Seems I've got my 13-year-old hooked on ski touring. A bit of a selfish endeavor on my part. I've put in my share of Little Mucker's and Gold Pan's over the years. Got to head out for some freshies every once in a while right? And if I can do that and be taking care of my kids then I'm on fire times two, right? You would think.
"Dad, when I get older I'm going to be a dirtbag skier hippy dude," he says to me as we approach the entrance to West Ymir. The snow is dancing in the bright February sun. It is, by all accounts, a perfect day. "I mean, why do I even go to school, everything I ever want to learn is right here."
I like this. I think. But it leaves me a little confounded. Am I doing the right thing by exposing my son to the idea of being a dirtbag skier hippy dude? I guess I was one, once. Maybe I still am. But it's hard not to have larger aspirations for the kid. Philosopher? Inventor? Filmmaker? Wait a minute, I know dirtbag hippy skier dudes and dudettes that are all those things. Sure, fine, of course he can do whatever he wants. Be whatever he wants. I'm just glad he loves to go for a tour on a sunny Sunday...with his dad.
I like this. I think. But it leaves me a little confounded. Am I doing the right thing by exposing my son to the idea of being a dirtbag skier hippy dude? I guess I was one, once. Maybe I still am. But it's hard not to have larger aspirations for the kid. Philosopher? Inventor? Filmmaker? Wait a minute, I know dirtbag hippy skier dudes and dudettes that are all those things. Sure, fine, of course he can do whatever he wants. Be whatever he wants. I'm just glad he loves to go for a tour on a sunny Sunday...with his dad.
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