Icy Morning Car Rides to Bliss
by Sam Bartlett

We, my brother, sister, father, and I, pile into the back seat of the dented pathfinder at 7:00AM amid our snowboards. We’re bundled and wrapped in coats and scarves and gloves and mittens and helmets, like marshmallows of snow-proof warmth. We’re all tired and sore from previous explorations of Kirkwood Mountain, a bump on the earth that sleeps like a giant bristled with trees and rocks and blanketed in white. "Dad, Jason’s on my side!" "I am not! "Your snowboards in my foot space!" "Hey Dad, where’s the Ibuprofen?" Dad starts to go crazy. We pull over; he needs coffee.

Once his sanity is restored, his mug rests steamily empty in the cup-holder and the CD player is blaring Trey Anastasio’s Solo Project, excitement conquers sleep and takes control. We pass between and under more sleeping giants up California’s windy, icy highway 88, our excitement growing with each passing mountain. There are huge snow-banks on either side of the road, some taller than 20 feet, making us feel as if we are passing through a cave.

We begin our planning for the day ahead. Meeting places, runs to take, skill levels of boarders in question are all raised and dismissed in discussion. It’s the same schedule as everyday on the mountain: take as many runs as you can wherever you want and don’t die, you still got a few days of boarding left. None of us would have it any other way. Then, as we turn off the highway and begin our descent downhill it appears, the reward to the cold early morning, the infamous Kirkwood sign and slowly and in complete unison, we all raise our vision. Our eyes fall first on the lodge, then the lifts and then finally the bliss looming behind them, towering over us. Intimidating but still inviting, its runs and trees and bowls whisper "prove it, prove you can fly." We step out of the car with all of our gear and head towards the lifts, anticipating the adventure ahead.