save the wells: Almost Heaven, West Virginia

Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West Virginia, Mountain Mama
Take me home, country roads

- John Denver

Four weeks ago, Max's primary teacher asked Shayla and I if we could teach his class in a couple weeks as he was going to be out of town for the MLK Jr. weekend. Three weeks ago, his wife invited Shayla and the rest of our family to spend that same weekend with them at their cabin in West Virginia. Three weeks ago, we told Max's primary teacher that we wouldn't be able to teach his class anymore as we were going to be spending the weekend at a cabin in West Virginia. Two weeks ago, we spent the MLK Jr. weekend with Max's primary teacher and his family at their cabin in West Virginia.

The cabin, a rustic but comfortable place with water that tastes like iron is perched on a hillside just a few miles from Canaan Ski Resort (pronounced Ka-NANE, as opposed to the biblical KAY-nun). We didn't leave our home until Friday evening when I got off work, so by the time we got on the highway it was already dark. The weather forecast called for snow, but it didn't sound too imposing. A thirty percent chance, if I recall correctly. We made it into West Virginia about two hours later, and after passing through a few small towns we came to a series of switchbacks that wound up the mountain.

By this point, small flurries had started drifting down from the dark night sky. Halfway up the mountain (mind you, these mountains are small, so it was only about five minutes later), the entire road surface was covered with about an inch of snow. The road grade was quite steep, so I was somewhat worried about the tires slipping on our front wheel drive minivan, which would effectively halt our progress and probably force us to retreat down the slippery road.

An SUV was driving in front of us, so although the snow was coming down hard I was quite comfortable driving in their tracks, keeping up my momentum. About three-quarters of the way up the switchbacks, the SUV suddenly stopped. I pulled up alongside them to see if they were ok, and they replied that they were just putting it into four wheel drive. Not wanting to stay in the oncoming traffic lane of a snow-covered, winding road, I moved passed them and continued up the mountain. Luckily the tires on our van didn't slip and we made it to the top safely.

By now, the snow on the road was a couple inches deep. It continued to come down hard and now that we were up on the top of the mountain, the winds howled outside around us. There were several times where I was sure the gusting winds would hit the broadside of our van, forcing us to slide sideways.

We still had about thirty miles to travel, and the snow just kept coming down and the winds grew fiercer and fiercer. I honestly love driving in this kind of weather. I've done it several times while we lived in Logan or while driving to go snowboarding in Utah. I do have to admit though, that this time I was a bit nervous. Not because I doubted my blizzard driving skills, but because we were headed somewhere we had never been. If something out of my control happened (flat tire, getting stuck in a snowdrift covering the road, meeting a stretch of highway just too steep to afford our van's tires any traction, etc), I didn't know how far it was to the next town. I didn't know how many other cars would be driving out on the highway at night in that storm, and I didn't want to have to face the task of keeping my kids and family warm and safe on top of a mountain while winter gave us everything she had. Plus, the remoteness of our location (or maybe just the fact that we were in West Virginia) meant we had no cell phone service. That's why I was just a bit nervous.

I recalled scenes from my childhood when my family was traveling on a lonely stretch of Utah highway in the middle of December. Our van—a blue Plymouth Voyager that seemed to constantly have problems—broke down and we sat huddled in the cold alongside the highway. Fortunately, after several vehicles passed us by, a traveler on his way home stopped and helped. But before he stopped, I remember the cold. It was everywhere. I'm sure my father's mind raced as he tried to think up solutions to help our situation. And I didn't want to replicate that again as I was now the father of my own family.

We continued along the highway. The snow kept falling and accumulating on the roadway. There was now several inches beneath the van's tires. Our van actually did remarkably well. It maintained constant traction except for a short stretch up a steep grade, where the tires would occasionally slip. Of course, I'm sure it helped that we were only moving along at about 15 or 20 miles per hour.

Finally, we passed the ski resort and had only three more miles to go. At about ten-o-clock, our three hour trip turned five hour trip came to an end. We rolled up the snow-coated dirt drive to the cabin where our friends had just arrived and we piled inside to the warmth of the fireplace.

Our friends, Brooke and Karson, have four kids (as do we), and they are all very similarly aged to ours, so it was great to have a weekend where they could all just run around and play. That night they were all excited to be there and they ran around the cabin. I think we finally got them all into bed and asleep sometime after 1:00 am. The late night didn't seem to make any difference and they were all back up and running around again by 7:30 the next morning.

After breakfast, we packed up snow gear and lunches and drove up to the ski resort. We rented skis for the kids and then took turns hitting the slopes. Shayla and Brooke staked claim to an area inside the lodge to help corral the younger kids while Karson and I took the older kids out on the snow. Isla was a natural and picked up sliding on her skis really quickly. Max took a little longer. He retreated back to the lodge to spend some time with Shayla while Isla and I honed her skills.

A little while later, after Isla had become a little over-confident in her ability to go fast, face planted in the snow and decided to call it quits. We went back in the lodge and met up with the others. Shayla and I ditched our kids with Brooke and Karson and then we took our snowboards out for a run. For an eastern US mountain, it was actually pretty fun. The mountain reminded me somewhat of the Navajo side of Brian Head, for anyone who has skied that southern Utah resort. It wasn't overly steep, but the snow was good. After just one run we went back inside the lodge and swapped places with Brooke and Karson, taking reign over all the kids while they went out on the snow.

A while later, I took both Max and Isla back out. Max got the hang of skiing this time and loved it. Isla did too. She went down the beginner run several times without falling. She loved going fast and several times would ask me to push her to help her increase her speed. Max figured it out pretty quickly too and by the end of the day both Max and Isla could make it all the way down the short, hundred-yard slope without falling, and without any help from me.

When the lifts finally closed for the day neither Max nor Isla wanted to stop. I'm glad they both enjoyed it and I really think we are going to have to go back again sometime.

Although the skiing was done, our time at the cabin was not. The next day was Sunday so we spent a relaxing day at the cabin. The kids all played outside in the snow and when they weren't outside, we all played blocks or watched movies inside.

On Monday, Brooke and Karson decided to take their kids for a half day of skiing and Shayla and I decided to take ours ice skating on the outdoor pond at the resort. When we got there however, the cold winds were blowing strong so we skipped out on the ice skating and headed inside the lodge for some ice cream and cupcakes. We played around for a bit, hit the gift shop, and then headed for home.

The drive home started out much more timidly than the drive there. The roads had been cleared of all the snow and the sun shone brightly, illuminating everything that we had passed before on our drive through the blizzard a few nights before. The gently rolling hills of the West Virginia mountains were quite beautiful covered in all the snow.

As we descended the switchbacks Isla began to complain of car sickness. She's done this before. The first time she complained about being carsick was shortly after we had been discussing it with a few others who do have kids who get carsick. Our kids have never had any problems with it, so we figured she was just sick of the car, rather than actually carsick. She's complained of it several times since, all without incident. When she began complaining of it this time, I thought it was the same "sick of the car and not really carsick" routine, so I didn't really pay it much attention. Maybe about forty-five minutes later, Max called out to us from the back seat, "Isla's throwing up!"

Whoa, OK, maybe she does really get carsick! We have just never pushed her long enough to see the end result! Quickly pulling off onto the side of the road we cleaned her up, got her into clean clothes, and were back on the road again. The rest of the drive was much less exciting, thankfully.

We made it home safely, and loved our little ski trip to the cabin in the woods. We are grateful for our friends who invited us to go along with them, and even more thankful that it got us out of teaching their primary class!