LONG WAY DOWN

It isn't hard to Picture: Me as a young buck in blue jeans whizzing past in a flash.

- CHIP GAINES

I spent the first part of my childhood living in the Albuquerque valley, comfortably wedged between the Sandia and Manzano mountains. For most of the year, those distant peaks were nothing more to me than a nice backdrop to daily life, except for spring break when my mom, dad, sister, and I would load up the car, boards tied tight to the roof, and set out in search of snow-covered slopes.

Skiing was the sport of choice for the Gaines family. Granted, we weren't season pass holders at the nicest resorts in the state, but I never knew the difference. Still don't. Not when it comes to the whip of mountain air, the swoosh of cutting through fresh powder, the split-second choice to take the double black down. When it comes to thrill and adventure and the chance to leave fear at the top, I've never been super picky.

YOUNG BUCK

Little me, tromping around the Sandia Mountains-the peaks I'd come to love outside of Albuquerque.

I'm about 7 years old here (according to my mom).

Naturally, I was excited to carry on this tradition with Jo when we got married and started a family. Sure enough, the kids and I have gone skiing at least once a year since they were skilled enough to “pizza” their way down the bunny hill. Jo, on the other hand, gave it her best for a handful of years but is more convinced than ever that skiing just isn’t her thing. Instead, she hangs back at the house, happily retired, and settles into her own version of a winter retreat: cooking, reading, and relaxing by the fire.