I took a personal day off on Tuesday to
Mar. 12th, 2008 07:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
threadwalkerski down sheets of ice noted as "black diamond" (expert runs) at Bear Valley ski resort on Mt Reba.
I doubt there were more than 3 dozen people on the mountain in addition to the 2-3 classes of kids (4-8 yr olds doing advanced runs), so it felt like it was MY mountain for the day.
There was a 2hr window where the sun softened the snow and it reminded me of gliding across gelato and not facing frozen death. When I made my turns, snowy spray shot out in my wake. I kept thinking there was someone following me, but it was just the sound of my own air-borne wake hitting the slopes. Then the slopes refroze around 3 pm and the last hour was once again spent on ice. However, instead of being smooth sheets of ice like in the morning, it was chopped and cut with the uneven, deep tracks where skiiers and boarders had created trails when the snow was soft. That type of terrain is tricky and begs the skiis to get stuck in a rut and throw you off balance. Fortunately, I got through my day without falling and I have no soreness today; just the afterglow of a great day of skiing.
And maybe a bit of wind-burn.
The winning run
The bro and I had a friendly bet about out-skiing each other. The bet was made while under the influence of alcohol last fall sometime. The terms, winning conditions and payout were never clearly defined. We were still commenting on the vague nature of the whole thing on lift ride up to the top of the mountain yesterday.
After one basic run and one intermediate run, we dove into the Black Diamonds. Most of the runs were sheets of ice, which is less like skiing and more like controlled high-velocity sliding and skidding. It's a lot of work and it's tough on the joints. Also, falling on ice hurts a lot. It bruises, it can wrench a ski and twist a joint, and it abraids skin. Total suckage.
The 2nd to last run was "Cornice", a black diamond where the top is a slight overhang. If you peak over the top, it looks like a 30ft vertical drop with a sharp swoop at the bottom. But it isn't. It's worse because it's actually an overhang. Jeff went over the edge and I waited at the top for him to come back into view further down the slope. I do that because I like him to be far enough ahead of me (down slope) so that if I wipe out, I don't take him down with me. However, he never came back into view. I scootched over to the edge and peer over. I couldn't see him, so I had to creap even closer and risk sliding down the slope sideways and head first. That's when I realized the top is actually a slight overhang and he was directly under me. I could barely see his helmet poking out from the side of the overhang. He'd missed his turn and "fallen" against the mountain, which was a lot like leaning against a wall at that steep incline.
I yelled down, "Are you okay?"
He yelled up, "It's a sheet of ice."
My inner voice commented, "No shit it's a sheet of ice. Why did you think this was a good idea?" And then, creaping away from the edge, I contemplated my path down, "OMG! Jeff fell! You're going to die. Meet the Slope of Death."
I spent about 30 seconds freaking out and looking for an escape from the Slope of Death. There was none. I also faced the situation that backing down meant Jeff won the bet and that thought was louder and more demanding than the "flee from certain death" thought. So with half my brain screaming in protest and the other half doing the driving, I went over the edge and down the sheet of ice. I stuck the first 2 turns, picked up a ton of speed, missed my 3rd turn and, instead of falling, I leaned forward and headed straight down the mountain.
It was like flying down a funnel of ice. But the ice was choppy and uneven, so I didn't attempt to slow myself or turn while I was shooting the funnel. I am EXTREMELY greatful for all the weight-lifting, yoga, and endurance fitness I've been doing. I went down the slope tucked in a deep squat with my head near my knees, my core fully engaged and I'm pretty sure my was butt higher than my head. I know that I look NOTHING like an advanced skiier and there are times when I ponder my mediocre technique and skills; I totally lack style points. But when faced with Certain Death, I chant that car add, "Wider is better". My technique gets me down the mountain in one piece, I don't get in anyone else's way, and I'm not unsafe to others. Style points don't matter when compared to safety.
When I pulled out of my headlong race, I was whooping and air pumping. I couldn't help it; I'd escaped death and had the most amazing speed race down the side of a mountain. It was awesome and the most amazing rush... It was what I'd been looking for all day.
Jeff caught up and had one comment, "I think you owned me."
I was grascious and replied, "Yes, I think I did," without mockery or taunting.
He tried that run one more time and didn't stick it. I opted for an intermediate run on the assumption that I'd already pushed my luck for the day. So the victory beer was mine.
Later we figured that even though he's a better skier, my stamina is better and at the end of the day, that's what keeps you up on your skis.
To be continued next year.
I doubt there were more than 3 dozen people on the mountain in addition to the 2-3 classes of kids (4-8 yr olds doing advanced runs), so it felt like it was MY mountain for the day.
There was a 2hr window where the sun softened the snow and it reminded me of gliding across gelato and not facing frozen death. When I made my turns, snowy spray shot out in my wake. I kept thinking there was someone following me, but it was just the sound of my own air-borne wake hitting the slopes. Then the slopes refroze around 3 pm and the last hour was once again spent on ice. However, instead of being smooth sheets of ice like in the morning, it was chopped and cut with the uneven, deep tracks where skiiers and boarders had created trails when the snow was soft. That type of terrain is tricky and begs the skiis to get stuck in a rut and throw you off balance. Fortunately, I got through my day without falling and I have no soreness today; just the afterglow of a great day of skiing.
And maybe a bit of wind-burn.
The winning run
The bro and I had a friendly bet about out-skiing each other. The bet was made while under the influence of alcohol last fall sometime. The terms, winning conditions and payout were never clearly defined. We were still commenting on the vague nature of the whole thing on lift ride up to the top of the mountain yesterday.
After one basic run and one intermediate run, we dove into the Black Diamonds. Most of the runs were sheets of ice, which is less like skiing and more like controlled high-velocity sliding and skidding. It's a lot of work and it's tough on the joints. Also, falling on ice hurts a lot. It bruises, it can wrench a ski and twist a joint, and it abraids skin. Total suckage.
The 2nd to last run was "Cornice", a black diamond where the top is a slight overhang. If you peak over the top, it looks like a 30ft vertical drop with a sharp swoop at the bottom. But it isn't. It's worse because it's actually an overhang. Jeff went over the edge and I waited at the top for him to come back into view further down the slope. I do that because I like him to be far enough ahead of me (down slope) so that if I wipe out, I don't take him down with me. However, he never came back into view. I scootched over to the edge and peer over. I couldn't see him, so I had to creap even closer and risk sliding down the slope sideways and head first. That's when I realized the top is actually a slight overhang and he was directly under me. I could barely see his helmet poking out from the side of the overhang. He'd missed his turn and "fallen" against the mountain, which was a lot like leaning against a wall at that steep incline.
I yelled down, "Are you okay?"
He yelled up, "It's a sheet of ice."
My inner voice commented, "No shit it's a sheet of ice. Why did you think this was a good idea?" And then, creaping away from the edge, I contemplated my path down, "OMG! Jeff fell! You're going to die. Meet the Slope of Death."
I spent about 30 seconds freaking out and looking for an escape from the Slope of Death. There was none. I also faced the situation that backing down meant Jeff won the bet and that thought was louder and more demanding than the "flee from certain death" thought. So with half my brain screaming in protest and the other half doing the driving, I went over the edge and down the sheet of ice. I stuck the first 2 turns, picked up a ton of speed, missed my 3rd turn and, instead of falling, I leaned forward and headed straight down the mountain.
It was like flying down a funnel of ice. But the ice was choppy and uneven, so I didn't attempt to slow myself or turn while I was shooting the funnel. I am EXTREMELY greatful for all the weight-lifting, yoga, and endurance fitness I've been doing. I went down the slope tucked in a deep squat with my head near my knees, my core fully engaged and I'm pretty sure my was butt higher than my head. I know that I look NOTHING like an advanced skiier and there are times when I ponder my mediocre technique and skills; I totally lack style points. But when faced with Certain Death, I chant that car add, "Wider is better". My technique gets me down the mountain in one piece, I don't get in anyone else's way, and I'm not unsafe to others. Style points don't matter when compared to safety.
When I pulled out of my headlong race, I was whooping and air pumping. I couldn't help it; I'd escaped death and had the most amazing speed race down the side of a mountain. It was awesome and the most amazing rush... It was what I'd been looking for all day.
Jeff caught up and had one comment, "I think you owned me."
I was grascious and replied, "Yes, I think I did," without mockery or taunting.
He tried that run one more time and didn't stick it. I opted for an intermediate run on the assumption that I'd already pushed my luck for the day. So the victory beer was mine.
Later we figured that even though he's a better skier, my stamina is better and at the end of the day, that's what keeps you up on your skis.
To be continued next year.
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no subject
Date: 2008-03-12 04:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-12 04:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-13 08:14 pm (UTC)I wonder if my new helmet gave me a bit more daring courage than usual.
Ayieee!
Date: 2008-03-12 06:11 pm (UTC)Re: Ayieee!
Date: 2008-03-13 08:16 pm (UTC)