Almost everything that happened on our recent trip to sample Utah's ski
slopes and hideaways had me calling up an adage from the Mike Thiel Book of
Travel Aphorisms: The happiest travelers go with the flow.
The notion of reconnecting with my son, Michael, for a few day on the slopes
evaporated when he injured his knee snowboarding. The anticipation of great
snow conditions melted with more El Nino fallout—an early spring. We
had a three-hour snow delay in Boston and then were greeted with balmy weather
at Sundance, our first stop.
We settled into our cottage in Robert Redford's mountain resort, where the
simplicity seems to cast a meditative state on its guests, and awoke to see the
first skiers heading for newly groomed trails.
Travel-weary and not sure what "Plan B" would look like, we
headed to the Foundry Grill and a big country breakfast. Gail, the inveterate
celeb watcher, hoped to add Sundance's owner to her list of close encounters
with the gliterrati. Uninspired to ski without a buddy, I lingered over breakfast with Gail and Michael, taking in the view of Mt. Timpanogos.
By the time we'd finished, it was noon. Gail decided to check out a pottery
class at Sundance's Art Center, and an incapacitated Michael curled up with a
book. I opted for a sport in keeping with my mellow Sundance mood.
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