With a trip to the Snowbowl under our belts and a newfound sense of confidence in our abilities (didn’t take much… ANY practice was a bonus after four years off skis), it was time to take ourselves on a real ski trip. In one of those rare cases where plans come together effortlessly, and somewhat coincidentally, we were able to sync our trip with that of friends, we were off to Breckenridge.
As a kid we spent every Spring Break skiing Steamboat. Every year from the time I was three until college. (It suddenly just clicked as to why I’m such a creature of habit at heart.) I vaguely recall us trying, but ultimately nay-saying other ski resorts. As a family, Steamboat was it for us as it held so many happy memories. Not to say we didn’t branch out eventually. Tahoe became the new venue of choice as we got much older and gorgeous as that is, I was ready to head back to Colorado and experience a brand new town in a new way.
Well, since you ask. ‘I love Breckenridge because…’
a) Must give props to our big group of friends and ski companions for the weekend. We had two houses full of people that totally MADE this trip.
b) Apres ski. Hands down the best part of every day. Vodka with cherries, please.
c) The town and being able to walk from ‘home’ to the slopes, restaurants, bars, shops… you name it. We miss that every day in AZ so to have some semblance of city life (however small) was FUN.
I usually limit myself to a,b, and c, but I have to throw in a d) here – the change of pace. A tinge of hippie plus the very chilled locals (aka functioning potheads) was a nice contrast to our norm.