Whether...

WHETHER…

Alex and I we’re trying to decide whether we could convince our wives that skiing was on the docket for the weekend. Alex and I hadn’t done as much skiing together as we had in our younger days, back when we were bachelors. Between our “real jobs”, as Alex liked to call it, and our developing families; we just hadn’t taken the time.

We had finally convinced Krista and Donna, Alex’s and my wife that the time was right to take the girls up for the weekend. Whether we truly convinced our wives or not, was up for debate…but the fact that we had booked the condo, had enough food purchased and packed and ready to go along with the sleeping bags, blankets, emergency snacks and water supply.

We had just the perfect number for our SUV, Alex and I, our wives and the two girls made six. Alex, I’m sure at his wife’s behest; kept saying, “It’s OK, man, I can drive. We can follow you up.”

“No!” I said, defiantly. “We’re going to do this all together! Same car, that way we can all talk on the way up and hang out together.”

Alex and I winked and Krista and Donna nodded.

“Bundle up so you don’t freeze!”

I always remember that line from our daughters’ favorite book: Go Dog Go.

With the SUV packed tight, we surely wouldn’t freeze.

And we were bundled up, all right!

Whether the weather was going to treat us well on the drive up, or even better treat us to that glorious champagne powder of the cold high country, was an ill-balanced wish.

Winter in the high country is unpredictable. Meteorologists can predict a clear day. Then suddenly, some clouds would build up over the foothills and the next thing you know snow is falling, wind is blowing, sleet comes screaming at your windows and you’re in a full-fledged blizzard.

By the time the girls had gotten their bags, games, books, clothes and favorite blankies and Alex and I stood by after loading the skis, boots, poles; it was well after lunchtime.

Whether we would make it up to the ski area before dark was now at risk.

We had driven only for 30 minutes of our two and a half hour journey when:

“We gotta go pee” rang out in unison from the back seat.

Alex and I had been in our own little world talking about his work, my business travel, and the girls—we had virtually ignored the kids and our wives sitting just behind us. We were shaken quite pointedly back into reality by the informal request for a potty break. The first gas station to be found was the target and we took turns using the facilities offered up to the road travelers. After taking care of business the girls reminded us that we had promised to stop for a bite, and it was already way past lunch.

It was tight quarters, and everyone needed a break from the car; so we decided to compromise and eat inside the Wendy’s next door to the gas station.

After a long late lunch at the Wendy’s and the girls begging for “just one more round pleeeease” through the kid’s playland, we made it out to the car. Everyone looked up as it started to snow. Winter wonderland played in my mind as I looked up, watching the huge fluffy flakes floating down. Alex and I looked at the sky, the girls, our wives; and then looked at each other—we knew it was going to be a long drive from here to the ski area.

Whether we could make it over the high mountain passes before the storm got worse was the question.

After brushing two inches of newly fallen snow off the SUV, we were again on our way.

The highway stretching north was twisty and turny and with big snowflakes in the air, then more piling up on the road and pre-weekend traffic, we averaged about 25-30 miles per hour. The highway was two lanes, narrow at times, and the winds blowing in and out of some areas between the walls of the canyon limited the visibility on a good day. The storm’s gray skies slid into early evening darkness and we could barely make out taillights ahead of us which glowed a darker red as the drivers braked going around corners.

The temperature had dropped dramatically and the initial melted snow on the roadway had turned to glare ice, with the new snow on top.

Cars not equipped with 4-wheel drive slid all over the place. Alex and I decided we’d take it slow and brave the pass. We checked with the gas station attendant, and he didn’t have any updates on the pass—other than to tell us that it had been snowing above 10,000 feet almost all day long.

As we headed up the first leg of the pass we were in white-out conditions again.

Even though the defroster was on high, both Alex and I were slumped toward the dashboard looking out the bottom six inches of the windshield that was clear. Now, barely making out the lights of the vehicle directly in front of us.

The brake lights glared and we followed suit slowly coming to a stop. Several emergency vehicles stopped on the road ahead. Nothing unnerves an already nervous set of passengers more than seeing red lights flashing.

Donna, my wife, was first to say what everyone was thinking: “Ed, slow down. There’s been an accident!”

Stress exhibits itself in strange ways. My stress came out in a sarcastic responses to Donna, this time in the form of, “Honey I’m only going 3 miles per hour, and I think ALL the traffic is stopped.”

Alex’ wife Krista weighed in rhetorically: “Guess we should’ve checked the weather report before agreeing to this plan!”

As soon as vehicle would inch forward, the lean of the road pulled the non-4WD vehicle toward the ditch. After twenty minutes of edging up on each vehicle and making it around them, we came up to the emergency vehicles. A tour bus had slid into the ditch and most of the state patrol officers and other emergency crew were scratching their heads as we had passed by—it would take a crane to get that large bus back on the road.

“We’re doing just fine. We’ve got a lot of weight with this SUV; we’ve got it in low 4-wheel drive, and we’ll just take it slow.” I smiled in the rearview and caught the glare of four sets of eyeballs looking forward.

“Yeah, Eddie…” An unsure Alex, ever sarcastic, said low enough for just me to hear

The snow lightened up a bit and we found that the plows had been through making the ascent more tolerable with the ice treatment they were dropping.

Almost as soon as the mood had lightened in the car and the girls were jabbering again, the junction of the highway below the last ascent of the pass had two police cars blocking the road. The two snowplows who had cleared the road up to this point were stopped and talking to the officers,

“We should have turned around when we were at Wendy’s! Now what?” Donna’s voice created daggers that hung in the air.

The first motorist in the line of three cars (we were #3, yay!?) had gotten out and was talking to the officer, we picked up on the conversation:

“…I’m not sure when it will open, if at all. All I know is traffic has been stopped both ways going up the pass, both from this side and the other coming out of the ski area.” The patrolman had said.

“So, we’re just to sit here and wait?” asked the disgruntled man.

“I have my orders, sir, no one is to pass as the conditions are white-out on the pass and travel is restricted to emergency vehicles only. All I know is we’re all waiting on word from the department of transportation.”

Alex and I had gotten enough information.

When we returned to the SUV, our daughters had gotten dressed in their ski pants and parkas and were tumbling out of the car.

“Mom said we could get out,” the girls said as Alex and I crawled back into the warmth of the SUV.

“So, they just expect us to wait here, for God knows how long, until they say it’s OK?”

“Yeah, Krista, that’s the story,” was Alex’s reply.

We all looked out of the windows. The girls we’re laughing and making snow angels under the halogen lights where we sat waiting.

“Hey, I think the snow is lightening up!” We all looked at the sky, the girls and their works of art in the freshly fallen snow, and then back ahead at the officer who had a new group of about six people huddled around him. It’s amazing how a group can focus on everything around them much easier than they can look into each other’s eyes in moments of stress. Thank goodness the girls were having a blast in the snow—at least that had lightened our thoughts as we contemplated our fate on the pass, and the weather.

#

After the girls had expended their energy and returned to the SUV we were once again packed for the journey—but to where? As if answered by a message from above, the snowplows moved forward up the pass, skirting the side of the roadblock while waving to the patrolman who was continuing to answer questions from new arrivals. By this time, there was a string of cars behind us, and I could feel the anticipation as the snowplows departed. Although this gave us a sign of hope, we were still restricted to waiting until the patrolman gave us an all-clear.

To our disbelief, an SUV with out-of-state license plates passed the whole line merging into the other lane of traffic as he passed the patrolman’s car. We expected the patrolman’s lights to begin flashing as he started pursuit, but then another car passed us and trekked up the “closed” pass. As we discussed the merits, the possible traffic ticket, and the apparent disregard for authority, a line of traffic preceded by a patrol car came down off the pass.

Watching the cars go by, we noticed just a trace of snow on them, nothing like what we had been through on our side of the pass.

As the last car passed by our waiting line the patrolman moved his car to the shoulder, then he motioned with his arm hanging out of the car for us to proceed. The newly plowed path was welcome as the snow falling had picked up where the cars were lined up waiting for the “all clear.”

Six inches of snow had fallen since we arrived at the roadblock, and I could make out where each vehicle had been parked by the impressions each vehicle had left in the snow.

“Here we go, everybody! Buckle-up!” I said like the captain of a ship, as we continued our “voyage.”

The progress was slow up the pass and the snow flurries increased as we approached the summit. Our only guide were the taillights in front of us. The only traffic in the oncoming lanes were two snowplows and a single, low-profile vehicle that we were sure would be stranded as they got into deeper snow.

As we neared the summit the snow became lighter, and we could make out the moon behind the light, billowy clouds. It was a full moon and as the clouds lifted, we were treated to beautifully snow-draped trees and open spaces with snow sparkling in the moonlight. It was a mystical experience as one moment we were in a blinding snowstorm and the next we were opening the beautiful valley below the ski mountain: with the full moon and stars overhead and the snow glistening,untouched by animal or snowmobile…our reward for a challenging trek to the mountains.

Breathtaking!

#

I sat, taking it all in and realized what mattered most wasn’t whether the weather would favor us, but whether we chose to embrace the journey together.