Skiing Again
Making this weird last Wednesday before school starts feel even more like a Sunday—there’s even a football game on tonight—Mimi and I went skiing at Snoqualmie Summit.
Snow conditions were amazing—a couple inches of fluffy powder on top of a smooth solid base—and lift lines were, for the most part, short, except that time we got stuck on the bunny hill chair in order to avoid walking up the short hill to one of the main chairs.
And I must say, I still adore the strange practice of sliding down a slippery hill on boards; (I always think that if the Martians invade, they’re going to find skiing one of humanity’s quirkiest habits—but maybe they’ll consider it as charming as we do watching Sea Otters and Penguins glide down waterfalls.)
But gawd! The preparations and horsepower needed to make this recreation possible! I’m exhausted by the time we hit the slopes and flabbergasted by the sheer energy needed to finally slide down that first hill.
It starts the night before when we have to run around the house looking for all the various pieces of gear—hats, gloves, long underwear, etc. Invariably, something is missing and that minor crisis has to be dealt with or averted somehow.
And then, it’s up and out of bed at an unreasonable hour for a day off; breakfast, such as it is, is bolted; and afterwards, the drive, for at least an hour—thankfully handled today by our neighbor and friend Elod in his four-wheel drive.
The nadir of the day was an hour and fifteen minute ordeal to rent skis, standing in one line then another, feeling more like a cow than a skier, trying to keep smiling while potential runs slipped away inexorably.
Eventually, however, we made it to the slopes, got in half a dozen good runs and worked up enough of an appetite that the 8 dollar Gardenburgers seemed like a deal.
Can’t wait to go back.
Snow conditions were amazing—a couple inches of fluffy powder on top of a smooth solid base—and lift lines were, for the most part, short, except that time we got stuck on the bunny hill chair in order to avoid walking up the short hill to one of the main chairs.
And I must say, I still adore the strange practice of sliding down a slippery hill on boards; (I always think that if the Martians invade, they’re going to find skiing one of humanity’s quirkiest habits—but maybe they’ll consider it as charming as we do watching Sea Otters and Penguins glide down waterfalls.)
But gawd! The preparations and horsepower needed to make this recreation possible! I’m exhausted by the time we hit the slopes and flabbergasted by the sheer energy needed to finally slide down that first hill.
It starts the night before when we have to run around the house looking for all the various pieces of gear—hats, gloves, long underwear, etc. Invariably, something is missing and that minor crisis has to be dealt with or averted somehow.
And then, it’s up and out of bed at an unreasonable hour for a day off; breakfast, such as it is, is bolted; and afterwards, the drive, for at least an hour—thankfully handled today by our neighbor and friend Elod in his four-wheel drive.
The nadir of the day was an hour and fifteen minute ordeal to rent skis, standing in one line then another, feeling more like a cow than a skier, trying to keep smiling while potential runs slipped away inexorably.
Eventually, however, we made it to the slopes, got in half a dozen good runs and worked up enough of an appetite that the 8 dollar Gardenburgers seemed like a deal.
Can’t wait to go back.
posted by Professor Dave at 5:37 PM
1 Comments:
Dear David
Have a smooth, sliding, gliding year. Not too fast but just right.
I should be working, instead checking on friends around the world.
Greetings from London
Snezana
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