There was no way I was going to let Wally have Benson all to himself on Valentine's Day. So, I left Parowan at 6a on Friday and drove to Snowbasin. It was, once again, a case of letting my heart over-rule my better judgment. I soon discovered that I had bitten off more than I could chew. Benson rides like an expert; Wally skis like a bat-out-of-hell; and Jordan finally gave up on me and took some laps on his own. I guess the only good news was that we didn't hook up with the sixty-something Harley riders who, I am told, stopped only to share a flask while riding the 'dola. Fortunately, just when I thought my rubbery quads would finally desert me for good, Wally called last run.The test of endurance wasn't over though. After gorging ourselves on moose tacos by Katie, we went for a tour of neighborhood homes. My bedtime came and went as we viewed fine art, drank red wine, and solved the world's problems. In addition to enjoying the good company, I also had the benefit of becoming so drowsy that I was able to fall asleep back at the bunkhouse with the Benson buzz-saw running at full throttle.
In the morning we drank a couple of pots of coffee and ate bagels while the snow piled up outside. By the time we got on the road, the 45 minute trip to the Salt Lake Airport had turned into 90 minutes of terror. So much for a leisurely morning. I barely slowed down to push Benson out the door at Terminal 1. If his flight was cancelled, so be it, I needed to save myself. Of course, this being the Wasatch front, once I got off the benches and south of town, it cleared up and I had unimpeded views of Sandy and Draper as I headed down the freeway. I made it back to Parowan before dinner; tired but thankful for a Benson/Wallace sponsored ski vacation.
