Mini Adventure: Seven Springs Shred Day

Why can't waking up at 6:00 AM for work be easy like waking up for a ski road trip? This was the thought running through my mind as I cheerily made salami and cheese sliders in my pre-dawn kitchen. The kids and I were pulling a marathon trip to Seven Springs Ski Area in PA, and back in a day. It's two and a half to three hours of driving each way, a worthwhile trip for more adventurous terrain than we have here in Ohio. As we loaded up the gear, double-checking that no essentials were missing, the sun began to light up a bluebird sky; it was going to be a good day.

A ski trip is a great way to carve out some quality time with the kiddos: they're trapped both in the car and on the ski lift, so they have no escape from dad's musings. All kidding aside, it's wonderful to have a few hours of mindless banter with kids who are usually running from sports practice, to the jazz band, to group hangs, and squeezing schoolwork into the mix. 

The drive from Cuyahoga Falls to Seven Springs starts off with standard Ohio Turnpike fare: farm fields, small towns, and the occasional relics of the State's rust belt past. We always remark how unfathomably large the ex-Lordstown Chevrolet plant is as it passes by on the port side. Chevy made the Cruze there for almost a decade. 

We always seem to miss getting the b-roll shot of the "Welcome to Pennslyvania" sign, but I suppose we can be forgiven, as it zips by pretty fast at 75 mph. The transition is nearly instant and dramatic as we cross the border. The glacial plains of Eastern Ohio give way to the rolling hills of the Keystone State. We idly chat about school, what run we should head to first, and how fire our Amazon playlists are for road-tripping, as towns tucked into valleys come and go through the windows. 

The excitement really builds once we are off the highway. The normal tourist trappings appear. Hotels, ski shops, the distributor with the giant BEER sign, and soon enough, the entrance to Seven Springs. We find a parking spot in the North Lot without too much trouble and boot up in the glorious sunshine. There's a debate on whether to go with a hoodie or a jacket. The consensus is to wear jackets, as the Laurel Highlands can have a chilly breeze even on warm days. We trudge across the lot in our clunky ski boots toward the hill, navigating the strange remix of shredder hype music. The North Lot is cool, as skiers can click in at the edge of the lot and ski down to either the main lodge or the lifts on the North Face. 

The day is warming, but Lost Boy (the name of the trail) is still in the shade, and the snow is crispy underfoot as we weave our way through a forest of maple and white pines. It's good that the snow is firm; it's a long traverse at the bottom to reach the Gunnar lift, and we'll want to carry speed if we don't want to arrive sweaty and out of breath. We hop on the lift, watching one of the springs zip by as we zoom up the hill. Deciding on Lost Girl, we round the corner and are treated to an incredible view, seemingly able to see all the way back to Ohio. The trail steepens and descends through ghost trees (trees completely coated in snow). It's magical as we cruise in and out of the shadows, looking along the sides of the trail for little bob sled runs and stuff to jump off of. Legs burning, we arrive back at the lift, smiling and throwing muted high fives in gloved hands. 

It's time to tear ourselves away from the amazing skiing for a lodge break (winter porta-potties are no bueno), so we head towards the front face. Fawn Lane is a run that sounds harmless, do not be deceived... It's the main route from the North Face to the lodge, and is heavily trafficked by skiers and boarders of wildly varying abilities. Breathing a sigh of relief, we make the final few turns and pull up to the resort proper. It's a wonderfully kitschy reminder of Americana, with a classic "Poconos" vibe. Timber framing, lots of limestone, there's even a bowling alley and putt-putt. 

Feeling refreshed, we traverse the bottom of the front face, heading for the Avalanche lift. At the top, it's too much fun to resist a quick lap of Village Trail. Starting off, weaving through vacationers' condos, the trail descends through the woods, spitting us out back at the bottom of Avalanche. Now properly warmed up, it's time for some black diamond action. Avalanche is legitimately steep, but the snow is perfect; fast, but soft enough to hold and edge. We whoop and holler as we take ripper runs, blasting down the mountain beneath the lift. Adrenaline coursing, the kids decide it's a good time to head back to the car for lunch. 

The epic playlist resumes, the cooler begins to empty, and some much-needed caloric replacement ensues. Much contemplation goes into our after-lunch plans. In the end, we decide to save the terrain park for later and head back to the Gunnar lift for more cruiser runs before the sun softens the snow too much. We grab some great footage and get a few runs on Gunnar, another fairly steep black. Our legs are barking for a break, so it's one more trip back to the lodge. I can't resist a quick beer on the deck at the Foggy Goggle in the sun, before we head to Santa's beard for park laps. 

A few rides up the tow rope, some success, some failures, and the waning sun tells us it's time to hit the road for home. One more harrowing trip down Fawn Lane, a ride up the Polar Bear Express, and we are back at the lot for that most glorious of moments: the removal of ski boots! Seat heaters soothing achy backs, we descend into the sunset, heading for Sheetz and much-needed MTO calories. The drive home goes quickly, the beautiful vistas of PA now under a vibrant sunset of soft magentas and pinks. Arriving at home, we flop onto the couch and tell Mom all of our stories.

Adventures like these seem to wake up our souls. R.W. Emerson said, "We are never tired so long as we can see far enough, and I'm not sure I've ever heard a truer sentiment. You sure can't see very far while sitting in front of a screen... So, go do stuff. You only need a tank of gas and the dream of beautiful vistas, bluebird skies, no lift lines, and quality time with the people who mean the most. 

Fortitudine Vincimus, 

Ryan

PS. Comment your favorite run at Springs!