This year marked my 40th year on skis. Considering all that practice, I'm the one with the most trip-to-date falls.

 

Scottie has improved the most on this trip and has developed his own style. Amazingly his methodical on-hill attack style is reminicent of his Grandad Jeff (without the audible "attack" sound echoing through canyon), but after a bit of coaching from his Dad we were able to break those habits and smooth out his turns.

 

Most of us now believe that the Beginner runs are mostly boring. The Intermediate runs are fun but not terribly challenging and the Advance runs are the best. By reading the trail map you would think that there are just three difficulties. But there is one unpublished difficulty level called the double diamond or Expert runs.

 

Scott thought he was ready. He decided late in the day when the shadows were long and the temperatures cooling. He declared that he wanted to ski the Ladies Downhill (off of KT22) which in my opinion is the steepest pitch on the mountain. That was the same hill I fell down the day before. And when I say I fell down the hill, I had a full on yard sale complete with a 100 yard slide down the hill leaving my skis back up the hill (to the cheers of the crowded chairlift enjoying my pain).

 

Eve had retired early and that left me as the parent in charge. The problem with Expert runs is that they always look easy from the lift and hard when you are standing up top. This Expert run didn't allow for anyone to change their mind after getting a good look. Scott didn't want to hear any of this.

 

I told Scott he wasn't ready and said that first he had to master a few other very short but very hard parts of the hill. I was confident that I could dissuade him by taking him down two patches with huge moguls. He moved slowly. Didn't fall and wasn't dissuaded.

Kevin egged him on, "Let's go, he'll be fine." Scott agreed. Dad relented to the sound of his wife's voice echo in his head, "You took him where?" as I called from the hospital.

 

We took the lift back up KT22 and had to ski through a phalanx of yellow signs with words like "warning", "experts only", "no easy way down", "unmarked obstacles" and other lawsuit inhibitors.

 

We skated around the back side on an easy little road until we were standing at the top of the Lady's Downhill. We had a great view of the Squaw Valley which was close enough to touch despite the fact that we were 2000 feet above the valley floor.

 

Scott took one look at the hill and declared that it was too hard and he started to cry. Crying is a great Harris skiing tradition. From what I remember there was crying for at least 10 of my 40 years of skiing. Not quite knowing how to handle the situation, I reverted to what my father did when I cried.  I shouted at the little bugger.  Come here! Point your skis there! When I say turn you turn! You are not allowed to think. Got it?

 

Through his muted weeps he nodded, while his brother jumped off the cornice hooting and hollering as he dropped 400 feet in a matter of moments.  "Come on Scottie it's easy" he taunted after completing the first pitch.

 

Scott traversed across the hill and declared his disappointment with the snow quality until he heard the boom! No, not the avalanche guns, it was his father yelling at him to turn. He did. That was followed by another "turn." And he did. And again. And again. And he was down 400 feet. He was ready to celebrate. I said that wasn't allowed because we still hadn't passed the part that fooled me and sent me sliding down the hill.

 

Scott completed the hill. No falls. His arms shot into the air in triumph. He looked back to admire his work. He was now an expert and I had avoided the hospital.