There’s something special about skiing with your dad. He was likely the one helping you make your first turns, hauling your gear, or leading the charge on a truly memorable day. Whatever it was, time spent on the mountain with our dads often creates memories that last a lifetime.
We recently asked the SnowBrains community a simple question: What is your favorite memory about skiing or snowboarding with your dad?
The responses were a beautiful avalanche of nostalgia. It was clear that our father’s love of skiing created a generational bond for many of us. Here are the common themes and most heartfelt responses from a community bound by a shared love for the mountains and the men who introduced it to them.
The Ultimate Supporters (Even if They Didn’t Ski)
Some of the most touching memories came from people whose fathers never even strapped into a pair of skis. For these dads, the joy wasn’t about the turns, it was entirely about supporting their kids’ passions.
“He didn’t ski, BUT, he would stand in the slush at the base of the rope tow (in his boat mocs with no socks) of our local hill on Long Island and watch me. He would call out ‘c’mon, it’s time to go’, and as a little tyke I would say (as we all would) ‘one more dad, one more.’ All of us know how that went! Miss him lots.” — J.S.
Every second of every day skiing with my dad is great. I used to borrow his hat when I would get cold, because I was to cool to bring a beanie. My dad always had chocolate as well… even if he said he didn’t. — Thomas W.
“Don’t have any [memories skiing with him], he didn’t like skiing, he did however drop me off at the hill religiously, every weekend and some evenings, got me in the race team, came to races, and was a true supporter. I mean, do kids still get dropped these days with zero supervision all day all weekend? Was freedom!!” — Dan S.
“My dad didn’t ski. But he would bring me and sit in the warm car at the base of the hill and watch me. Pretty good for a non-skier.” — Chris C.
Passing the Torch: Three-Generation Dynasties
Skiing has a beautiful way of weaving through family history. Multiple readers shared how their fathers passed down the passion, creating a legacy that now spans three generations.
“My dad was born in 1918. He was an amazing skier (he skied Tuckerman’s back in the 30’s). He encouraged all of us to ski. I’m still skiing in my 70s and my younger sister is still skiing. My goal is to ski until the Olympics are held in Park City where we live.” — Anonymous
“The family that ski patrols together, stays together. 3 generations of patrollers at Treetops Resort.” — Adam S.
“I grew up in Steamboat Springs. My dad was a well-known jumper known as ‘The Wild Irish Rose’. He won most of the jumping tournaments in Colorado in the 30’s and 40’s. He coached me in the ‘40’s and 50’s. In my senior year of high school, I decided to jump the 90-meter jump in Steamboat… I managed to make 3 jumps without killing myself and he was proud of me.” — Joe M.
Too many great memories. Here’s a pic of three generations at Powderhorn. I think this was Dad’s last, ever, ski day. I have no idea why he quit. I miss him. — Steve H
The Pure Romance of the 70s and 80s Ski Culture
Skiing back in the day just hit different. The community fondly recalled the style, the retro gear, and the classic road-trip vibes that defined the mountain experience a few decades ago.
“In the height of the 70s ski craze, my dad carried one of those goat skin wine bags on a string around his neck and shoulder. He’d lift it up and a stream of wine would pour into his mouth. Then he lift the skin up with the stream still flowing and never miss a drop. A bota bag.” — Keith K.
“Skiers had so much class in the 1970’s and 80’s. We had Bota bags and Proto pipe on the chair lift listening to Astrotunes. A Cassette player with Velcro tied around your chest for skiing the mogul’s.” — Ihab B.
“The really early days skiing with Dad and my brother in N. Michigan. Long green runs and just getting the hang of it. Car rides and laughs and good songs on the radio. The 80’s were different.” — Colorado Ski Furniture
Playing Hooky and Epic First Impressions
Nothing says “cool dad” quite like pulling your kids out of school early for a ski day. For many, that first glimpse of a real mountain left an impression.
“First time going a real mountain, Whiteface in NY. He drove overnight cutting through Canada from Detroit and parked with a view of the mountain and when I woke up I remember just getting wide eyed and thinking wooooahhhh! I still have the lift ticket.” — Brian G.
“Dad woke me up early on a school day and took me to the mountains for the first time instead of school. He signed me up for a lesson. He said he was riding up the lift by himself and saw me skiing alone down the run without the ski class! So he caught up to me and asked why I wasn’t doing the lesson, I said they were too slow and I didn’t want to wait. Thanks dad for giving me the love of the mountains!” — John M.
Bittersweet Final Turns
Perhaps the most poignant responses came from those reflecting on their father’s last days on the snow. These memories serve as a powerful reminder to cherish every single run we get with the people we love.
“Too many great memories… I think this was Dad’s last, ever, ski day. I have no idea why he quit. I miss him.” — Steve H.
“How much I miss him. He is with me on every turn.” — Mark C.
“My dad at 81, my son almost 3. So happy that i was able to get them out together. Dad passed away 2 months later.” — Ross H.
- Related: Why I Don’t Like Mother’s Day
Clearly those days on the slopes with their fathers have left a lasting mark on our readers. The skiing is only part of what we remember. It’s the chairlift conversations, the shared adventures, the lessons learned, and the time spent together that stay with us. For many of us, some of our best memories of our dads were made in the mountains, and those memories are worth celebrating.
And for those who didn’t grow up skiing with their fathers? You are the pioneers. As reader Brian S. perfectly put it: “Zero. It’s starting with me!”
Here’s to the ski dads who made it all possible. The turns may fade, but the memories never will.