Ski finale

Bob, C.Z. and our neighbor finishing up a run

The ski season is now over for the year.  C.Z. and I skied five times altogether, during which we progressed from not knowing how to even walk on skis to, in C.Z.'s case, whooshing down every black diamond on the mountain, and in my case, at least beginning the transition to parallel turns on the greens.  This was, happily, more than I expected. And Bob got to go three times, during which he renewed his long-neglected love of skiing and also meet lots of people he usually only hears us talk about. 

One thing I think we all like about skiing is that it gives a bunch of city kids a relatively safe way to spend the day off by themselves or in groups of three or four, enjoying the outdoors and getting lots of exercise. C.Z. is now almost up to speed with the kids who have been skiing for three or four years.  While I am slower and usually ski by myself, I don't mind that.  I just wave when I see someone and continue ribboning from side to side, practicing turns. On the last run down on Wednesday, I stopped in a meadow halfway down the mountain and spent a few minutes gazing at the Pennsylvania foothills in the distance.  I don't usually look all the way down the mountain, because early on it had a way of making me panic.  But now I'm far enough along that I'm beginning to enjoy where I am, right at that moment, even while pointing downhill.   

Trails as seen from the lodge.  Bob and C.Z. ski all of them, but I only ski the one on the far right. (Bob notes that they all seem steeper in real life.  But of course!)

A note for Western skiers:  From what Bob says, it's a completely different experience skiing there than it is here.  To begin with, most days we were skiing on machine-made snow.  The snow has a way of getting both icy and slushy as the day progresses, I think because the snowboarders push the snow up on each side of the runs, exposing the middle.  So instead of whooshing through powder, you often hear a scrape on the turns. One day it was even so icy that the grooves from the snow grooming never wore down.  Everyone tells me that the trails are all steeper out West, so that our blues are Western greens, and so on.  But one other thing people tell me is that if you learn to ski here, you can ski anywhere.  So, watch out, Western mountains, here we come!  (Be very afraid.)

After a long day of skiing, what better place to stop in for a doughnut before the drive back?

Logistical note: I didn't always want to get up at 5:30 to make lunches and ride two hours in a rental car, because I'd tend not to sleep much the night before.  But once we got our routine down, we enjoyed it. We'd lay out ski people on the floor the night before. Shop for easy-to-pack, high energy food (like chocolate, of course!). Make thermal cups full of coffee for the trip out. And at the last minute, run around the corner to pick up a sack of bagels for breakfast.  We enjoyed sharing a van with our former building neighbors who now live two blocks away.  We enjoyed the ride over the George Washington Bridge and saying goodbye to the lights of Manhattan just as the dawn broke, and seeing the rocky New Jersey countryside emerge beyond the industrial suburbs. And after a long day of skiing, we enjoyed stopping by the bakery above on the way out of town. I'd have something ready to heat up when we got home at around 7 p.m., or we'd pick something up, and we'd all pile into bed to read before falling asleep early, utterly exhausted and very satisfied to have used up every last drop of energy during the day.  We'll be doing this again next year!

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If I don't post again for a while, it's because we've gotten busy with some doctor appointments. I'll be back again eventually.