I believe in the annual D.I. Day at Beaver Mountain.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with Beaver Mountain Ski Resort, I could describe to you in many ways; what it is, where it is, and what it means to many. If you were to ask most of Cache Valley, Utah, we would tell you it’s our best kept secret ever. Tucked away in the Northern Utah Rocky Mountains, the Beav, as it is usually referred to by most, is only a quick thirty minute drive up Logan Canyon. It’s said to still hold the reigning title for cheapest lift tickets in the U.S. But that’s not all. It’s not only home of the greatest snow on earth (go ahead and search for better), it’s also considered home for every skier and snowboarder that has ever set foot on the hill. Because in doing so, they become a local. Every man, woman, and child has a connection whether they recognize it or not to the others on the hill. We all unite for one reason alone, the love of skiing. Which is how I bring myself in to this account.
I, myself, now twenty one years old, in college, moving on with my life, consider the Beav my home. It’s where I grew up. It’s where I feel most like myself. It’s where my family is, and always will be. It’s where my parents met their best friends. And it’s how I became best friends with their children. It’s where we meet up annually, for one day out of the year for tasty food and cold beverages in the parking lot, a lot of catching up and socializing, and of course, some good old fashioned shredding.
Now one thing you must realize before I continue any further with this story is that Beaver Mountain has its own special kind of crowd. They’re known to me as the “Sunday Skiers.” Saturdays are always the most crowded day of the week, obviously, and Sundays are usually the one day out of the weekend you have a better chance of catching yourself some fresh tracks somewhere on the mountain. This is where I come back to the one day out of the year where we rely heavily on the importance of celebration.
This is what I call D.I. Day. Most skiers native to Beaver Mountain would possibly assume that what I actually meant was Big Air Day. But no. Big Air day is usually the last day of the season, normally on a Saturday, where a freestyle competition takes place. Of course that on its own is a riot. But D.I. Day was founded many years before Big Air. D.I. Day is considered by a few select as the last Sunday of the season. Known to my parents and their friends as originating in the seventies, it has always been the day to dress up in the craziest garb possible (usually found at the local Deseret Industries Thrift Store), and it is spent simply enjoying one last non-crowded Sunday of the season. The mountain even had the delight one year of hosting a certain nude paragliding incident from the top of the bunny hill, although, that was a long time ago. And we won’t name any names here other than, yeah ok, that was my dad.
So what I’m really getting at is that D.I. Day is a tradition. As quarky, odd and (yes we all know how that certain saying goes, ski on a Sunday and you break your leg) somewhat derogatory to many it may seem, it’s what brought together and started my distant non-related family. I grew up skiing with the children of my parents’ friends. We’ve all moved out now, some are married, and most don’t even live in the same state anymore. But five of them I actually consider my real sisters, granted that one already really is. We keep in touch with each others’ lives. We visit through phone and email. We’re even in collaborations for someday receiving matching snowflake tattoos in honor of our bond. After all, we do have that wild side embedded deeply through our upraising. Or so that’s where we credit the blame…
It may seem odd, but this is the family I have, and wouldn’t trade for the world. And for that I have Beaver Mountain, it’s owners, the Seeholzers, and none other than the Sunday Skier crowd to thank for instilling my belief in Beaver Mountain D.I. Day.
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