Just returned, in a puddle of pleasant aches, from a skiing/boarding trip to the mountains with Chuck and Mack.
While i think it fair to consider myself a relatively proficient skier, having begun when i was in the second grade, but this trip was only my second attempt at working with only one slab of wood under my feet. I tried it once last year, at one of the puny local hills within edmonton, and thought that went pretty well for a first attempt. And i fell in love with it. Two boards would never be the same for me. And though this time i spent more time on my face, on my ass, or on my knees or in some rolling snowball combination of the three than actually standing up on the board, i still remain stubbornly un-dissuaded from abandoning skis forever in favour of the glorious board. For those brief moments that it was almost working, it was a thing of beauty. The tantalizingly close possibility of sweet heel to toe carving, trailing an arc of powder gleaming in the sunlight, is more than worth the present pain and humiliation, and the humbling admission of needing to go on easier slopes until i suck slightly less.

I hurt, but it was worthwhile. Abundantly so. While this trip, particularily our parking and attempted escape from sunshine, had elements that dangerously approached fiasco status, (We had to park about three km away from the lodge, on the road, and when we finally got back to our car at the end of the day, a tractor, used to ferry skiers to their vehicles, had jackknifed and slid into some poor schmuck's car, causing the mother of all line ups. we narrowly avoided that, and had to deal with some of the slowest drivers yet to crawl on the earth. AND we almost ran out of gas. Fun stuff) but it was SOOOO good to finally get out of the city. These grey, soulessly functional industrial parks and clone condo units really get to you after a while. To be on the road, to feel ones place in the presence of immense, stoic rocky massiveness, to see towering firs laden with snow, the black and white patches of mist shrouded juts of rock, that whole striking two-tone winter world...i don't know, somehow open space, trees, and really, really big rocks, all seen through the endless flow of large, fluffy flakes- it heightens something in me, raises an awarenesss, quiets other voices, releases other pressures...puts me in a different....mode. Fresh air in my lungs, a lot of snow down my pants, a bit of physical excercise and a number of blows to the head- all a recipe for improved mood, if you ask me. Nevertheless, it WAS good, and will be repeated soon...oh yes, it shall..... Mucho props (Don't get chopped up, though...) to Mack for driving and boundless generosity, Chuck for knowing what's going on, Chuck's bro Dave for head injury and company ( and taking me on a tree-dodging last run that definitely surpassed fiasco) and Jeff for graciously obtaining gear.