Rocky Mountain Highs: Steamboat Springs

Since it was the kids' first real winter vacation I crammed as many outdoor activities as I could on the way to Steamboat Springs, expense be damned. First up was snow tubing at Frisco Adventure Park. I had booked our time slot well in advance of the trip, which was fortunate because when we arrived we found the lodge completely packed and the day had been completely sold out. The sleds were large inflatable tubes with canvas floors that the kids could sit inside. There was a magic carpet lift up to the top of the hill where we linked up our tubes and then flew down the slope with a push from the attendant. It was the perfect speed to thrill our kids. Cleo felt a little sick from the altitude since we were now at 9000 feet, but she managed to get past it and enjoy a few runs.

We had to hightail it back east to make our scheduled departure on the Georgetown Loop Railroad. I had hesitated to put this on our itinerary due to mixed reviews but in the end decided we had nothing to lose since there wasn't anything else to do at night in the area. Georgetown was a very cute and rustic town that was originally a mining camp. The railroad itself was kind of a bust. Our car was super crowded and the Christmas light displays outside were mediocre. The ride was far too long as well, forty-five minutes. The kids on the train were either too young to know where they were or old enough to be bored after twenty minutes. Cleo spent most of the last half of the ride asking me how much longer until we were done. The buffoonish Christmas Carol skit in the middle of the ride wasn't much better than staring out the window. When we disembarked from the train at the top of the windy hill, it was the coldest we'd been on the trip so far.

There was no shortage of restaurants in Georgetown and we got a hearty dinner of pho before we drove to our motel in Idaho Springs and settled in for the night. Idaho Springs was another picturesque mountain town with a strip of hotels along the highway and a main street crafted for tourism. We were efficient enough getting out of the motel that we could grab a hasty but hearty breakfast before getting on the road.

We were just 39 miles from our snowmobiling site in Fraser which seemed like it would have been an easy distance to cover in an hour and a half, but we barely made it. Soon after we exited the interstate onto Route 40, the road began a steep ascent into the mountains that was marked by sharp hairpin turns on unplowed asphalt. Fortunately it had already been two days since the snow fell and cars had left tracks that we could follow without getting into the slush. The snow-covered mountains and evergreens around us were beautiful, to the extent that I could take my gaze off the center of the road. At one point we even saw a good-sized avalanche taking place across the valley from the highway.

We made it to the snowmobiling location in the nick of time for our reservation and quickly got suited up. We were well-prepared with three layers of clothing, fleece balaclavas that covered our necks, and polarized goggles. The departure point was a flat field surrounded by snowcapped mountains. The snowmobiling itself was fairly sedate, with the adults driving and the kids holding on behind. I was relieved that we never came close to the speeds of my first snowmobiling experience twenty tears ago in Iceland.

After snowmobiling we ate at a surprisingly good Cajun restaurant in Fraser, then set off on what seemed like an interminable drive to Steamboat Springs. The Airbnb condo was fantastic, a spacious and beautifully-furnished two bedroom with a good kitchen and not a trace of a draft.

I'd expected to have some hiccups getting ready for our first day of skiing, but it turned out to be more of an unholy cluster than I could have imagined. I had thought the parking at Steamboat Ski Resort would be obvious, but then I missed the closest lot which forced us to walk several hundred meters carrying all of our equipment. We had to drop the kids off for their lessons in two different locations, and once I got the little ones to the right place I couldn't get Spenser's boots on. His feet had slipped in fairly easily at the rental shop, but now they seemed to have grown two sizes. Finally a couple of employees were able to get them on and I was able to leave him at his lesson. I found Mei Ling dropping off Cleo and Ian at their lesson and then I was finally able to take all our stuff to the lockers. I tried to save a few bucks on a small locker and ended up losing a few bucks by having to rent a second locker. Then when I tried to get my own ski boots on it was a no go. I stretched them as much as I could but it was pretty clear neither foot was going to go in. I had to open up the locker again, grab my shoes, and head over to the ski rental shop at the resort. I guess my boots had frozen while I was getting Spenser ready, because the guy at the rental shop put them on a warmer and afterwards they went on just like they had the night before. Then back to the lockers to drop off my shoes and I was finally ready to hit the slopes at eleven AM, almost three hours after we'd arrived.

For the next four hours I was on my own. I'd skied a fair number of times up until I was in my early twenties and then gone cold turkey. I decided I simply didn't enjoy it enough to justify all the logistical hassles, and I hadn't really missed it much over the last twenty-five years. I was curious to see whether my body memory would activate after so many years away from the slopes. The first lift from the main ground area was a gondola, which provided nice views over the resort and the surrounding valley.

It felt very weird to surrender myself to gravity on the slopes, but fortunately it only took me a couple of runs before I felt that I was close to the mediocre skier I had been in my teens and twenties. One thing that helped was that the mountain was a lot less crowded than I had expected. One guy I shared a chairlift with said he thought it was because of the temperature. It actually didn't feel that cold and I was surprised to learn it was in the single digits. I guess I chose my ski clothing well. Eventually I made it to the very top of the mountain although I never got up the nerve to intentionally try one of the black diamond slopes. I did encounter a short segment of moguls after taking a wrong turn which accounted for virtually all of my falls during the day. The most embarrassing fall happened when I ducked too enthusiastically to avoid getting my head clocked by the lift as I jumped off at the summit and then fell backwards onto my butt. In the end my late start didn't matter because by three in the afternoon I was exhausted and bored. It seemed that no latent love of skiing had been born in my soul during my quarter century sabbatical. Back at the base I collected the two families and slogged all the equipment back to the car. In my exhaustion I completely forgot that it was New Year's Eve and that there would be a torch parade down the slope and then fireworks at dusk.

The prix fixe New Year's Eve dinners in Steamboat Springs were outrageous, so we'd decided to make dinner at home. Our friends were supposed to join us at the Airbnb but fell asleep and never made it. I had a headache and no appetite whatsoever, which confused me until I realized that while we were currently under 7000 feet elevation, the mountain rose to 10500 feet at the summit. I was suffering from mild altitude sickness. Now I also knew why my stumbles on the mogul slope had been so exhausting. A couple of times it had taken me a couple of minutes to catch my breath just from getting myself back to an upright position. Fortunately everyone else was fine and by the morning I was back to normal.

The first day of skiing had been an expensive and arduous undertaking for me, but it was worth it after seeing how much fun the kids had had. Cleo had naturally done the best but it didn't seem like she had progressed enough to be able to manage even the easiest slopes at Steamboat. Personally I'd already had more than enough skiing and altitude sickness for the next twenty-five years, but the kids were very excited to keep going. Fortunately my extensive research had revealed a way for us to keep skiing without paying thousands for more lessons at Steamboat. The town of Steamboat Springs is also home to Howelsen Hill, the oldest operating ski area in North America, which has no affiliation with Steamboat Ski Resort and sells adult full day lift tickets for $50, a fraction of the cost of the resort. Howelsen Hill isn't the best choice for experienced skiers due to the small number of Alpine runs, especially on weekdays, but the bunny slope was open daily and seemed like a perfect option for us. In the morning we loaded up all our equipment and headed out for another day of skiing.

We only encountered one logistical issue this time around. I had entered "Howelsen Hill" instead of "Howelsen Hill Ski Area" into Google Maps which took us on a completely wrong route up the hill on the opposite side from the ski area. Eventually we encountered a snowy uphill slope that I valiantly attempted to summit and failed. Fortunately I never lost control of the car and was able to maneuver to the side of the road. Our friends in their 4WD were able to reach us and we realized the discrepancy in our destinations. I worked the car back around and down the hill and soon we had found the correct place. The ski area was actually quite simple to get to from the center of town and didn't require any uphill driving at all. There was a magic carpet lift to the top of the bunny slope which proved to be very slippery. The kids would slide backwards into me if they tried going up on their skis and a couple of times we fell off completely. It was all I could do to go up with my skis on if I leaned forward and dug my poles into the rubber treads. The slope was great for the kids to learn how to control their speed by turning instead of the silly "pizza" moves they insisted on teaching at the resort. We skied at Howelsen Hill for the next three days, although by the last day the boys had enough and it was just Cleo and me. I was quite proud of how skilled Cleo had become after just a few days of practice. At the end of the last day we decided to attempt the Poma lift to the long beginner trail. Of course it had been a long time since I'd ridden one of these but I remembered they were trickier than they looked. I wasn't too worried about myself but I wasn't sure Cleo would be able to handle it. Surely enough, Cleo got on but immediately got her skis caught in the snow and was tossed to the side. I tried to convince her to get back on but she wasn't having it. I really wanted to see what was at the top of the hill so I told her I'd just be a few minutes and took my turn at the front of the line. I mounted the Poma without a problem but I forgot about the strong recoil after the lift took my weight and I got unceremoniously thrown as well. The two of us slunk back to the lodge in disgrace and packed up to go home.

It snowed about six inches on our second morning in Steamboat Springs. Once again we had lucked out by getting all the benefits of fresh snow without the hassle of having to drive long distances through it. Cleo helped me shovel out the car and later we all climbed the huge mountain that was left by the plows. On the last day when Cleo and I went skiing on our own, Spenser and his friend Bao Bao made their first snowman.

We didn't see much of Steamboat Springs until our last full day in town. Until then we had just gone to the supermarket and a couple of the more heralded restaurants on the small town's main drag, Lincoln Avenue. The most impressive was Bésame, a two level Latin fusion bistro where we sampled most of the menu and every dish was on point. Even more impressive were the waitresses on the upper level who glided between the crowded tables like birds, never missing a beat or getting flustered no matter how hectic the scene got. It was an exceptional dining experience. Our other dinner out was at a sushi place called Tahk. Because of the kids we couldn't opt for the omakase but I got a picture of their cool set-up before we left.

There isn't much to see in Steamboat Springs outside of the stores on Lincoln Avenue. On our last afternoon we spent a couple of hours browsing through a consignment store and an art gallery, eventually purchasing a couple of beautiful horse sculptures that were the work of a local artist.It's a pleasant town but I doubt it would be much of a draw if it wasn't for the year-round outdoor activities.

On our last day we took the kids on the Outlaw Mountain Coaster at the ski resort which they enjoyed but probably wasn't worth the $25 a pop to share a sled. The drive back to Denver seemed excruciatingly long and was only brightened by the snow-covered landscape we passed through.

W got back to Denver early enough to take the kids bowling for the first time. We drove out to a suburb instead of making another attempt at Lucky Strike downtown. Bowling is another activity I haven't participated in for about twenty years. The alley had rails blocking the gutters that came up when the kids bowled. Did those exist when I was a kid? Not that I recall. Anyway, they certainly made the experience a lot more fun for the kids. After bowling, we found a hot pot place that provided us with a very satisfying final meal for the trip.

We crashed in a very basic Airbnb near the airport and got up before dawn for our flight back to Miami. It had been a very different kind of trip but I think the children will remember it more than any of the others we've taken. It's hard to underestimate the impact of a full week of winter with sledding, snowmobiling, and skiing on Florida kids who have never even seen fresh snow before. I was content with having seen how much fun the kids had and also with having crossed another major American city and state off my travel list. I'm pretty sure we're going to have to do an annual ski trip now, and I'm excited to try it in some of the states we still haven't visited like New Mexico and Michigan. The kids are also pretty close to the age where it would be fun to start hitting the national parks in New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah on summer vacation. As usual, the more trips we take the longer our wish list gets.