the greatest generation
March 12, 2012
When I was but a wee lad of about 15 years old, my dad took my brother Steve and me to the Philmont scout camp, in New Mexico.
We didn’t want to go. Not because Philmont isn’t awesome, because it is. But I was 15, and I wanted to hang with my friends, go to the lake, and generally lounge.
But my dad insisted, we drove from Minnesota, towing a little tent trailer, to New Mexico. Once we got there, we got to pick from a variety of 4 day backpacking tours (not my dad, just me, Steve, a couple friends who met us there, and some wilderness survival guide guy).
Did we pick the giant, awesome, gnarly tour? Of course not. We picked the shortest, easiest route, with the least elevation gain. And we whined every step of the way.
Why do I tell you how lame and stupid I was as a teenager?
Friday, I asked Holden (13 years old) if he wanted to hike and ski Lone Peak.
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I look at that mountain every day from my school. I’ve always wanted to ski that giant half pipe. When can we go?”
The rising generation rocks.
We had breakfast at 5am, before we headed out, then stopped after a couple hours for second breakfast.
Holden, admiring the sunrise (in his own way):
Enjoying second breakfast:
We took our time, and stopped for Elevensies somewhere short of the top.
We maybe took the hobbit pace a little too literally, and it got pretty warm on us earlier than expected, so we stopped just shy of the ridge, and got ready to ski Heaven’s Halfpipe. The corn was a little overdone, and got a bit grabby here and there on the down.
Notice the camera on my head? I know it’s not as easy to see as those giant GoPros, but it’s there.
Here’s what it captured (notice the part where it captured the slightly overcooked nature of the corn and its effect on my skiing):
We have a new candidate for the Greatest Generation.