The snow stairs point up. My legs burning, acid in the muscles, my breath labored. I'm only 10 feet up and already I contemplate turning back.
The pilgrimage up to the peak.
Single file, step after step, grooves into the snow. I am perhaps the 100th person stepping in to these footprints and while my muscle burns and sweat drips from my forehead, I wonder what it would be like to be the first...
Christina and I managed to be the first ones on the chair lift yesterday morning. The runs were freshly groomed, and the ski hill was ours for two hours of so. The sun was shining, blue skies, picture perfect conditions really. Half powder, half slush, spring riding. It was on our 5th run or so that we decided to hike the peak. We rode the chairs up, and finally reached the single chair. A plank of wood as big as one's behind and a bar that connects it to the line. There is no back, there are no sides. Stay still and hold on tight. At home, this would be a lawsuit. But you focus on staying on and soon enough you are at the top.
At the end of the chair lift half the people were undoing their jackets and taking off layers preparing themselves for the journey up. The other half were strapping in to ride down. We were the unzipping ones.
Step, breathe, step, breathe, sweat, burn, burn, breathe.... for 20 minutes.
At the top you forget about how hard it was to climb. You start thinking about how beautiful the world looks from this high up. And wonder about if ants feel the same way when they finally climb to that top leaf. At the top was a shack and about 20 to 30 other people resting, taking pictures, eating snow, plotting their course down. The young people I expect to see up there, but the older generation always makes me smile. I only hope that I am hiking mountains when I get to be their age. And I also wonder how many great things they have seen in all those years separating me and them from this shared moment.
But anyway.
The snow candy on the top of the mountain had a spongy feel to it. And we crunched, and swallowed. After a few moments and thanks to the mountain Gods, we descended.
Once down we met up with Tim, Laura, and Ben, and rode for a few more runs on the STILL nicely groomed course. Around noon we were beat though, and managed to make it home for a bit of house cleaning and some shut eye before the other three arrived.
Ah yes, then a bit of communal living and sleeping, and here we are at Sunday morning. Sun shining in the windows and tea sipping to be had.
Bring a book and come join us.
The pilgrimage up to the peak.
Single file, step after step, grooves into the snow. I am perhaps the 100th person stepping in to these footprints and while my muscle burns and sweat drips from my forehead, I wonder what it would be like to be the first...
Christina and I managed to be the first ones on the chair lift yesterday morning. The runs were freshly groomed, and the ski hill was ours for two hours of so. The sun was shining, blue skies, picture perfect conditions really. Half powder, half slush, spring riding. It was on our 5th run or so that we decided to hike the peak. We rode the chairs up, and finally reached the single chair. A plank of wood as big as one's behind and a bar that connects it to the line. There is no back, there are no sides. Stay still and hold on tight. At home, this would be a lawsuit. But you focus on staying on and soon enough you are at the top.
At the end of the chair lift half the people were undoing their jackets and taking off layers preparing themselves for the journey up. The other half were strapping in to ride down. We were the unzipping ones.
Step, breathe, step, breathe, sweat, burn, burn, breathe.... for 20 minutes.
At the top you forget about how hard it was to climb. You start thinking about how beautiful the world looks from this high up. And wonder about if ants feel the same way when they finally climb to that top leaf. At the top was a shack and about 20 to 30 other people resting, taking pictures, eating snow, plotting their course down. The young people I expect to see up there, but the older generation always makes me smile. I only hope that I am hiking mountains when I get to be their age. And I also wonder how many great things they have seen in all those years separating me and them from this shared moment.
But anyway.
The snow candy on the top of the mountain had a spongy feel to it. And we crunched, and swallowed. After a few moments and thanks to the mountain Gods, we descended.
Once down we met up with Tim, Laura, and Ben, and rode for a few more runs on the STILL nicely groomed course. Around noon we were beat though, and managed to make it home for a bit of house cleaning and some shut eye before the other three arrived.
Ah yes, then a bit of communal living and sleeping, and here we are at Sunday morning. Sun shining in the windows and tea sipping to be had.
Bring a book and come join us.
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