I am not a good skier
Stratton Travel Blog› entry 3 of 7 › view all entries
The morning started off well enough. Belle woke me up around 7:30am, its a wonderful thing to be woken up by a cute voice early in the morning, when you aren't used to it -- it feels sort of homey. I was out of bed by 8 and in my ski clothes by and out the door by 8:30. Julie and I dropped off the kids at school and headed to South Londonderry to get breakfast -- ham and cheese and butter baguettes -- I scarfed it down. Next we were off to get my boots, poles, and skis from Julie's friend Sean. He fitted me well, in some kick ass red ski boots -- I looked the part, although my ski pants are from a decade ago and have a not too popular elastic leg opening, but other than that, I looked like a skier.
We were at the mountain and in the gear by 10am, I kept telling Julie that I am a beginner skier, well a beginner skier 10 years ago.
At the top, it didn't seem so bad. It was relatively flat, I got to practice my wedge and my turns and I was stopping okay. Then out of nowhere, the mountain got pretty steep for a beginner with trails crisscrossing and decisions about which trail to take and lots of trees, and the fear of God, filling me with dread.
I was behind Julie, so the first time I fell, she was pretty close, so she talked me through it. It wasn't too bad. There is some maneuvering to get skis in place and poles convenient, but I was on groomed snow, so after a minute of so, I was up and skiing again, but I have to say my spirit was broken. When you fall, all of those visions from Wide World of Sports and the agony of defeat fill your mind. Skis make your legs twist in weird ways and gravity keeps things moving downhill, when you really kust want to be still. I just kept falling down. I couldn't control my speed very well, which was a huge problem when I needed to time to reflect on my decisions, choices, and the other people skiing around me.
After about the third fall, I couldn't see Julie anymore. Which, honestly, was a relief, this was bad enough and I just needed to get through it on my own. There was one fall which happened at a crossroads of about 4 trails and a terrain park, where I totally lost my nerve. I just sat in the snow, sweaty, beet red, and defeated. I tried to figure out the best way to go on, thats the problem with skiing, you have to make it down a mountain somehow, and I had to figure it out. I recalled all that I had learned about turning and controlling speed -- but I couldn't make it work. I took my skis off. I tried to prop myself up, but being in ungroomed snow at this point I just pushed into soft powder until I found the ground about 2 feet below me, but I finally got up and walked to the other side of the trail, and somehow managed to put my skis back on and just went.
There was only one more bad part. It was really beautiful though, so I made it. I was skiing along, and then it looked like the trail just ended into a covered bridge. Actually, the trail dropped into a little valley under the bridge, so in my panic, I of course fell. I got the skis on, one more time and just went. I was fine and then I saw the base lodge, and skied for about one more minute.
That was the other bad part of the day. I am allergic to some preservatives, and apparently these nachos were built only of preservatives. I got a killer headache and threw up aobut 20 times and then passed out for three hours, it was a bad sight.