Tonight, she skis with the trees..

The Laconic Australian, it turns out, is far less composed when you strap two elongated pieces of plastic to his feet and send him screaming down a mountainside. Me-time mark three was a stunning day of skiing in Lake Tahoe, at the Kirkwood Mountain Resort. There’s a superb ski shuttle company called the Bay Area Ski Bus that, for a mere $163, picks you up from Oakland or San Francisco, runs you down to Tahoe, includes lift ticket, ski hire, a day on the slopes, and then drops you home again with films and snacks to boot. 

The Kirkwood Mountain, from the parking lot.

 We got onto the bus from the Rockridge BART at half five in the morning. I was out cold instantly, on the shoulder of the bemused man next to me, and by the time I resurfaced we were in Tahoe. After the bus paused to put chains on the wheels we were heading up a mountain road- it had been snowing for two days previously and the trees were weighed down with a thick layer of frosting. Whenever you see ads for skiing or winter sports, it’s very easy to suspect the pictures are touched up, but out there on the mountain the sky really is that bright, china blue. Friends and family back in the U.K are sick of the sight of snow after a very bitter winter, but stateside the novelty had nowhere near worn off. 

Far side of the mountain!

The bus arrived at the resort at 9:30, and by 10am the Laconic Australian and I were making the first run of the day. A very fine, almost crystalline snow was still falling, and it was early enough that the runs were still very smooth. The terrain at Kirkwood is chiefly intermediate, with lots of blue runs full of unexpected inclines, and trees in every direction. It shortly transpired that the Laconic Australian’s favourite pastime was to vanish unexpectedly among thickets of pine. I’d never tried skiing among trees before, and for the first couple of runs followed enthusiastically in his wake, before eventually accepting that the narrow routes always left me face-down in a snowbank. 

The ski lifts run over to the far side of the mountain, which takes roughly half an hour, not including runs, and in the course of the morning the Laconic Australian and I skied as far as the resort’s border. A favourite route was the ‘Happiness’ trail, which had a perfect combination of wide runs and narrower twisted terrain; steep enough to get a decent speed without the imminent consequence of a broken neck. ‘Juniper’ and ‘Whisky Side’ saw us safely back to the base camp in the afternoon, and we spent the last couple of hours on the wider terrain that fed directly back to the mountain village. All in all we spent about six hours on the slopes, and looking at the terrain map I feel as though we barely scratched the surface. 

 Incredible value for money, a fantastic resort and a brilliant day. If time and money allow, I’ll definitely be going back. 

Laconic Australian, on a base camp run