Before ski class starts.

Children learn to stop first.

Our new year's skiing made us feel good and so we began to ponder how and when we could get our children to the mountains as well. Then we learned that Vendulka had sprained her back and was not going to ski; Pavel had planned some ice climbing, Michal was stuck in Europe — simply put, the "cottage" was going to be completely deserted on the first January weekend.

I spent much time on the internet comparing options and prices for kids' ski classes, until we decided to buy only Saturday morning and wait if they like it at all. Then Hippo had to buy new poles, for he broke his old ones; I hurried to stock up on sock layers for juniors and my own cold feet. Then we had to borrow keys from Kovars, and skiing pants for me, and also soak up some instructions regarding "cottage" maintenance.

Further, we had to arrange for Tom to be let ouf of his school on Friday noon, and load the whole family circus into the wagon. Normally we's use our bus, which is capable of taking a large heap of stuff, but we like to use the subaru for mountain trips — since as a four-wheel drive it does not need chains on snow (chain controls won't let two-wheel drives through without chains) and has a larger probability of getting out of a jam. Our subaru is a station wagon, but it's quite a feat packing it all in: sleeping bags, mats (there's only one bed in the "cottage"), towels, food for two days, enough layers of clothing, mine and Hippo's ski boots, Hippo's poles, some books and a tootbrush. And that's with a kind help from our friends, as we borrow their skis and thus don't have to transport ours.

I had my last noon shift at the school on Firday, and by one thirty we were on the road. Hippo and I usually fight over temperature in the car — Hippo, especially if he's driving, demands to chill, while I shiver, wrapped in my jacket. Therefore I first did not find anything strange about the temperature (or lack thereof) in the car. But after about an hour even Sid began to twist the knobs, and soon we discovered a dysfunctional fan. We exited the freeway to the nearest car parts store and tried to find and re-seat fuses. Besided breaking sweat over putting the fuses back in, we made our wagon no wormer. We were worried about the possibility of some chain dependency of any more vital functions of the car, one that would leave us stranded helpless in the mountains. I called Tony to ask him about that — in the moment Tony picked up the phone, the fan started up again. Apparently our wagon had concluded that it can't afford to mess with an expert of Tony's caliber, and for the rest of the trip behaved OK (which was fortunate — I really would not want to freeze with two kids already on the way up).

Tom on magic carpet — a conveyor belt for the little ones.

Last ride, the lifts are closing.

The rest of the trip went on without excitement. Hippo and I conversed about our granny recently picking up the (commendable) habit of exercising at YMCA, and about Hippo now actually being the only member of the household who fails to work out; which Lisa (whom we did not expect to follow the front seat conversation) commented very loudly (and pointedly), saying DADDY IS A WIMP.

We reached Kirkwood with the last remnants of daylight lingering around. Juniors could not resist and rolled into the snow right from the car — I barely managed to issue them snow boots and orders not to get all wet. We tried to make fire in the fireplace (similarity with our real cabin in the Highlands was really strong) and then we escaped to warm up in a pub. The service was kind, beer chilled, food nothing much as expected. But at least it gave us a vacationing feeling.

It was a super-human task, to stuff excited children in their bed. They usually don't fret, but this time it was always something — too warm, too cold, going pee, drinking water, or just jumping a laughing and general mischief. I was rather worried that after missing their good night's sleep, juniors would be obnoxious in the morning and cause some trouble in the ski school.

However, Lisa was rather merry in the morning; Tom seemed somewhat stunted. He had never skied before and mentioned some worries that he may break his leg on skis. We arrived to the class ahead of time, for we had no idea how it was all going to work. That was possibly a good thing, for we passed through registration, rental shop, and gear adjustment at a dizzying pace. I bought my day lift ticket and we proceeded to wait with the children for the class to begin. Soon we were joined by a few more kids and a greater number of instructors. I have a feeling that the instructors had a slight majority, but Hippo practically forced me to go away and ski, while leaving the children at their mercy. He went back to the "cabin" with the plan to monitor channels for crisis development, and join me for the afternoon (when lift ticket get cheaper).

Juniors had enough at the end of their first skiing day.

Lisa is being rescued by an instructor.

So I covered many slopes, once I, whilst on the lift, listened to an (interesting) lecture about settlers, who arrived to California through this very mountain pass, and about skiing — I found that even more interesting, for no one ever taught me before how to ski, and I welcome any tips to improve my technique. Then I had to rush back (as one can traverse between two valleys via a system of lifts and slopes — the ski school is at the very edge of the resort, while best skiing — in our opinion — can be had far out, in another valley, where only few people go). I was nervously anticipating trouble.

A smiling Hippo informed me that both kids insisted in continuing the class, and he paid for their afternoon session. He continued that they were momentarily eating lunch (included in price) and we were to pick them up by three forty five. So we boarded the local shuttle bus, got to our "cabin", had lunch, and went to ski by ourselves. Sometimes at two o'clock, Hippo's phone rang — giving us a shock, actually, but the first message was that Lisa was OK, only tired and refusing to ski any more. Before we could make proper faces, the voice continued that Lisa was being taken care of at their base until the three forty five, and we could continue skiing. I found that rather very humane. Lisa often feels tired after lunch, and they were reasonable to not urge her into more activity, while leaving us the afternoon to ski.

Hippo then went to pick up the kids and I continued to ski till four, when they stop the lifts. Even so I reached our temporary home much sooner than the rest of the family. They came by four thirty — kids wearing large grins, Tom totally elated, for they let him ride the lift, Lisa stuffed with cracker and relaxed. Of course she did not forget to praise herself for having learned how to ski. Later inspection of some videos of her in the class show how she picks up some speed downhill, makes two shallow turns, and then gets captured into the embrace of a cute (male) instructor. Well, I hope that she will learn how to ski eventually, before she turns fifteen — I would be then much more nervous about those cute instructors.

One of the few pictures of Tom — he spent rest of the day somewhere on the lift.

On our way home we saw a beautiful sunset over Mt. Diablo.

The whole family rushed to ski again on the next day. I eventually made an agreement with Hippo that I would start right at nine when they open the lifts, he arranges for a half-day class for the kids (they don't start until 10:15) and then joins me. I would then take care of the kids at the end of their class at twelve forty five, staying home with Lisa, while Hippo tries to take Tom a few times down the easiest slope. Thus I gained an hour and a half of beautiful morning runs. It was sunny, yet frosty, and a nasty stinging wind blew in the shade. Then I skied some more with Hippo — and must say that by one o'clock I was so freezing I did not regret losing three more hours of skiing.

Tom was first not sure whether to try a "real" slope, but then they disappeared with Hippo for almost two hours. Which was great, for I could pack all our stuff in the cramped conditions of our place. Lisa asked to ski some more for a while, but judging by how happily she settled down to a computer movie, I reckon her morning class had been enough. By three we set out back toward home; by six the kids became quite restless in the car, but a dinner stop fixed it — I guess they were hungry and needed some break from their tight quarters inside our stuffy subaru.

Given the all-family enthusiasm, it would seem that our program is set for a few following winters. We shall only fine-tune a few details like accommodation, equipment — and how to pay for it all...