My Dad and I often have long conversations about solving the world's problems. They can go pretty deep sometimes. I cherish these kinds of conversations with him. He is a wise man, and I am grateful to learn from him. He also taught me to ski when I was five years old. He taught me to ski powder when I was nine years old at Vail. He gave me the keys to the rig that has drove me to where I am today. I was able to return the favor a little with getting him into the backcountry and learning to tour in and around avalanche terrain. We typically stay on small slopes and short approaches, because it makes for a more enjoyable day as my Dad began touring when he was sixty years old. He says that he wishes he had found touring twenty-five years ago, and I just laugh and say that he was still too busy teaching me to ski in Wisconsin to have the time to get access and learn. He and my mom were married young and had kids pretty young too by today's standards. My dad never got to move out west and charge like many of his friends did. I am glad he can still take advantage of it now. "Better late then never" is what we always end up with when that topic comes up on the skin track. My dad came into town along with a big storm, and we got a chance to do some charging.
^The moose at Snowbasin shows the morning's
