Our Wonderful Weekend

Given our family's past seven days, it came as no surprise that a cancelled trip for AKontheGO brought sighs of relief rather than disappointment. With few weekends when we are not going someplace, the prospect of two days with no agenda felt just right.

Since Bear gets out of school early on Friday afternoons, a few friends and I have established a routine whereby we bring snacks, warm clothes, and in this case, sleds and skis, and take over a local trail or hill.

Temperatures hovered near 38 as we spent some time sledding on a blistering-fast hill at Russian Jack Springs Park in northeast Anchorage, a wooded, hilly golf course during the two summer months and one of my favorite running spots. The park turns into a hugely popular Nordic ski area and sledding area in the winter, with lighted trails and enough terrain for the whole family, and so we love Russian Jack for its proximity and warm chalet at the end of the day.

Bear and I took a rare mom-kid time out, sledding together and laughing hysterically at the grains of snow that shot, pellet-like, into our eyes and mouths as I desperately tried to keep us from running off the hill and into the wild rose-laden woods. Prickers, you know.

The kids decided at about the same time they wanted to ski, so off came snow boots and on went Nordic boots and the skinny skis. Bear took off almost immediately, showing off for the girls by climbing up and skiing down a nearby hill. We grownups didn't coach, didn't nag, didn't do anything, really, except watch and praise and comment to ourselves, "This is the way skiing ought to be; letting kids discover confidence all by themselves." Yep. Indeed, that was the case.

The Family K. slept in, went to a birthday party, and watched me shoot a promotional video for the Alaska Travelgram Show (I'll put it up later) out at Potter Marsh, where the light was lovely and the scene positively serene. Amazing.

We found out today that our temperatures will drop down to near zero tonight and for the next few days, meaning more work to stay warm when outside. How low can we go? We'll see.

Night Skiing

We've created a monster. Thanks to REI and an incredibly savvy department manager, Bear is now the proud owner of his own Alpina boots and skis, with an attitude to match. Now able to participate in Nordic lessons through our lovely Parks and Recreation department, Bear will join other 4-5 year olds in a once-a-week "lesson" (I use this term very loosely; I used to be a ski instructor)on the finer points of cross-country skiing. Yukon and I thought it was high time he got some skinny boards in preparation for his January class. Problem is, we can't get them off the child.

After two or three trips around the neighborhood during the daylight hours, and a lasagne dinner to fortify his little body, Bear announced that he wanted Yukon to take him skiing. Right Now. To the park.

In a flashback to my own Nordic ski opportunities, I recalled a four-day excursion to Sun Mountain Lodge in Winthrop, WA as a child, where we went on a night-skiing adventure with the good-looking ski guide and then were relagated to the Lodge lobby while said guide, his wife, and our parents spent a few hours indulging in Apres' Ski beverages while we noshed on cookies and Shirly Temples, but I digress.

Wanting my own son to experience the mystery of skiing at night without the benefit of Alpine-area lighting, Yukon and I wholeheartedly endorsed the plan, stuffed Bear into his Carhartt overalls (yes, we ski in our Carhartts in Alaska, who cares what we look like?), headlamp, hat and mittens. The boys took off down the street and I was momentarily stopped for a second, watching my youngest navigate his skis and poles, remembering skiing adventures with my own dad.

Gone for about 30 minutes, I could tell they were coming back from the sound of "Angels We Have Heard On High" wafting from around the corner (Bear is practicing constantly for his debut as a sheep Christmas Eve). I opened the window and before I could even say "hello" a little voice shouted up to me.

"Mommy, we saw moose eyes at the park!!"

Now how can anyone compete with that? It's not every day one sees moose eyes and not the rest of the moose.

Hitting the Slopes, Preschooler-Style

After four years of waiting, watching, and wondering if my second son was going to show any interest at all in downhill skiing, I finally have my answer.

Yes, as long as his "Girlie" is along for the ride.

Little Bear's best friend happens to be the daughter of our good and faithful friends, a nice thing all the way around, especially if the two buddies carry out their future plans to get married (someday, "as soon as we can drink coffee").

Yesterday we all piled into the cars and drove onto the grounds of Elmendorf Air Force Base (it pays to have friends in the military), and onto Hillberg Ski Area, a lovely complex designed to meet the needs of winter-loving Alaskan military families. There we outfitted the littlest skiers with gear and proceeded to the Bunny Hill.

I am happy to report that a good time was had by all, the weather was absolutely gorgeous, and nobody had any meltdowns on the hill. Apres ski was a different matter, but that's beside the point.

After schussing down the slight incline and trying out the rope tow, Bear had enough and went sledding with dad on the adjacent hill, giving me a chance to freeski with the older kids.

Afterwards, we gathered together to share a pre-St. Patrick's Day dinner; corned beef, cabbage, the works. And some darned good beer that must have been brewed just for a day like this...

Baby, It's Cold Outside

It would have been prudent for us to check the thermometer before we ventured out this morning. The opportunity for a few hours of skiing while Bear was at a birthday party must have made us crazy, because when we drove past the Alaska Public Safety building at 10 a.m., the thermometer registered -10.

This conjured up all sorts of interesting questions. Did we or did we not dress warm enough for a minus 10 ski in Anchorage? Were the handwarmers, and even more critical, the flask, in the backpack? Cross-country skiing is a vigorous workout, usually requiring the shedding of a layer or two halfway into the ski, even at very cold temperatures. However, this morning was bitter. I like that word, it sounds just like the day felt.

The sun was shining eventually, but even so, my fingers felt detached from my hands. Even with the handwarmers. Our breath froze onto our jackets, and my chin was so numb I couldn't carry on a decent conversation with my date. Two laps around the forest were enough for us. But I wouldn't have traded this 45 minute ski for even a seat in a cozy coffee house. Date days are too far between.

Winterized

I am searching the Thesaurus for appropriate terms to describe today. Brilliant, shining, rich, magnificent, glorious.....

After two days of snow that dumped almost a foot of fluffy white stuff upon Anchorage, the sun came out for its five hours of glory today. And what a show the day had for us.

Although the temperature hovered near zero almost all day, we decided to take advantage of the nice weather and shuttle the crew off to nearby Goose Lake, bordering the University of Alaska Anchorage campus. A popular venue for running, boating, swimming, and moose watching during the summer, the lake also boasts fabulous cross country ski trails and three skating rinks, upon which anyone can take a spin. Owned by the Municipality of Anchorage, and thus maintained by such, the rinks are hot-mopped on a regular basis (a low-budget type of Zamboni ice maintenance thing) so that the ice is smooth and utterly delicious to skate on, especially in such a setting.

Little Bear was eager to ski today, thank goodness, and strapped on the boards with little urging. He followed us around the snowy trees and onto the lake itself, and from there the lure of ice took over. Taking off his skis, he borrowed (well, okay, demanded) a ski pole and slid and stomped around the rink.

Wolf utilized his multi-sport talent and clicked into his skis immediately upon arrival, disappearing into the forest. It is interesting that a kid who struggles with coordination with so many things can be so fluid upon skis or skates, and for that we are thankful. He ditched the ski boots and put on his figure skates for a few spins around the rink while Yukon and I took turns skiing across Goose Lake and along its shoreline.

An interesting side note is the Lake's proximity to the Iditarod trail. One of the best places to watch the first leg of the race is right along the trails near the University of Alaska Anchorage.

Today I finally felt like we are supposed to feel in Alaska, after a staggered winter's start with little snow and crummy weather. We went outside, we got cold, our noses ran, and we were the kind of tired that only comes from breathless activity. Perfect.