Martin took us through hell and back; you even have to take off your skis at Sisters.

There were heaps of powder between Sisters.

It kept on snowing during the first April week, and it became clear that our spring break would be filled with skiing — although that particular (second) week was again forecast as quite warm. We left Hippo back home and set out on Saturday morning. Everything went according to plan, we reached the place before noon, I managed to contact Martin and Rumiko on the phone during lunch, and arrange a joint skiing with Bryce for the afternoon.

Sunday cleared up, so I even broke out my camera to document our expeditions, and I'm glad I did. Martin said that if Bryce wants a Kirkwood t-shirt as well, he would have to ski Sisters. I naively thought that we would traverse from Wall into the gully UNDER Sisters, but that was declared too cowardly. Hence, after taking pictures at the EXPERTS ONLY sign, we continued along the ridge until the spot where we had to take off our skis, run up about thirty feet between rocks and back down again on a bald top, to reach the proper place. There's a gap between Sisters where snow accumulates — in this case soft pillows of last week's powder.

The kids unexpectedly liked such undertaking so much that they asked to go again. And here I was afraid that they would find taking the skis off too strenuous! This time, Vendula and Pavel joined us, and they and Martin would jump from the highest cornice, while I with the children entered between the rocks from a side, where nothing worse could happen than falling into deep, soft "dawn".

Martin naturally went from the very top, unlike us traversing from below.

Julie had joined the gang of Experts on Monday.

Vendula and Pavel drove home on Sunday evening, and Luba with Julie and Oliver replaced them at our "cottage". Martin, Rumiko and Bryce stayed with us till Monday — I was curious what combinations would come up. Oliver does not ski a lot and is afraid, Julie, on the other hand, is rather quite athletic. Still, I had seen neither one of them skiing before, and thus we were bound to try a basic test on Monday morning — I took Luba with Oliver to the easiest slope at Timbercreek, meeting with the rest of the expedition, who arrived via the (in my opinion, inflated) black diamond Sentinel.

Martin (who as an adult accompanied the older children) had declared that Julie actually skis excellently and that she could stay with us in the advanced team, while Luba would take care of Oliver on beginners' slopes. Martin had prepared several treats for Monday — we took the kids jumping off a cornice and then to Backside, where one can, besides chair lift, use a Poma (surface tow) lift on one of the branch slopes, reaching the very edge of the ski resort. Of the kids, only Bryce had ridden on the Poma before, and he had a fitting comment that one does NOT SIT there. Perhaps because of his note, all children had managed relatively without problems. They, of course, asked for a second round, which went well again. That is, until the moment Martin had decided to drag us all into wilderness, where juniors expertly sifted through small groves and threaded among rocks, while I found myself beyond the limit of my skills. I could not keep up and take pictures, but later the whole expedition had to wait until I disentangled myself out of a small tree that somehow got in my way. There was soft snow around it, but the wood wasn't soft at all, and my head rang heavily despite my helmet. Not to mention strained muscles on my neck and shoulders.

Experts had to ski down a cornice...

...and learn to ride a poma lift.

When the children asked to return via Two-Man Shute, which is a double-black diamond terrain, I suggested cowardly to accompany Rumiko through Thundersaddle — one nasty fall was enough for the day, and I had a feeling that I was missing a portion of my bones and muscles, and would not be able to turn properly.

Alas, Martin had to leave on Monday, and the advanced team fell on me again on Tuesday. This meant that we were through with double black terrains — in a situation where I hardly keep myself up on my skis, I cannot take responsibility for the kids. Especially because some spots (practically the whole back side of the resort) lack cellular coverage and we could really get stranded without help. Oliver went to attend a ski school, so we collected Luba at Timbercreek, providing me with a backup for a part of the day in the form of another adult. I had also wanted to show Backside to her, and let her consider offering Oliver to ski there later with us. The advantage of Backside is a great variety of terrain, and one can combine less advanced skiers going on groomers with old hands taking natural, more complicated paths — and they would all converge at the lift.

We simply had to take Julia up on the Wall.

Spring is in full swing in the Valley (Fremont Peak).

Eventually we took Luba through Thundersaddle, to give her an idea of places we go with Julia, and how it feels to go away from groomed slopes. I had an ulterior motive, of course — showing off Kirkwood to Luba, and that it offers a wide variety of options, and lure her into buying season passes for the next year. The fact that we are too boring for our children had become obvious this year. Juniors repeated with the persistence of a broken record that they want friends along, and if there were no friends of theirs, after a hour or so their legs began to hurt and helmets began to constrict, and they started to act up in general. It seems they have outgrown the tiny apartment, and we would have to seek another solution — something encompassing multiple families, despite the loss of skiing opportunities and relative comforts. A rented single bedroom at Kirkwood is best for being right under the slopes, but this is naturally reflected in its price. For which, under less convenient conditions, on might be able to rent a much bigger house, able to accommodate more people — and then you have to drive to the resort. Trying to effect some savings, it's good to have season passes that begin to break even at skiing at least five days of the season — but for that one needs to know, which resort it would be. This must be determined in April of the previous season, when the discount is at its deepest.

On Wednesday, Oliver joined us skiing the back side of the mountain, Lisa accompanied him and Luba, who both wanted to stay on groomed slopes. Honestly, I was not surprised. Temperatures hiked up to sixty (F) in the course of the day, and snow turned into heavy, sticky goo. We hurried to the lifts in the morning as soon as they opened, did not waste time cooking lunches packing sandwiches instead, and by two in the afternoon we got tired of poking this deep cotton-like mass, and returned home. Fortunately our children still seem to appreciate playing in the snow, and they spent hours and hours on the meadow behind the house, coming back completely soaking wet. Unfortunately, Luba had to leave on Wednesday evening, and we were again on our own with Tom and Lisa.

Even the mountains are abloom (Woodfords).

A bit lower than Kirkwood and there's no trace of snow.

It kept getting warmer still and the children did not quite enjoy skiing with their mother, now that they just had several good days with their friends. Thus Sid and I decided that he would not drive out to meet us in the resort; instead, we came down the mountain on Friday, to spend the weekend together as a family — and doing something else than skiing. On Sunday we mounted our bikes and set out on a six mile route to Pho Wagon, one of our favorite Vietnamese restaurants. We had tested this one before in the fall, but then the kids had refused to paddle back home; this time they got no choice and eventually it went pretty well. We were actually surprised how even in the final uphill section, there was no whimpering and obnoxiousness. This we attribute mostly to recent skiing practice, after all we had covered a lot of ground throughout the winter, which must have affected our fitness and stamina.

On the following Friday I drove up to the mountains alone, just with an empty car, to have enough room within for all our stuff. Still I was packing one extra backpack — my climbing one. During my night-time driving, I had my radio on (finally something adult!) and when another same-color subaru passed me by shortly after the freeway off-ramp, I began enjoying it even more. Pavel was driving that one, and so I could follow him comfortably all the way up, driving behind someone who knows the road like the back of his hand, and who would scare off wandering deer. I got there a lot less tired than usual (it's two hundred miles, and that normally wears me out).

I put on my skis in the morning for the sheer principle of it — whenever I'm at Kirkwood, and there's enough snow, I simply MUST ski — but already before noon I packed it in, converged with Pavel at the "cottage" and we went climbing. Woodfords is a bit lower than Kirkwood, and spring had already begun there; no snow in sight. Still in shade it was cold enough to warrant a dawn jacket. And unfortunately, unlike with biking, I cannot say that the ski season would have improved my climbing — especially since my shoulder still hurt from my duel with the little pine tree.

While I was cleaning at Kirkwood, Hippo and the kids visited the Monterey Aquarium.

April 20 is probably our pool record.

Vendula and Pavel helped me put stuff in my car in the evening and I endured a night drive back home. Skiing had been lousy and Easter Sunday was coming; I felt that I would be more useful at home. Strangely, even the trip home turned out easy. I was afraid of getting tired, but finished it without an incident. I even remembered Easter eggs for the kids and set them up in the house (we really couldn't manage to organize a yard egg hunt). And I wasn't alone thinking we should celebrate Easter — when I stumbled out of my bed on Sunday to have breakfast, I found Lisa's stuffed bunnies arranged all over the house, decorated with Lisa's beads and necklaces. I think that Lisa had waited the whole day before admitting her involvement to Tom. He was suspecting it, but needed to be SURE.

We don't celebrate Easter any more than that, so we took our bikes and, since I was such a great success before, rode to have a lunch at Pho Wagon again. Then the kids begged for a bonus in the form of a cheese cake and — the swimming pool. They claimed being awfully hot and having to cool off immediately. Well, it was warm alright, and the pool was quite icy, so I allowed it, convinced that they'd rush in about knee-deep and then get out again with much squealing. I was wrong — Tom and Lisa didn't just swim properly, they dove and played for a rather long time, before becoming frigid enough to be forced out. I think that swimming on April 20 is aspiring to be one of our records (going back through our pictures, our previous earliest case was April 27 of 2008). I hope it does not mean that we get another insanely hot summer like back then.