Boot Packing It!

If you're looking at the title of this post and saying- What??? 
THEN YOU'RE WITH ME!


This past weekend was the closing of the ski mountain for the season.  I must confess that I am DONE with skiing and totally ready for summer. It has been one long winter. I have been a trooper though and trekked up to the mountain with my ever enthusiastic boy clan every weekend with ne'er a grumble. That is actually a lie. I have done some grumbling, but only when the weather is really bad. 


So, on our final Saturday it was sunny and lovely and I was not doing any grumbling at all. I was feeling proud of myself that I've really pushed myself with some extra pushing from HH and ventured down really challenging terrain this season. I was feeling comfortable.


Then HH says- Boys, you want to boot pack it up stumptown?
I look around at nodding heads and realize they are speaking a language I don't understand. 
I soon find out this means taking your skis off and carrying them up a mountain so you can ski in powder. 

Now, I don't even like to carry my own skis from the parking lot to the lift. No, I do not. And HH knows this because he has been carrying them for me since I was seventeen. This little fact seems to have totally slipped his mind. 


I do realize I could say no at this point. But, I wonder what it says about me if I choose not participate when my children are up for it. I hoist my skis on my shoulder and follow the clan up the hill in super uncomfortable ski boots. HH does reach down and loosen them for me because he really does want me to like this new boot packing thing. 


I say-  You know that even though we moved to Montana, you still married a California girl. 


HH- Think of it as an adventure!

Then I do. I walk and try not to grumble. I see the boot prints in the path before us and realize how many people have made this hike. I think about HH and I'm amazed how Montana suits him so perfectly—like it was in his blood before he arrived here. The ruggedness, the exploration, the terrain. He just knows what to do.

We reach the top and I look out toward Canada and realize I've enjoyed the hike. This place, this Montana, is stretching me. Causing me to grow and be brave in ways I never anticipated. We ski down and it is the best run, best snow of the season. 


Then we do something civilized. We sit on a ski run in the sunshine with our friends and watch people who are dressed up as—white trash lady gaga, a bee, a man totally in green, madonna, a kfc bucket of chicken, superheroes— ski down the hill and across a pond. Pond-skimming. The grand finale event of the season.

Some crash and we laugh and cheer. Some make it across and we laugh and cheer.