Skiing

I've been skiing this year. It was pretty good. The snow was OK and the weather was phenomenal and the slopes weren't crowded.

I skied up to Mt. Abram. It's about an hour and a half from here in Portland, but a lovely drive up Route 26. Plus I've been skiing there for 22 odd years. Plus Dad gets me in for free.

Plus it's part of the ritual. Skiing has a whole, unrecognized ritual which is equally as important to the experience as whizzing down the trails on a pair of flat boards. Or on a single board if that's your (lame) "style."

Kidding! Snowboarding's OK. And we can all agree it beats the hell out of telemarking.

So the ritual. Get up early on a weekend day. Pack your stuff. You need a whole new suit for this exercise. You pack your snow pants, parka, mittens, spare gloves, specialized boots, hats, goggles, scarves, face warmers, sweatshirts and extra layers. Grab the skis and the poles and throw them in the car.

Drive out to the country.

Often a scenic and lovely drive. Route 26 certainly is.

Arrive. Unpack the car. Purchase your ticket. Change! This is an important part of the ritual indeed. You can't just change. It's important that as you're putting on your ridiculous costume which (ridiculous though it may be) will keep you warm and dry you chat with the folks changing around you. Talk about favorite trails. Things you've missed. Funny anecdotes about desperately having to pee while out skiing (happens to everyone). What sort of liquor you have in your flask.

Make sure you're wearing a sweater. And a sweater you normally wouldn't be caught dead in. A sweater that would embarrass one of those snooty frat guys in College Movies. It's important.

You're all set. You've strapped on your bulky boots which make walking a new adventure (though I'm a pro). Stumble out of the lodge, grab your skis. Click in. Get in the lift line.

Ride up. Enjoy it. When was the last time you were hanging out in a chair lift? Floating twenty or more feet in the air. Turn around, crane your neck around and look awkwardly above the heads of those on the lift behind you. You can see for miles across wilderness and snow and roads carving patchwork patterns across the landscape. Occasionally a cell tower juts up or a silo. Appreciate the majesty of what you're about to do. Think about the edges of your skis melting the snow to water as you turn. The sounds you'll hear. Maybe you'll start a conversation and have to stop for the wind rushing past your ears. Maybe you'll keep shouting louder and louder. What will this view look like when you're descending the mountainside at 30 MPH on a pair of thin wooden planks with sharp metal edges?

Slide off the lift. Maybe you've got a favorite first run. Maybe you're playing it by ear. Letting the skis decide. Either way, inhale, point them boards downhill and push, because baby you're off.

And at first it's a little slow going while you remember what to do. For some (ahem) this is only a turn or two. For others it's most of a trail. Some might even need refresher lessons.

My favorite thing to do when skiing is to try and not think at all. To try and almost achieve a sort of Zen-trance. Those moments of pure ecstasy as your edge sinks in after a rooster tail cascade of snow shot up and you take off on a turn. Go over to the edges and feel some of that untraveled and still fresh snow. Traverse the middle and watch out for bumps. Catch a little air.

Stop. Breathe. Look around.

Think about technique. Think about other people's techniques. There used to be a guy who skied Mt. Abram fairly regularly who would put his poles up to his armpits and hold his arms out like a T. His turns weren't great but he'd try and touch the tip of his pole to the ground, dragging it for a few yards before turning the other way. He wasn't the most technically accomplished skier. But he was a Skier. He was there for himself, appreciating his sport in the way only he could.

Slide to a stop at the bottom.

Get ready to do it again. But beware, Gravity is a Harsh Mistress and you might well fall. It's all part of the experience, though. Laugh it off. Even if you've broken something, you broke it while skiing. It's a story. Something for the lounge after the day is out. They've got Ski Patrols for that sorta shit, anyway (Mt. Abram's Ski Patrol motto: You bag it, we drag it).

After a while, you need some hot chocolate. Your face is a bit chilled. You're invigorated by the cold but your legs need a minute. You just like hot chocolate. You'll need it at some point. Ski down to the lodge, pop out of your bindings. Clunk into the cafeteria area. Put one of the cups under the Hot Chocolate machine and press the button as in a nearly profane orgasm of hot water and chocolate mix your cup is filled. Wait! Release the button just a moment after the machine recommends. It's better this way.

Sip.

Enjoy.

Do it all again.