Ski Vacation

Picture this.  You’ve just moved to Upstate NY.  Saratoga Springs, to be exact. A place where the winters are real. And long.  Real long.  So, you decide to become outdoor winter activity people and the first activity you take up is skiing.

This was our reality many moons ago when we were young and our prefrontal cortexes, which control judgement, were still developing.

We had previously enjoyed the occasional ski trip.  In fact, we had recently skied Mount Killington in Vermont and aside from all the muscle soreness after the fact, had had a really good time.

We decided to fully embrace this skiing thing.  We went out and bought all the necessary equipment.  No more rentals for us!

We took a week’s vacation the week before Christmas, planning to ski the whole week. We headed to Gore Mountain, which was only a short drive away, on the first day of the vacation.

We should have known right off the bat that things weren’t going to go well.  For one thing, the temperature at the top of the mountain was -40 degrees with wind chill.  The conditions were icy.  But we ignored those signs (still developing pre-frontal cortexes, remember?) and proceeded to the bunny slope where we took a few practice runs.  After that we were ready to test ourselves on a trail.

At Killington there were plenty of green (beginner) trails at the top of the mountain.  We asked a ski patrol person if there were green trails at the top of this mountain.  He said yes.  We hop on the chair lift.  To the top we go!

Challenge number 1:  There were no green trails.  Perhaps we took the wrong chair lift?  All there were was one blue (intermediate) and one black (expert).  Well, that decision point was easy.  Clearly, we chose blue.

Challenge number 2:  Moguls.  Neither of us had ever skied on moguls before.  The blue trail had moguls right at the start of it.  We both stood there, freezing by the way, contemplating our next move.  Did I mention being young and having underdeveloped pre-frontal cortexes? I figured well, nothing to do but give it a go.  I pushed off and approached my first mogul.

What happened next is difficult for me to describe as I am not really certain the exact way it all went down.  All I know is I was airborne and hurtling through space.  Where before I had been upright, I now was flat on my back with my head in the direction pointing down the mountain.  My right leg was awkwardly bent under my left leg.  My skis were still attached.  I tried to move my leg so as to straighten the one that was bent.  Nothin’ doin’.  The pain was excruciating.  I laid there helpless.  Icy, wet cold seeping into my bones.

Ernie meanwhile, was still at the top of the trail and witnessed my fall.  He knew he needed to get to me to help me.  He too decided to just go for it, and clearly he was the better athlete of the two of us.  He negotiated the moguls just fine and skied over to me.  He helped me get up.  We moved off to the side of the trail.  He asked me how I felt. I gingerly tested my knee.

Challenge number 3:  I got walloped in my newly injured knee by an even younger, more stupid skier, who also didn’t know how to ski a mogul.  His ski whacked me in the back of my injured knee.  We both went down.  Ernie helped me up again.  Very young, stupid skier didn’t even apologize I don’t think.  Being so young, he bounced right up and without a glance back continued skiing.

Ernie and I exchanged glances.  We gave each other a nod.  Ok, let’s do this.  Only way down this mountain, is down this mountain.  We started to ski.  Within seconds though, every time I tried to shift my weight to turn, I felt shooting pain.  I couldn’t do it.  You need your knees to ski.  They are an integral part to controlling your speed and direction.  If you can’t use your knees you can’t ski.

I looked at him with a bit of trepidation and a feeling of, what do we do now?  It’s horrifically cold, especially if you aren’t moving.  I can’t move.  How do we get down this stinkin’ mountain?

As luck, providence, the hand of God, whatever you want to call it, would have it, at that moment a ski patrol guy came by (not the one who misinformed us thankfully).  He asked if we were ok.  We explained the situation.

He replied, “Ok, we can help you”.  He contacted his team with his walkie talkie (pre-cell phones) and before you know it, 5 more ski patrol guys showed up.  With a sled.  That has rope attached to it.  Suddenly I understood how I was going to get down this mountain.

He turned to me and said, “We are going to strap you into this sled and then we are going to ski you down.”  To Ernie he said, “You need to ski down and meet us in the medical room.”

Ernie and I looked at each other as if it were the last time we would ever see each other again.  Rose and Jack’s goodbye on the Titanic paled in comparison.

They strapped me into this sled, with my head once again in the direction of pointing down the mountain. The backwards feeling alone was most unsettling. They wrapped me in burlap, trussed up like a sack of potatoes.  They left a tiny peep hole for me to look out.  Which at first felt like a good thing, less claustrophobic. But I quickly realized it was a bad thing.

There were three guys on either side of the sled, all holding ropes.  They started skiing me down.  I saw tops of pine trees flying by, outside my peephole. This is when I decided closing my eyes was far better than looking out.  I heard them talking to each other, saying things like, ‘Hold on, hold on”, “Watch out”, “Turn”.  I suddenly got this vision of some of them losing the rope and I go flying off the side of the mountain in my sled, like some kind of projectile catapulted out of a cannon.  Especially because the ride wasn’t smooth. It was bumpy and I and the sled were frequently airborne.

I fervently began praying for my life and their strength and ability to ski down an icy mountain while holding a rope attached to a sled which had a person attached to said sled.

What seemed like forever, and we finally got far enough down the mountain where they hitched me and my sled up to a snow mobile.  ‘Bye boys thanks for the ride and not letting go! I am motored the rest of the way.  When we arrived at the medical room, two ski patrol guys unwrap me and released me from the sled.  They each took a leg and I’ve got one arm around each of them, as they carried me into the medical room.

Phew.  Made it.  They set me down and I looked around for Ernie, certain that he would have made it here before me.  But there was no Ernie.

About an hour later, Ernie showed up.  He looked like the Abominable Snowman.  He was crusted over with ice and snow.  I was more concerned for him at that point than I was for myself.

“What happened to you?” I asked, with much concern.

He said, “Well, I must have taken the wrong trail.  Because it did not go all the way down the mountain.  I had to take another chair lift back up the mountain and then come back down again.  I maybe fell a couple of times along the way.”

So much for our week of winter outdoor activity.  Turned out that I had a torn meniscus.  A couple months of physical therapy and I was feeling better. 

We knew that we needed to give skiing another shot.  I mean, we had all the equipment after all.  We made the investment.  And what is that expression about getting back on the horse after a fall? 

Since Gore Mountain gored us the last time, we headed to Vermont where we had had positive experiences. We arrived at Mount Snow.  Conditions were good.  We went up the bunny slope for our initial run.  I stood there.  I looked down the slope.  “Get going,” I told myself.  But I didn’t move.  “C’mon, go! You got this.”  Still, nothing.  Ernie is next to me waiting.  I turned to him and say, “Nope, can’t do it. I’ll meet you in the lodge.”  I took off my skis and walked down the slope and directly into the lodge.  My skiing days were definitively over.

I got into work on Monday and asked if anyone wanted a brand new set of skis, only used once.  A coworker bought them.

Once divested of that sad reminder of our lost outdoor winter activity hopes, we quickly adapted to being cozy, indoor winter people for the duration of the season.  Backgammon anyone? Yahtzee?

Spring finally arrived and we emerged from our wintry, indoor cocoon, ready to become outdoor people again.  Our new activity? Mountain biking! Two new mountain bikes, biking shorts, helmets, gloves and we were ready to go!  Youth and still-developing pre-frontal cortexes prevailed.  And fortunately, our biking excursions were incident-free.

We were on a roll.  What next?  Hmmm, maybe we should try sailing?!!