Life may be a beach for Angelenos, but a day in the snow is fun too

New Yorkers spent Saturday shoveling sidewalks and swapping horror stories about the thousand canceled flights that made purgatories of local airports.

Bostonians shuffled through drifts to stock up on water and candles in case an incoming ice storm fulfills predictions of downed power lines.

In New Hampshire, where some 30,000 people have not had electricity for two weeks, residents prepared for another snowfall and the prospect of a white and dark Christmas.

But in the Los Angeles area's mountains, the snow brought joy and a photo op to anyone with half a tank of gas and an hour or more to kill.

Scores of families packed their cars with toboggans and insulated bottles filled with hot chocolate, and left their sun-baked, cactus-dappled neighborhoods for the white-capped hills on the northern horizon.

Cars, trucks and a large number of suddenly appropriate SUVs coursed up Angeles Crest Highway in search of any patch of snow.

By midmorning, the cavalcade of snow lovers had transformed the roadway's shoulders, rest stops and scenic overlooks into the type of L.A. winter tableau normally found in snow globes: fathers pulling snow-suited toddlers on sleds, red-mittened children tossing snowballs, tree branches frosted in icicles.

For many families, going to the snow is a ritual: a fun, low-cost way to amaze little children and amuse older ones.

"Don't we live in a great place?" said Sean Lee of Pasadena as his two daughters and two nieces frolicked in a drift near the highway. "You drive 40 minutes and you can see snow."

As the girls' shrieks and giggles echoed down the valley below, Lee's wife, Cristina, said, "We come here as often as it snows."

Driving into the snowy mountains was like standing outside the tiger pen at the zoo: all the thrill with none of the danger. The roads were clear. The sun was warm. No chains or shovels were required.

Building a snow fort at a highway turnout, La Crescenta resident Steve Dermody said his 6-year-old son, Daniel, started begging to make the drive up the mountain when he heard the first reports of snow.

"He's been asking all week, 'Can we go today?' I told him that he had school and I had work, but if he could wait 'til Saturday there would still be some," Dermody said.