Three years ago to the day, I strapped on my first pair of ski boots and pizza'd my way down a hill. For Valentines Day in 2013, I decided that I would learn how to ski over a long weekend in Plattekill, New York. There's really nothing more romantic than falling off a mountain, amirite ladies? Luckily, Mike had the skiing thing down pat, so at least one of us was bound to survive.
I'd heard about a cool converted motel on a few blogs and Well + Good and thought it'd make the perfect weekend getaway. The fact that it was five minutes away from skiing seemed like a good excuse to give it a try. The Roxbury was as cool as promised (don't let the website fool you), but unfortunately, because I didn't do enough research ahead of time, the mountain near us only had a few trails, none of which were proper greens (Pro Tip: Do not make a blue trail your first ever ski run). Needless to say, I didn't fall in love with skiing on my first go. I was fairly certain I'd die on every run and it took a fair amount of convincing to get me out on the mountain again after the first day. But, as you can see, I'm still making my way down the slopes. In fact, I have a trip planned next month!
Check out the trip that started it all.