast beef sandwich with a nice hot chocolate and a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie, but I digress.
So we get the tickets and head up the mountain on the Gadzoom chair lift, my brother and reminiscing about how this is where we really learned to ski and how the lift was an old clunky fix grip double in those days and on and on. Thursday was one of those days that was made for skiing -- clear, new snow, sunny, and surrounded by the towering peaks of the Wasatch. One of the biggest things I miss about Utah is these mountains. I'd not gone with Reid since Tony and I took him for his first lesson three years ago, and he had turned into quite a good little skier. Skiing with my brother will do that to you.