ski bums


After my first time skiing in three years and maybe fifth time downhill skiing ever, I have concluded that no, I really do not understand the sport. Perhaps it's that I didn't grow up with it, living in the flat plainland of central Michigan. In the midwest, lump-like hills are called "mountains," and the first time I ventured onto one with the intention of skiing down it, I ended up on a rescue toboggan for a twisted knee and my sorry ass was hauled to the emergency room. I think I ruined my best friend's 16th b-day ski getaway. So maybe I've never lived that trauma down, but something about hurtling down a mountain with two slick planks strapped to my immobilized ankles just... isn't appealing to me.

Nevertheless, I realize that I've only "just" learned to ski, and as a novice I can't pass up the chance to try once again to wrap my head around downhill winter sports. This time, Justin, Micah, Rachel, and I got a free ride (literally, yuk yuk) to Mount Hood Meadows thanks to the generosity of Rachel's mom, who volunteers on the slopes, and an old friend of Rachel's working in rentals.



The Northwest resorts have all been hurting for a lack of snow this season and many are closed. Mt. Hood Meadows, though open, didn't have much, as you can see from the background of the above photo. There was supposedly a 32-inch base at the bottom of the mountain, but we all agreed it was closer to five or less in places. The snow started out icy in places from the overnight freeze, but by noon most of the runs, except those at the top of the mountain, were slush.

Barring bad snow conditions, it was a beautiful day to ski. Justin "borrowed" (read: bought with the intention of returning) me some gear from REI, because I had absolutely nothing to wear, but it turned out that I could have skiied in rain pants and a windbreaker. It was so warm that Micah skiied all day in a long-sleeved shirt.

Because I'm a gimp on skis I stuck to green runs and probably considerably slowed the pace and enjoyment of everyone else... it's hard to improve much skiing for four hours once every few years. Nevertheless, I had a good time even after getting stranded on one definitely non-green route and spending the better part of an hour picking my way down the mountain.

I'm not a seasoned skiier, so I have none of the traditional gripes with snowboarders, but I must say this, as a faction generally representative of the counter-culture "up-yours," anti-establishmentarian youth (much in the same vein as skateboarders), a lot of them certainly board like assholes. There were, by far, a greater number of boarders out there being dumb shits than there were skiiers. Must be the age demographic.

And, I'm sorry, I know that boarders spend a lot more time sitting down just because of the logistics of the board. And they have to strap in and yada yada. But the slope is not a fucking lounge and I find it unacceptable for groups of 20 people just to CHILL at the top of lifts and at random places on the slopes like a bunch of sitting ducks. That's just rude.

It didn't help that some douche body-checked me partway down one run, causing us to both do 180s on the slope. Ah well, I could have fucked up just as easily, so I'm glad it wasn't me.

All in all, a good time, great workout and beautiful view. Maybe I'm one step closer to understanding just what the hell people find so appealing about hurtling down a frozen substance with a billion other people while avoiding stationery and moving obstacles. I'd still rather jump out of a plane for my controlled freefall. ;)