I think for a lot of people, our first skiing memories involve our parents. For myself, my first 'pizzas' were with my dad in Whitefish, Montana. My dad is the one who taught me how to ski and who I spent the most time with on the slopes.
As time has gone on, I’ve found myself skiing more with my university friends and less with my family. This is in part due to accessibility of those around me, not being always in the same area as my family, and sometimes just scheduling conflicts. This year, I wanted to find more ski outings with my dad again. Between a sprained ankle for me, a pulled shoulder for him, this happened less than I had hoped. However, a week before closing weekend, our injuries healed and we were able to head out to Lake Louise together.
My dad hadn’t had an opportunity to try the Red Ski yet, so I brought out a pair of demos for him. I knew I was going to to receive an honest answer regarding them so I was pretty excited to hear his thoughts.
I really forgot how much I love skiing with my dad. When I heard him whooping, hollering, and yelling, I knew he was enjoying himself. That’s also because I am probably one of the loudest skiers on the mountain. My friends joke “if you can’t hear Becky, something bad has happened to her.”
After chasing him for a few laps, I got the review:
“These skis are like a sports car! I’m totally sold.”