LOCALadk Magazine

Aaron + Jeremy, LOCALadk 18 brief. Picking your way down steep moguls and other obstacles on Olympic, Helmers, Barkeater, DeCamp, or even Skyride is what McCauley gifts to the skier learning to get past his or her comfort zone. The giant mountains of the high peak Adirondacks, New En- gland, or the West offer an infinite range for any skill, but if you find yourself at the top of the wrong black diamond in Utah, the path down may feel eternal. As a mountain for every member of the family, McCauley does not ask you to commit for long. Because, after all, the lodge* awaits. Clomping into the lodge, which always has a few empty picnic tables near its roaring fire, is like passing through a time portal into a favorite grandparent's kitchen. Our lunch is waiting on the deck, tucked under some snow in the same cooler my parents used 40 years ago. Instant soup, hot chocolate from the cafeteria, maybe a few sandwiches. Shake off the ice and snow, thaw a few pieces of gear by the fire, and refuel. Hank Kashiwa, Louie Ehrensbeck, and Mad- die Phaneuf are celebrated on the walls here, giving all young skiers, from my brother and me down to our own children, and everyone else who has passed through here, proof that Olympians often have very small beginnings. The sun shines hard through the enormous windows looking out over Playmate and Mighty Mite, the bunny hills. A few impossibly tiny little skiers, already grad- uated from harnesses and the ski tip clips, zip over the crest heading towards the T-bar or the double lift. We see the snow melting faster and note barely three hours left in our ski season. We plan the next few runs, together or apart, collect our gear from the hearth, and clomp out towards the ski racks. Clipping in, we stand in front of the Polar Bear sign, with all local businesses noted which help support the mountain's alpine and nordic teams. We push off, down the slope to the lift, and find ourselves in line behind five other McCauley die-hards. "This place is getting too crowded!" Ellie echoes what thousands of McCauley families have joked for decades. I let her go ahead of me as I tighten my boots, and watch as my middle child plops naturally down onto the same chair my parents hoisted me onto an eternity ago, and the same chair I expect my grandchildren to ride soon enough. And someday, I hope to race them down God's Land. My dad? He is waiting for his nose to heal. *Ellie once proclaimed, after a day of XC skiing, that "lodge" is the best word in the English language. Mark (Aaron's dad) on Slk yride in 1990. Aaron and his brother can be seen down the slope, entering God's L and.

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