More recently I hiked with friends in the Jungfrau region, basing ourselves in Mürren on the flank of the Lauterbrunnen Valley, what has to be one of the most scenic settings on earth. At other times I’ve explored Geneva, Lausanne, Luzern, St. Moritz, Gindelwald, Appenzell, Chur, and other places, but I’ve never been there in winter.

Well, I was once in Chamonix on the French side, and stayed in the village of Argentiere near the railway tunnel into Switzerland. I skied with friends there for several days, but never crossed the border, so that doesn’t count.

Twice I’ve been to the Jungfraujoch, the highest railway station in Europe, in summer, looking down the mind-boggling Aletsch Glacier and up at the Jungfrau and Mönch. The excursion train to the Jungfraujoch — the Jungfraubahn — begins in Kleine Scheidegg. Even in summer it’s clear that the slopes here would offer superb skiing.

Naturally, right now the  Swiss Alps are covered in snow. A quick look at ski reports shows a 2-foot base and 6 feet on the upper slopes of the Matterhorn, and similar stories at Verbier and Mürren-Schilthorn.

Snow has been falling in California and throughout the American West. It’d be cheaper and easier to go to Lake Tahoe, to Mammoth Mountain, or to Sun Valley, Idaho or Park City, Utah for that matter, but where do I really want to go?

I think my daydreams are telling me where.

But I live in San Francisco and can be on the North Shore of Lake Tahoe in less than four hours. Lake Tahoe, the place with more ski resorts and ski acreage than any region in the USA, plus the glorious spectacle of the lake from many peaks. Why run off to Utah, or Jackson Hole, Wyoming, or Big Sky, Montana, or Vail or Aspen or Whistler, BC when I live so close to such a winter wonderland?

One reason this winter was the pitiful snowfall in the Sierra. Another was a group of friends from college days who wanted to meet there for a reunion. So, with tickets booked far in advance, I had powder dreams reminiscent of Warren Miller films and couldn’t wait to get going.

As all skiers know, little snow has fallen throughout the West this season. It’s picked up in recent weeks (in fact, Jackson Hole reports snow every day over the last 20 days of February, with 3 feet in the last week; and 5 feet of snow fell at Lake Tahoe this week, so winter’s best weekend is about to start), but when we headed out mid February, Utah had almost as little snow as California. It seemed that our reunion would be more hanging about the hot tub than schussing down ski runs. But did that matter? Wasn’t the point to get together with a group of great friends who hadn’t seen each other in years?

Yes and no. We also wanted to ski. We had a palatial house (honestly, palatial doesn’t do it justice, it was too vast for that) in the hills above town where we had to yodel to locate each other in the far bedrooms. But once found, we all gathered in the kitchen and living room for fine meals and conversation. We drank too much wine, caught up on the years, and plotted our days on the slopes.

And those days weren’t bad. Park City made it easy. For those of us who needed rental equipment, the Ski Butlers delivered it to our door. Park City Resort was a short drive away. Deer Valley a little farther, and The Canyons pretty close. While thin in places, snow on the groomed runs was dry, workable. Skiing was surprisingly good. And the biggest surprise of all, after skiing we stopped for a beverage and snack at Baja Cantina at Park City Resort, where a generous margarita cost $2.75! A bucket of ice jammed with four Coronas cost $10! Was this a throwback to our college days put on just for us?

Drinks at Deer Valley the next day weren’t as affordable, but hey, that’s what we expected. The skiing was just as good, and we were happy.

Overnight before our last ski day it snowed an inch, and by the time we headed for The Canyons, about three inches had accumulated. Most of the day we skied in snowfall so visibility was tough, but a foot of fresh snow greeted us on many runs and I began to get a sense of why Utah has the reputation it does.

But I’ll have to go back another time, in a more normal season, when the base is deep and the sun is shining. The good thing for people like me who live in or around San Francisco: flying to Salt Lake City takes less than two hours, the drive to Park City is less than an hour, and there are plenty of options for lodging. It’s pretty accessible, and despite my bias for Lake Tahoe, I’ll try Utah again.

Next time I’ll book closer to traveling so I can get better snow. Trouble is, my buddies won’t be there, unless I can convince them to drop everything and join me. Which, if the conditions are right, they might be happy to do.

My friend doesn’t do anything unless it is full throttle, so it didn’t surprise me that he had a hankering for extreme speed. It did, however, surprise me when he said his whole body was sore after the less than 2 minute, nearly $150 (Canadian Dollar) ride down the Olympic track. Kitted out, he was placed in the back seat and braced himself to fly down the mountain.

I am a bit of an Olympic geek so I had lots of questions, not least of which was about the poor Georgian luger Nodar Kumaritashvili who was killed during a training run while reportedly going nearly 150 MPH. I knew he was killed on that very same run and I had watched the tragedy unfold.

The Whistler Sliding Center hosted all the sliding events in the 2010 Games and is now a premiere world track. I know the luge and skeleton are much more dangerous than bobsled because the sleds are less protective, but that accident was so haunting. Often, ex-football players or track stars are inspired to be the anchor of the team on bobsled. Their speed helps a team get a fast start, but even those guys and gals train intensely for the sport. I was relieved to hear that the tourist sleds have higher walls and that they start after the treacherous turn where the accident happened. Although lightning fast, tourist runs are significantly slower than Olympic runs.

With a professional pilot and plenty of gear and preparation, tourists can ride the wind and ice at 125 MPH. My friend lived to tell the tale and has the picture to prove it! As for the Winter Olympics, next up are the 2014 Winter Games in Sochi, Russia.

Big Sky in Montana has twice its usual snowpack for Thanksgiving’s opening day and is launching a twin zipline as well so you can zoom 1500 feet alongside your sweetheart or best buddy.

And if you’ve made your way to Yosemite National Park, the Curry Village Ice Rink opens on Thanksgiving as well.

There are so many choices but one thing’s for sure: winter is here.

Lake Tahoe reported a foot of snow the other day. Two weeks ago I got word that almost four feet had dropped on Jackson Hole. A few days ago a little farther north, Big Sky Montana got a foot, with more falling and a lot more on the way.

It must be ski season.

A few years ago I went to Yellowstone in winter to see wildlife, cross-country ski to Old Faithful, ride the snow coach, and tool around on a snowmobile in the national forests outside the national park. On the way down from Bozeman we drove right past Big Sky and I made a mental note to come back and check it out.

At that time I’d never heard of the place and my goal was Yellowstone, so I didn’t get up on the mountain, but I’ve since learned that Big Sky is one of the biggest ski areas in the USA, gets 400 inches of snow a year (that’s more than 30 feet), and, because there’s no major population center within easy driving distance, has virtually no lift lines.

If that’s not reason enough to start packing the ski clothes I don’t know what is.

Big Sky’s season opens over Thanksgiving weekend and this year there’s nonstop air service from San Francisco, where I live, so I’m checking the calendar and making plans. As much as I love Lake Tahoe, it can’t hurt to try something new. And with an extra day I can make the short run to Yellowstone again, a place in winter that is uncrowded and almost otherworldly with geysers rimmed by snow and wildlife everywhere.

Looks like it’s going to be a long winter. For skiers, that’s a good thing!

The 1988 Calgary Winter Olympics was also a Canadian affair. It was the last Olympics where Cold War rivalries played out on the world sporting stage. It was the year of the Jamaican Bobsled team and Eddie the Eagle, the courageous Scottish everyman who soared in the ski jump, or at least gave it his best.

For Olympic nerds, like me, it was the year of the Battle of the Brians in figure skating where the American Brian Boitano won the gold. I remember most of all the amazing scenery, Lake Louise and the stunning aerial photography of the Canadian Rockies. A two-hour drive from Calgary, Banff is to Calgary what Whistler is to Vancouver.

The town of Banff was created by happenstance in the late 19th century when railway workers discovered hot mineral springs. Visitors came, and later it was designated a National Park. A majestic lodge, The Banff Springs Hotel, was built more than a century ago and has been dubbed the “Castle in the Rockies.”

Today the area appeals to the posh crowd.  Galleries, swanky shops and fine dining are as much a part of the experience as dog-sled rides, skating and hitting the slopes. Looking for the top things to do on a trip to the Canadian winter wonderland? Check out the CanadianRockies.net list of the top 11 attractions.

The next day we did wind up downhill skiing at the family friendly Bear Valley Resort. It was the first time in 12 years for me, even though I cross country ski a lot, and the first time, ever, for my two boys.  On the Sunday our hosts suggested a walk in the Redwoods. I had no idea they were so close! This spot is nestled between Gold Country and Mountain ski resorts; what an amazing destination! Then I found out that where we were staying was just a stone’s throw from one of the premier Redwood Forests in Northern California. I’ve lived in San Francisco for more than 15 years and I have only visited the Redwoods a handful of times, and not in a long while. It was awesome. Calaveras Big Trees State Park was a perfect day trip for us with four boys aged 5-9. We took the guided walk and read about the history, but mostly just basked in the grandeur of the giant sequoias. The kids marveled at their size and enjoyed climbing around and drinking in small bits of natural history. We encouraged them along with snacks and treats but they were gripped by the natural majesty of the place. There are plenty of photo ops with tunnels carved through giant trees and the skyscraper-esque view one gets of the sky from the ground. The pamphlet you can pick up at the beginning chronicles the history of the park, providing a window into how it must have been to discover these tremendous wonders more than a century ago. The trail was full of families and seniors, foreigners and photographers. It’s definitely a place worth a visit!

One day we took a hike around Fallen Leaf Lake, a small lake just a couple miles from the center of town. My kids could throw rocks in water for hours and then the next day we stood on the edge of a stream, cut through the melting snow, at higher altitude, and they threw snowballs in the snow melt stream for a long time while I did my brisk skiing around in circles. I love the juxtaposition of seasons in California, spring in the mountains is truly glorious; melting icicles, wildflowers, snow capped mountains and awakening flora and fauna. We saw the most gigantic coyote on their block one morning digging into a neighbors garbage can, just a reminder of how wild the area truly is. Wild geese walked on the beach of Lake Tahoe; one of the most stunning scenes I have ever seen. I sent a photos to a friend in Massachusetts, she thought it looked how she imagined Alaska would look; rugged alpine peaks, clear crisp water and air.

I hiked with my sister-in law up to a vista where she had created a shrine to her daughter, my niece Maya Kailana Campanis who passed away in 2007 at the age of ten, following a long struggle with Leukemia. The shrine has weathered all four seasons. Skye, Maya’s mom brings Easter eggs, valentines, birthday cupcakes, art work and Christmas gifts to leave for her, a beautiful way to keep Maya alive in spirit and a part of daily life. Tucked into a corner is a notebook where fellow hikers can leave a note, many write about their own struggles with cancer, others the majesty of the spot. Here is a photo of part of the shrine and the view from the place we consider Maya’s resting place; not a bad view. This time a small bunny cutout with cotton stuck on as fur, made by Maya’s sister for Easter no doubt, had the tell tale signs a mouse had used the cotton for its nest; the circle of life.

I have skied downhill many times and do love the thrill, but have come to appreciate cross country skiing greatly, particularly since having kids. When they were young I pulled both my boys in sleds, wrapping them in blankets, like little Russian Princes, with snacks and toys in the sled. They both took naps while I, in a complete sweat, trudged through the glorious snow; I absolutely loved that feeling.

Now they are a bit older and are interested in skiing on their own. Recently, I read an online missive in one of my mom’s groups. The message linked to an article by Gigi Stahl about skiing with your preschooler or kindergartener and I thought it was quite helpful and funny.

She recommended the Homewood Resort on the north shore of  Lake Tahoe, a place I remember being the perfect size for novice skiers.  I didn’t have kids at the time, but have a memory of making a mental note about the cozy, unprimped feel of the small resort.

My favorite tidbit in her story is this line: “Lastly, time takes on a whole different meaning in getting stuff done. For instance, when potty time comes around, take the normal amount of time in non-ski clothes and multiply by 5.”

I cracked up remembering growing up on the East Coast where snow paraphernalia was de rigueur in the winter. Who can forget those mittens on a string? Sometimes I wish they made adult versions. Now, when I bring my kids back East in winter, it is exhausting getting them geared up just to go outside. Despite all the travails and potential expense, winter sports, whether sledding, snow man building or skiing, are just a great boost to the system and wonderful family fun.

There I was at the top of Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in the Alps and Western Europe. Living in Paris for my college semester abroad, I was lucky to have been invited to “sport d’hiver” with a French friend’s family. I was new to skiing and had spent the morning in ski school with toddlers; very humiliating. My friend, who was an expert skier, insisted I join her in the “egg,” the tram to the top of Mont Blanc. She assured me I could take the tram down again.

As I recall, she was preoccupied with a budding romance, and although she cared for me deeply, her focus was, let’s say…elsewhere. Once at the peak, the gruff operator insisted I get off. No, I could not take the lift down to our designated lunch spot at a mountain restaurant. Not wanting to be a drag or imposition, I told her to go on ahead with her crush and I would tackle the triple black diamond slope on my own and meet them there.

I was 19 and foolish. Two hours later I arrived, frozen and black and blue from sliding down the mountain on my bottom; it was a harrowing experience, despite the fact that it makes a great story all these years later. A meal never tasted so good.

This memory resurfaced, as I read an article in Vanity Fair Magazine’s December 2008 issue entitled  “Some Like it Haute - the World’s Top Mountain Restaurants.” One listed for Megeve, France sounded like the spot we went to, although I can’t be sure. L’ Alpette, as it is called, has been a lunchtime institution since 1935.  With a well chosen wine list and oyster bar, weary skiers can enjoy local sausage and simple salads or more elaborate plates.

Although I grew to enjoy downhill, these days I stick to cross country, but if you’re interested in the top picks, some of the most compelling are:

St. Anton, Austria - Verwall Stube. Described as “über –chic,” Vladimir Putin and the Jordanian Royal family frequent this mountain top foodie haven.

Verbier, Switzerland - Au Vieux Verbier. Known for traditional Swiss cuisine, Vanity Fair calls the interior kitschy and says you may run into the likes of Leo DiCaprio, Jamie Oliver or Björk.

Closer to home in Jackson Hole, Wyoming you might tuck into a house–smoked buffalo tenderloin at Jackson Hole’s latest hot spot called Couloir; the views are apparently breathtaking.

I have to say there is nothing like dining at altitude!