Lifting Family Spirits

A trio forges new ties on Park City's ski slopes

Story and photographs by Michael Jackson

Sometimes I think of him as the little fellow I pushed on his tricycle. I remember teaching him to swing a bat. He was a special part of my life, always clutching my hand as we'd take long walks in the rugged hills behind our house. Was it that long ago? When did my son Devon become a man?

His teenage years were challenging. Then, suddenly it seems, we grew closer than ever, but the roles reversed. When we embark on our annual father-and-son ski adventure, I'm no longer the protector; now 29, it's Devon who makes the reservations and carries the skis. If I should fall — for I am far more intrepid than skilled — his strong arm is there to get me standing again.

SKI BINDINGS: The author (above, right) reconnects with his son Devon (center) and gets to know Devon's girlfriend, Lily (left), on a winter excursion in and around Park City, Utah. The three adventurers ski tree-lined runs (right photo), go hot-air ballooning (top, right), and take a dip in the Hotel Park City's heated pool (top, left).

Our most recent winter vacation was different. Devon's girlfriend, Lily, accompanied us. Devon is a talent manager. He always swore that he'd never date a client. And then, she came along: lovely, intelligent (her crossword puzzle skills can outdo those of most of the family), and cheerful. My wife, Alana, calls her, appropriately, "Sunshine."

Alana couldn't join us on the trip, but she insisted that I go. She saw us off with admonitions to keep warm and stay safe. As the week began, both Lily and I wanted to get to know each other, and Devon hoped we'd get along. The week ended, I think, with all three of us hoping that we'd know each other forever.

I got a sense of Lily's optimistic outlook even before we left Southern California. I'd found my son's old ski outfit hanging in a closet. I'd never bought myself one that stylish: all black and embellished with a hot-pink lining.

"You must wear that," said Lily, when she saw me try it on.

"I can't wear hot pink," I said.

"You have to," she replied. "It's so 'with it,' and it looks good on you." I put the outfit in my luggage.

Skiing Sensations
Our destination was Park City, Utah, home to three ski resorts: The Canyons, Deer Valley Resort, and Park City Mountain Resort.

The first morning, before the lifts opened, we were at the base of the mountain, prepping ourselves with hot chocolate and croissants. We took in the whole scene: the fresh snow, the icicles on balconies and gutters, the frost on the breath of the early risers.

I stuck to the blue runs, the intermediate — but still quite challenging — slopes, with colorful names like Hidden Splendor and Mel's Alley. Devon and Lily took the black-diamond runs, steeply graded routes designed for expert skiers. We'd meet at the base, compare notes, and then head back up the mountain.

I relished the perfectly groomed bowls, untouched trails, and wide-open powder runs. We all had such adrenaline-pumping fun that we stayed on the slopes until the sun cast long shadows from behind the peaks and the chairlifts ceased running for the day. Devon noticed I was a bit tired. But he'd never say, "Dad, would you like me to carry your skis?" He was more tactful. He said, "Dad, would you mind carrying the poles?" as he picked up my skis.

Back at the Hotel Park City, large logs cracked on a giant open fire and a heated pool surrounded by snowfields beckoned. We all changed into swimsuits. Lily jumped in first, claiming that Devon and I were chicken. That's all it took. We jumped in. We all stayed in the water as the sun set and the margaritas, served poolside, warmed our insides.

Winter Fun
Our adventures were just beginning. One day, we went tubing at Gorgoza Park, about a 10-minute drive from Park City. For the uninitiated (and I was), tubing involves getting into an inflated circular raft that resembles a large tire and sliding down a snow-covered slope.

We each flopped into a tube and zoomed down the tubing lanes carved into the snowy hillside, taking the frequent bumps in stride. After one wild race down the hill, I heard Devon say to Lily, "Want to know what my dad looked like as a kid? Watch his face the next time we come down the hill." We couldn't stop laughing like loons.

Another day, we went hot-air ballooning. It had snowed heavily the previous night, so the views of the white-blanketed landscape were spectacular. The quiet of our flight was interrupted only when the pilot turned on the burners so we'd ascend higher. As we approached the Wasatch Mountains, at an altitude of some 2,500 feet, the world appeared Lilliputian, and the only sounds we could hear were dogs barking far below.

A highlight of the week was skiing at Deer Valley Resort with three-time Olympian and giant-slalom star Heidi Voelker. As the resort's ambassador of skiing, she's available to accompany guests on the slopes. To ski with such a perfect speed demon was a thrill. Our first run took us to the 9,400-foot peak of Bald Mountain.

"Heidi, I don't know if I can do this," I said.

"Follow in my tracks and trust your own ability," she said. So I took off, heeding her instructions. "Lean forward in your boots," she said. "Trust your skis." By day's end, my thighs were burning, but my skiing prowess had improved markedly. Just one challenge remained.

Jackson's Heights
All week I'd been sticking to the relatively tame blue runs. Toward the end of our stay, Devon and Lily suggested I try a black-diamond run. At first, I hesitated. But then I thought, I've always wanted to run a marathon but never have; I've always wanted to scale a mountain but never have. I've always wanted to ski a black-diamond run; why not try it? The week's carefree activities had inspired me to stop postponing things.

Each night, the ski resorts carefully groom a few black-diamond runs so that intermediate-level skiers can ski them in the morning. Early on our last day in Park City, Devon, Lily, and I took the chairlift to the top of Deer Valley Resort's freshly groomed Dynamic run. At the summit, we paused briefly, taking in the panorama. Then we headed down the mountain.

Devon skied in front of me; Lily skied behind. I fell a couple of times, but they were there to help me back on my skis and shower me with encouragement. The run was fast and smooth. It scared the heck out of me. But it also exhilarated me. From time to time, I stopped to look back at the terrain we'd traversed and marvel at how far we'd come — and at the fact that I hadn't broken a single bone. When I made it to the bottom, Devon and Lily beamed like proud parents.

The achievement was a fitting finale to a week on the slopes. I plan to return — next time with Alana and some of our five grandchildren. I wonder if one day, Lily and Devon will be back with children of their own.

For 32 years, Michael Jackson hosted his own radio talk show on KABC in Los Angeles. He's won six Golden Mike awards, and, in 2003, he was inducted into the Radio Hall of Fame.

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visit your AAA Travel office, call (888) 874-7222, or visit aaa-calif.com/travel. Free AAA maps,
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