Our trip started out like many other classic day trips of ours, with the chaotic excitement and danger that lets us know we are away from home. This time it was an out-of-control truck on an icy mountain climb. However, out-of-control seems a little misleading because it appeared to be very much in control of spinning right at its target: ME.
Herein lies the first lesson on taking a ride in the mountains during a snowstorm: No matter how good you are at putting on your show chains, if you buy a new pair, try them out before leaving. I was standing at the back of our truck as my husband struggled with the chains. My kids stuck their heads out of the back window to talk to me as I watched the heavily falling snow. That’s when Chase started to yell, “Oh shoot, oh shoot, oh shoot.” (Yeah, I was later pleased he said ‘shoot’ and didn’t use an expletive instead.) His face was full of shock as I turned around just in time to see the spinning vehicle ready to pin me against ours. It stopped mere inches from me.
The occupants must have been embarrassed, or maybe scared shootless, because they quickly flipped their car back toward the direction from which they came and left.
Right about then, I started to question the trip myself. We were traveling for the day to find snow and there we were, stuck on the side of the road, with many other families, trying to get our chains to work as snow dumped on us. A few feet up the road a tour bus that spun out was getting help from police to correct itself and get back on the road. Maybe it wasn’t the day to go. But with a near miss out of the way we figured not much more could go wrong.
With little kids in tow we didn’t want to spend a lot of money going to Sierra Summit, only to have our toddler melt down an hour into it, so we bought a snow park pass and readied for some frolicking. There was one rule we were mindful of: We were there for the kids. That one mantra kept what could’ve been many-a-stressful situation pleasant.
After the scary almost-accident we stopped at Shaver Lake Pizza. And with so much snow we opted not to even go to the snow park. We walked around the little town of Shaver towing the baby in a sled and explored hills we found behind buildings and cabins, nothing too off the road, but for three kids it was pure heaven.
We were lucky to get so much snow, and after actually getting there and getting our bearings we were glad for the timing. There is something special about watching snow fall. It goes against everything you know about an object falling. It’s peaceful and silent and gentle.
It becomes even more special when you watch kids play in it. And as with everything else involving kids, it can also be trying. It requires a lot of warming of hands and recovering lost gloves, and in the case of a toddler, this is about every three to five minutes. My patience wore thin fast.
Trying not to lose my temper I stopped for a moment and took a deep, cold breath. I looked up at the snow falling on my face and eyelashes, the world muffled around me. I realized in that moment that the role I had was specific. My job was to do one thing: facilitate their fun. To give my kids an experience. It wasn’t the rowdy snowboarding trips of our childless days, it wasn’t the romantic tumble in the snow trip like the many couples we saw. It was a trip for our three little boys who have no other expectation than to huck a big ol’ powdery handful of snow at each other for the day.
With that realization it became a day we didn’t want to end. Though we could’ve driven home and made it back for a late dinner, we instead found some inexpensive cabins. We awoke the next morning to the absolute clearest skies and warmest day. We spent the morning pushing kids on sleds and then hauling them back up the hill to do it all over again. The morning was so hot and sunny that none of the kids minded getting wet in the snow. Through it all there was no more bad luck, no frustration or attitudes; just joy, family, and lots of snow.
Arts Editor Shelly Cone likes to take a snow day once in a while. She can be contacted at scone@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in Apr 29 – May 6, 2010.