One of the things I promised myself when we planned to move back to Salt Lake is that I would get the family to participate more in winter sports. I love sledding, sure, and backyard snowplay is positively excellent behind our house, but I felt that we needed something more — specifically something that engages the grown-ups. Brian and I — especially I — tend to turn in to big, galumphing atrophied bears during the wintertime. This behavior was a tad more excusable in Pittsburgh — Brian was a time-crunched med student, I was nursing newborns, and while we did get bits of snow in western Pennsylvania, it never stuck around for more than a couple of days. The city didn’t have much by was of winter sports facilities, and the high humidity and ice storms made spending more than twenty minutes at a time outdoors akin to taking a mudbath in a refrigerator.
But in Salt Lake — ahh, nice winter! Nice winter! It gets into the 50s in the daytime, there’s plentiful snow (seriously, I haven’t seen grass since November), pretty mountains for exploring, and all kinds of state-of-the-art rinks and luges and what-have-yous left over from the 2002 Winter Olympics.
BUT — we’re still living on the cheap nowadays. So instead of pitching in for lift tickets, we do this:
Whee! That’s Brian and Jeffrey about to sled down a dry creekbed on Little Mountain, my favorite scary/extreme sledding spot up Emigration Canyon. (There are gentle slopes, too.) We took this trip on New Year’s Day. Jeffrey had NO FEAR — he marched straight up to the tallest hill and took off — while Eleanor was content to just go about a quarter of the way up with me and slowly drift down on her penguin tube. She yelled “I’m having fuuuuuuun!” all the way down.
My family and Brian’s came along with us on the trip, which was very fun. Afterwards we went back to Retro Acres for hot chili, corn bread, and outrageously thick Spanish-style hot chocolate with homemade churros. (Mmmm! Deep fried blissss!)