Slippery Slopes

It has been abnormally cold in Florida over the past couple of weeks. Last night it got down to 30 degrees at my house, the coldest night I have experienced here since I moved in 1996.

With the low temps, I have been thinking back to a time many years ago when I couldn't wait for the cold weather to arrive, the beginning of ski season.

God's Country is in the far northeast corner of Georgia, at the foothills of the Appalachian Trail. It gets cold in those mountains and each year we would have one or two really pretty snowfalls that blanketed the horizon.

When we built our house, mama's main wish was to have a wall of windows that she could sit in front of and watch the snows fall, she got those windows and we have watched many a snow shower from within the confines of that home.

In the 70s a group of developers built the southern most ski resort in our county, Sky Valley. It was a beautiful Alpine inspired resort with huge arching windows, intricate wood carvings and probably the smallest ski slope known to man.

With only a couple of snowfalls per year, Sky Valley utilized man made snow to keep it running. Once the temp hit 28 the big snow machines would be brought out and a base of ice (not really snow) would cover the slopes and the season would begin.

I began snow skiing when I was 11 or 12. I loved to slide down those icy slopes over and over again. Through many passes and slides, I became a pretty good skier.

Nothing was more exciting during those days than a school's out, snow day. Coach and Mrs. Singleton would pick me up early in the morning and joined by John, their son and an assortment of other friends we would pile into their old Scout and head for the slopes.

Piled into the Scout like a bunch of sardines in an aluminum can, we would make our way up the ice covered roads. Slipping and sliding the whole way. No seat belts, no airbags, basically a rag tag vehicle making our way up the mountain.

Once we arrive at Sky Valley we would spend the whole day going up and down that tiny slope. Some wonderful friendships were formed there and memories that will last me forever.

At the end of the day, mama and daddy would pick us up in our Jeep Cherokee. Another rag tag vehicle with no seat belts, no air bags and we would slide our way back down the hill.

Over the years mama, daddy and the Singletons made that trip hundred of times. Many times when they probably shouldn't have, but their boys wanted to do it, so they did.

I can still taste the hot chili from the lodge dining room and feel the cold air hitting my face as we made our way to the top of the hill on a chairlift.

My love for snow skiing continued through high school and into my first year of college. Those were great times, innocent and exciting.

Today, Sky Valley is a shell of its former self, it is sad to see how things have changed there, but my memories of that time will always keep me warm when the temperature dips.