wintergreen, va | swoon

from an outlook on the mountain

wintergreen, va | paperyrain.com

we found a (drooling) snow bear

wintergreen, va | paperyrain.com

the slopes

wintergreen, va | paperyrain.com

apple cidery with fire pits and a view

wintergreen, va | paperyrain.com

coolest snow bear I know

Matthew and I recently got invited to head to the mountains with some friends and naturally, we jumped at the chance (partly because of the mountains and our friends, but mostly to visit with the cool dude in the glasses). The condo we stayed in was their families’ condo; it was so cozy and set up to ski out on the mountain (basically a winter’s weekend dream). You might be envisioning roaring fires, ski lifts, and hitting the slopes right about now..and if you are, you nailed the roaring fire part. I have to fess up, we never went skiing. The only time we actually got out on the mountain was to let little man run loose in the snow. Now before you judge, I have a legit excuse (besides eating too much, being too lazy, and hitting too many local breweries and cideries).

The last time Matthew and I went skiing, we decided pretty firmly it would be our last. We had gone skiing with Matthew’s best friend in West Virginia. The first night, we decided to go tubing. As I was going down the hill, I popped off the tube like a piece of popcorn popping (say that 3 times fast). My tube kept going (naturally, I got the little tube that could) and I fell in the exact same spot I popped from. I had to slide down the rest of the hill on my bum, in front of everyone on the mountain. Strike one.

The next day, we decided to hit the slopes for some skiing. Things were going great to start (french fries to go, pizza to stop). We had been skiing separately and after lunch, we decided we should all head up a slope together. Mark, Matthew’s friend, and I skied up to the lift and got seated. Matthew was having a hard time moving his legs apparently, and the lift started to go without him. In a last stitch effort to get on the lift, he tried to jump around the side and he obviously didn’t make it (go go gadget legs isn’t a real thing, for the record). Not only did he not make it, but he wiped out, lost a pole, and the whole lift was stopped for about 3 minutes. When a 6’5″ man falls that hard, you laugh hysterically, unless you are that man. Strike two.

We finally made it to the top and started heading back down. Mark is a great skier so he was on his way and was probably at the bottom by the time we were 1/4th of the way down. Matthew, with one pole and one injured pride, was trying to prove he could stay upright. Turns out, the odds weren’t in his favor. He went down hard, a little ahead of me, while his other pole went up. Unfortunately for me, it landed right in front of where I was skiing and I have zero skills, so I couldn’t get around it. I lost my balance and slammed down on the side of the path. I actually hit my head super hard, so I laid there for a minute. I’d like to think the snow board guy who zoomed up thought I fell gracefully and thought he would help me, but it was probably because I flailed like a noodle in the wind and he had genuinely never seen anything like it. No matter how he ended up near me asking if I was ok, it took about 10 seconds for him to ask, see that I had literally knocked the snot out of myself and it was all over my face, and he decided I was fine. He left faster than butter melting in Georgia. Strike three and one additional for the nail in the coffin.

Needless to say, a snowy mountain, for us, is perfect for eating, enjoying the views, roasting marshmallows, and cuddling snow bears (and definitely not for scaring snowboarders and setting a record for most equipment lost).

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