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.

Fall/Winter 1998