1st X Country Ski Trip—True Story (I'm sorry to say)

So if you bug somebody long enough they will give in. My friend Linda has been bugging me to go cross country skiing with her for as long as I've known her. I promised her that if I ever quit smoking, I would go. Then she started to bug me to go snow shoeing. I said, "If I'm not healthy enough to cross country ski, what makes you think I can trounce around in 6 feet of snow wearing Big Foot feet? I promise I'll go when I quit smoking." So I quit in May 2008. That day, she said, "Want to come up skiing?" So I had to fine-tune my promise to 'when I've quit for at least a year...' and now that time has come, and Linda actually got me up to snow shoe on New Year's Eve followed by cross country skiing on New Year's Day. The snow shoeing was fun, and I made it back in one piece so I might even go again.

And yesterday it was cross country skiing. So much can happen in two hours time, has anybody ever noticed that?

I was skiing in boots that were too big for me, so I wore thick socks and tied the boot laces tight enough to make my feet swell. Problem solved.

I got into it right away, the rhythm and shush of the skis, the blue sky, the pines, the white, white snow and sweet, sweet evergreen air. The birds chirping, the ravens grunting, the crows calling, cawing, everything added to the delight of adventure, to the beauty of the day, to having so much fun with my friend. Even though other skiers were passing me as if I were at a standstill, I was proud that 1. I was out there, and that 2. I not only taken up a new sport, but one wicked hell of a workout sport, and at 56 years and two days old! #2 was pointed out by and terrific encouragement from Linda, who also told me I was doing great, etc., all things that made me smile and keep on.

We went along for some time, and I found I could go uphill without getting out of breath and that encouraged me, too, because secretly, I thought this sport would kill me pretty fast. Linda, on skate skis, was often up ahead for short times, then she would stop and wait for me. At one point she asked for my camera so she could take a photo of me. We were on a wide, open path, and I posed sillily for a photo, my chin on my hands. I took some of her, and then, putting my mittens back on, I suddenly doubled over with pain in my lower gut. It eased, and I started to ski again, hoping it would go away, but within seconds it was back with a vengeance. Linda helped me get my skis off fast, and I ran up onto the hillside sinking in to ever deepening snow until I could go no further and dove behind a tree. I was trying to be subtle, but it was diarrhea and it was exploding out of me. So of course, suddenly here come skiers, they were everywhere, coming from uphill, downhill, and there I was, in a bright red beret, squatting behind a tree. I pulled a branch to try and cover myself somewhat and dumped about five pounds of snow onto my head and body. Linda said I was really camouflaged then. So she's saying HI to everybody, trying to distract them from me and trying not to laugh, when two big dogs ran up to stare at me curiously, and all I want is to be left alone to do what I had to do. Then the guy who owns the dogs (and a ridiculous hat) is staring at me! I gave him a look like, really? You're really staring at me? He looked away and the dogs ran off and Linda started up the hill with little bitty napkins from the coffee shop. She had about five of them and I needed about three rolls of toilet paper. She had to take her skis off to get them to me because the snow was so deep. In the mean time, I'm sweeping snow from beside me over the mess, and now my nether regions are in snow, literally, freezing solid, as are my hands. Somehow I managed to clean off and get my zipper back up with frozen fingers. I was so soaked with snow by then, shivering. I should have turned back, but I thought that was the end of it, and just wanted to get moving again and warm up a bit.

Linda lent me an extra pair of knit gloves, and we skied on. We started to hit gentle slopes that took us back downhill. The first time I started going fast, I panicked and made myself fall down. It was awfully hard to get up again, and I wondered what the big deal was about going fast. What could happen? I fall down? I JUST MADE MYSELF FALL DOWN. So I started to relax a bit, and I did fall down. A lot. Up, down, up, down, always going downhill. One time I was flailing about, trying to catch my balance when my ski pole went into a tree and that stopped me cold and WOP! Down onto my belly I went with a WHOOSH, and I lay there laughing.

And then I got it, and skied fast, downhill, and stayed on my feet. I was so pleased! I did fall some more, though, then started to notice that every time I had to get up onto my feet again it got harder, that I was not only more breathless, but starting to feel nauseou. I mean really nauseous, and weak, so I would drape myself over a tree branch and just sort of hang there, waiting to breathe again, waiting for the sickness to pass. I had just gotten over my fear of falling, and was now starting to dread it.

When one is sick or in an accident, the last thing one wants is an audience. And every damn time I draped myself over a branch skiers would appear out of nowhere. I fell again, and now Linda is starting to get concerned about me, and here come a huge crowd of girls. We were all at an intersection of trails, and they stop to decide which way to go. I'm trying not to throw up, and Linda is asking me if I'm going to throw up. Then a man and a woman came skiing up. They advised the girls on their path choice, then headed towards me. The man stopped when he saw me and asked, "Are you alright?" I knew the jig was up, I was most likely pale and extremely dehydrated by then (though I kept drinking water, it was so cold it hit my stomach like a fist). I told the man I was a tad nauseated. He asked if it was exhaustion or over-exersion, and I told him it was my first time skiing, but that I'd be okay. He said, "It's down hill from here on in, except for one small hill, then you're at the parking lot." I thanked him and everyone finally moved on. While he's skiing away, and Linda is mouthing something at me. I mouthed, "What?" and she mouthed again and I mouthed again, "What?"

I'm just trying to stand up straight, I'm just trying to not throw up, and she's all hopped up, whispering louder and louder, and finally I hear, "...KINS! .....TIMBUKTU!" "WHAT?" And then she whisper-hollers, "THAT'S MARK JENKINS!" and I realize he's the local author/celeb who writes for Outside Magazine and has written many adventure books, the Mark Jenkins who's been to Timbuktu, who bicycled across Siberia and who is pretty amazing, so I told Linda that now I was really glad I didn't puke on him.

The rest of the downhill she's verbally elbowing me, "Mark JENKINS stopped to take CARE of you! Mark JENKINS askedhow you are!" "AND HE'S CUTE!" She was all agog, and I'm just wanting to get back to the car and go home. Linda skied up ahead, grinning ear-to-ear.

Going up that last little hill was the worst. It was little, but it was steep. I walked sideways up the hill, not wanting to take the skis off. I was almost to the top when I got myself off path and into deep snow where of course I fell down. I was so angry I yelled something very rude. There I was again. And I couldn't get out of it this time, just couldn't maneuver out of the deep snow and onto the packed trail. I finally gave up and tried to take the skis off, but didn't have the strength to push the button, with my fingers or the pole. So I just lay back and thought how good a brandy would be right then. A bottle of it. A big bottle.

Linda was nowhere around, and when I wanted people, there were none. So I had to bite the bullet and roll, squirm, and crawl out of the deep snow. I did it with much struggle, then pushed myself back upright to my feet. I shuffled forward carefully back into the deep snow to where the trees are, and dropping my poles, draped over a last branch. I could see Linda now that I was on my feet, and she's taking a picture of me. I'm thinking she'll tell Jim, ...and this was taken just before she died. She skied back to me and that's when the cramps hit again. She got my skis off and I walked as fast as I could down the hill and around the turn, and down one last hill to the outhouse, where there was warmth (out of the wind at any rate), privacy and toilet paper. When I came back outside, who runs up but the two goofy dogs, and here comes Mr. Ugly Hat, just in time to see me walk out of an outhouse.

It was an awesome day, really it was, considering. And if it was that much fun, and if I am this sore this morning, I have found my winter sport, and will stay sane until bike riding season returns. It was so awesome and so ridiculously funny that I'm getting my own skis, and I'm going skiing tomorrow.

I think Solitude is the best place in Utah. http://www.skisolitude.com/

I would suggest a snowboard!

Copper or Keystone are really fun and if you like a resort that it HUGE, I agree...Vail and Snowmass are perfect.

I have heard of the smaller resorts being awesome and less crowded, but I don't know what they are...somebody know?

I heard Eldora is a sheet of ice year round...no good!

On the way home from the slopes, I always see people doing this at Lake Dillon...it looks like a lot of fun! How high can you get doing this? I have only seen them do 10-15 feet.