Thursday, February 18, 2010

Snow



This past Monday we drove to the snow. Since the mighty rainstorms that have hit Los Angeles, the mountains have been white and majestic around Los Angeles. The city looks more like Salt Lake or Seattle, and I feel a lift in my heart every time I see the snowy peaks.

So on President's day we joined a group of parents organized by Stephanie Hubbard, mother extraordinaire who invented Green Sundays and is committed to getting Larchmont kids out into nature to feel it, live it, smell it and be in it. I love her endeavor.

She chose a spot called Frazier Park, up the five past Gorman--away from all the snowy peaks we had seen all week. We drove for 45 minutes up into the grapevine and did not see a speck of white. I was starting to get worried. But we pulled off the freeway, wound through a forgotten California valley and the snow was there, almost to the edge of the road. We bought our adventure pass and started up the mountain. There were pines everywhere, and feet of snow. We had our cheap plastic sleds in the back, and a big carrot in case we decided to make a snowman.

The boys could barely contain themselves. Every few minutes they would cry out: Let us just get out and touch it! Just for a minute! We want to feel it! Benji--who has a snow obsession -- kept saying, "It doesn't look real!"

We drove for what seemed like forever until we came to a parking lot on top of the mountain. There is no ski resort, and no restaurant. Not even a vending machine. Just woods, and trails. There were miles and miles of cross country ski trails, snowshoing families, and a log cabin that said "Nordic Ski," but was closed.

Perfect.

We got on our snow clothes and pulled out our cheap tobaggans. We went up a little way, then a little more. Benji was riding backwards and the rides were fast. There was a huge mountain of plowed snow to stop you at the bottom, but I felt like at high speeds you could fly right over the snowplowed pile and launch into the air, to land on a car in the parking lot.

I should add, that in the last two years, two of friends sons have had horrible sledding accidents. One boy ran into a tree stump and smashed up his face, the other--I don't know--ran into a tree?

Both are OK, and they are young, so they have grown back beautiful.

But sledding here is not like the East Coast. You are sledding in slick, icy conditions on new fast sleds that have no real steering capabilities. We were all novices.

One cool mother took herself and her twin girls up high--the highest any of us had gone -- on our little baby slope. The slop was so slick you could barely hold the sled to get on. They all got on and let it fly. They were heading for the trees at high speeds. This was not an Olympic video. This was real. The mother's head whipped around and missed a pine tree by inches. We parents on the slope were still recovering from the close call when she ran over my first son. He got bonked and rolled to the side. I was running to get him when she ran into Benji, 4.

The sled rammed into him, he rolled under it (it is not blades, but slippery rubbery plastic) He rolled, banged against the ground, then got dragged about 30 feet on the slope. The sled stopped and my boy was still. I ran. I ran to him. I felt sick. I pulled him up. Was he broken? Braindead? I prayed he was OK.

I sat him up. He was not crying or unconscious. But his eyes were shooting off to the right, not quite rolling back in his head, and he wasn't speaking. Oh, I felt sick. I cannot describe the feeling. His pupils were tiny, not dilated. Then he started to cry. To cry and cry and cry. But that was good! We held up fingers. He could count.

I took him back to the car and made a little nest in the sunshine and fed him food. He was like a tiny wounded woodland animal. Did he have a concussion? Was he brain damaged? It didn't seem like it. The woman who had hit him was just sick.

He was OK.

That is the upshot. And within the hour he was back on a mini slope sledding again. With me checking every course this time and helicoptering like I never had before.

That was the first close call.

After lunch we went to a new spot, a beautiful meadow away from the parking lot. No trees. Just a big bowl. It seemed like nothing could go wrong. But I was not going to leave things to chance this time. I walked the course, and calculated how far a toboggan could go. It seemed safe. I talked to some people. Benji had his courage back and I wanted to encourage him. He begged to ride a little yellow saucer so he could spin. Some Dads said if he went down he would stop at the bowl at the bottom. He could not go farther. So I took him part way down the hill, put him on the saucer, got him criss-cross apple sauce, and let him go. He flew.

He flew so fast it scared me so I started running after him. He started going backwards. He was picking up speed. He was not stopping in the bowl. He swished around, I was sprinting, sprinting through the snow. There was a tiny dip, then another trail through the woods I had not checked out because I did not want him to go down. He flew down backwards and flew over the lip--with me in hot pursuit. I tripped and flew through the air and landed spread-eagled on the ice, my sun glasses somewhere in the woods. My son was gone. I felt like God was punishing me. I felt weak.

I raised my head. A line of parents looked up. "He is OK!" they shouted. He had gone over the lip into a chute and fallen off.

I grabbed him and held him so tight. I cannot explain the feeling.

I took Theo down one more time, and we did the chute. In the end, it was fun, and nothing could have gone wrong.

But California sledding is different. The snow melts then freezes. The new sleds are faster and impossible to steer. It is crazy.

In the end it was the most beautiful day. The forest was glorious, the snow magical.

Benji sat at dinner and said he was grateful for sledding, and asked when we could go again.

So he is not damaged. Perhaps only me. The mother who almost lost her boy twice in one day.

This is a fun fall.


This is a happy boy.

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