I was recently queried about any desire to go cross-country skiing – to which my firm response is and has been (since age 20something) – “no, thank you.”
And whynot, praytell?
Simply ask Pete (a.k.a. Pete the Cheap, as he was affectionately known at the time – though by now, over 30 years later, most likely he’s outgrown that piece) about the provocative notion of bringing 2 city slickers (keep in mind, there is NO SNOW in San Francisco or surrounding environs) up to the Sierra ski courses, then proudly eschewing the pleasures of a “too commercial” nearly-paved cross-country snow course in favor of the (“…but, it’s FREE!”) natural cross-country experience off-road amongst the trees of nature and far from the maddening snow bunnies.
“Manmade courses r too commercial” my ASS….
Only two problems with this proposition:
1. I had never been on skiis before
2. My skiis apparently held a magnet and every tree in the area held a strange attractor
The result: each time I managed to totter onto my skiis and push off – they firmly and unhesitatingly found the next tree where a circle of snow had dipped into a round perfect for head-first contemplation.
Oh, were YouTube in existence at this time! I’d be a STAR!
The Boys (Bill and Pete) would skii up to me, release my skiis, rescue my poles, and spend about 25 minutes hauling my ass out from said circle – only to have me move gaily right on to the next one!
Ski Adventure: 5 hours
Diane’s Actual Time Skiing: 5 minutes
The only saving grace was that being unable to move at more than .0005 MPH, there was no injury possibilities – only the (apparently hilarious, if The Boys were any indicator) nativity scene of a girl goin’ down.
I had had it by Tree #5.
I could hear The Boys skii up to my assumed position (i.e. head-down in the snow hole, skiis still intact on feets, poles at angles outside the snow hole). But actually I was quite comfortable where I was – thank you very much. The prospect of repeating the entire rescue scenario only to hit ‘repeat’ on the tree hole segment of the entertainment had lost its luster about 3 trees back.
Take my advice: SO Not Fun!
(…and neatly defines ‘epic failure’…)
Pete (after a moment of respectful silence – during which no movement was observed from the snow hole): Uh – you ok down there?
Moi (chirpily): Oh, I am JUST FINE.
Bill (impatient at the lack of movement): Sooo – you want us to haul you out? Again?
Moi (happily): Nope, I am just fine. You two go on and have fun. I’m gonna stay right where I am.
After some discussion amongst the rescue team it was determined this wasn’t a great option as the likelihood of freezing loomed its ugly head (and, may I say – it was far preferable to the circle of fifths I’d been experiencing, so I was actually OKAY with the notion) – and so I was summarily hauled out yet again – this time to point my skiis directly towards the local lodge, hot chocolate, a roaring fire, and a big picture window whereby I could watch OTHER SKIIERS find their own trees (only, nobody seemed as adept at the process as I…)
…NOW we’re talking….
So when I think of a snow trip, it’s with the above elements (hot chocolate, picture window, roaring fire – perhaps chestnuts) in mind more than actual skiing.
To me a ‘snow trip’ involves:
A picture window, a cat, roaring
hot chocolate, chestnuts.
Not necessarily in that order….
Nearby Windsor Green is sporting a ‘get snowed on’ moment On The Green compliments of an enterprising connection between City Hall, a struggling Downtown, and a snowblower entrepreneur.
Sign me up!
But only because the ad for this ‘free’ event also profiled a plug for the downtown’s small restaurants, which include … picture windows, a roaring fire, and hot chocolate.