In a Handbasket
We spent Sunday at Crystal Mountain, near Mount Rainier, the four of us - my brother, the stepdaughter, my son and me. My wife has tried skiing a couple of times but never had that little breakthrough where you graduate from falling upon exiting the lift chair to actually getting some joy out of the speed and torsion of successfully negotiating a hill. (she looks in on my blog now & then, mostly to make sure that I’m not talking smack about her, and that no women are stalking me (gotta love her for that), so I hasten to say I mean nothing demeaning in the previous sentence) Instead, she has wedded herself to the comparatively safe and placid sport of rock climbing - go figure - and opted out of our weekend ski adventures.
Anyway, I only sorta got my mojo back and, yes, I took the opportunity to frame a case against my equipment. My skis are about 10 years old, long, and technologically behind the times. Everyone else is careening around on those sporty hourglass-shaped things. Plus, my left foot was loose in the boot, and I often fell while trying to cut a clockwise turn, as the ski (long, straight, old, dowdy) hitched momentarily instead of following the right one around. A skillful skiier would, of course, have compensated and had a grand time, but I used it as an opportunity to retreat to easier slopes for the day. I may go to REI and rent a pair of the coveted shorter skis and try once more. Or I may never ski again.
Despite my personal shortcomings, however, the weekend was a grand success for everyone participating. The stepdaughter had been working in a board shop in Ohio (!) and boarding on manmade snow near there for awhile, and was just at the point where she wanted and needed the challenge of the more difficult and varied terrain such as we have near Seattle. My brother rented skis, had a terribly discouraging first night out and almost gave up, but we nudged him to buy a lesson the next day. He did, and persevered, and actually did have that “breakthrough”. My son, a skilled and virtually fearless skiier, got three days of skiing on Dad’s nickel. I got hours of “guy” time with my kid, and we all had a great time bonding on the car rides up and down the passes.
