I am not a skier. Never have been. I went to school in Boston to be closer to the mountains of NH, but never had the time or money to ski. I moved to FL in 1990. I like it warm and I like to surf year round without a 6mm suit. Well, nearly 24 years later, my wife decided she wants to try to ski. Now. The plane tickets are purchased, the room is booked. Happy Valentine's Day! Off we went Friday evening, loaded with bargain priced snow gear (Seems it's hard to move snow pants and ski jackets in SW FL when it is 80 degrees and sunny.), just after Thursday's Nor'easter that dumped about 16" in the White Mountains.
My sister and brother-in-law, who vacation in warmer weather in NH (summited Mt. Washington with them a few Junes ago), picked us up at Logan Airport in Boston and we made our way to The Lodge at Bretton Woods in Bartlett, NH, a two story motel across the street from the historic Mount Washington Hotel, and part of the Mount Washington Resort. I thought I'd never want to be here in the winter, but here I was, and it was freezing. There would be no worries about lack of snow or rain on the mountain (though I heard someone say that 2 weeks earlier you could have golfed on the course!). More snow would be coming this weekend. It was 1 am Saturday and we had lessons on the mountain in several hours. Off to bed in a very warm room.
This is the view from The Lodge. You look across 302, across the golf course, to the hotel, up the Cog Railway, to Mt. Washington. And it was cold. High in the 20s. The gear was keeping us warm, though. Base layers, wool socks to the knees, snow pants, ski jackets, buffs, gloves, hoods, boots. We took the shuttle over to the golf course as the Nordic skiers have a lodge there. Many miles of cross country ski trails in this area. We said goodbye to my sister and took the shuttle up the street to Bretton Woods and the Alpine Ski Center. It was busy. President's Day on Monday and Massachusetts kids are out of school this week. We rented the gear (super efficient and pleasant resort staff despite the volume) and waited for our lessons. My wife would be skiing and I wanted to learn to snowboard. Here is the view at the Learning Quad.
Ski lessons went well for my wife. Halfway through she called to me from the lift. Seems her instructor felt she was ready to go up the mountain. I stayed with my instructor and a 12 year old girl; a fellow snowboard newb. We were taken to the Maiden Hill with the 4-8 year olds after our lesson. Seems I wasn't ready to go up the mountain. "That's it?" I asked after several low velocity turns and a few falls. "That's it," Dustin from California said as he presented a gloveless hand as a good luck gesture. I slid down the Maiden Hill a couple times, desperately trying to avoid much of Boston's promising youth, but taking out cones and padded obstacles in the process. I was ready to give up, but I heard my wife cheerfully call from the lift line. She'd already gone down a green trail twice and wanted me to go back up with her. I wasn't sure I could get on the lift chair, never mind down the mountain. I skated over, fearful of dropping into the pit and forcing the operator to stop the lift, in front of about 50 people, some way more proficient than me at five and six years old. The chair came around and as the board left the platform I felt it twist the knee of my front foot, still strapped to the snowboard. I hoped this wasn't a foreshadowing event.
Shoot! The peacefulness of the lift ride above folks shushing down white powder slopes was shattered by the realization that I had never gotten OFF a ski lift before. The operators began yelling, "Stand up NOW!" I stood up, knees and hips flexed, arms spread wide, and safey glided to the bottom of the drop zone. Before I knew it, my wife was snow plowing her way down the mountain, but I hadn't strapped in yet. I'd have to do it alone.
It seemed like there were a lot of people. And it looked much steeper than the Maiden Hill. Yeesh. After confidently strapping the rear foot in (I'm a regular foot), I sat awhile. A good while. I watched a handful of what seemed like toddlers charge down the hill, then I stood up with the board across the slope, heel edge set in the snow. And I watched a good while longer. I noticed the woman at the top of the lift was watching me. Had to go for it now. I looked up at the chute where a couple of steeper trails fed in. Nobody coming. I went.
I turned the nose downhill and started sliding. I was headed off the trail to the left. I leaned toe side and the edge caught, turning me back to the right and to the middle of the trail. It seemed like everything fell into place then. I got across the trail and leaned heel side. The weight shifts that became falls on the smaller hill were turning into long carves on the steeper slope. I wanted more speed. I leaned down the hill. Speed came immediately as did loss of control. The nose started drifting right and my rear foot was swinging around to the left behind me. I needed to get on a heel side turn, but as soon as I made the move, the downhill edge caught. Down on the butt of my ski pants, and I don't know how many times I rolled, with the board helicoptering, before I stopped. I looked around and there was a couple of twenty-somethings sitting in the snow at the side of the trail trying not to look at me. I smiled wide and said, "Isn't this a blast!" I was back to being a kid on the sledding hill, trying to stand on the family toboggan, and cartwheeling out of control. They said they were just learning, too, and stood back up and slid toward the bottom. As with every other athletic endeavor I've undertaken, I did the same. I got back up and made my way down to the lift.
My sister and brother-in-law, who vacation in warmer weather in NH (summited Mt. Washington with them a few Junes ago), picked us up at Logan Airport in Boston and we made our way to The Lodge at Bretton Woods in Bartlett, NH, a two story motel across the street from the historic Mount Washington Hotel, and part of the Mount Washington Resort. I thought I'd never want to be here in the winter, but here I was, and it was freezing. There would be no worries about lack of snow or rain on the mountain (though I heard someone say that 2 weeks earlier you could have golfed on the course!). More snow would be coming this weekend. It was 1 am Saturday and we had lessons on the mountain in several hours. Off to bed in a very warm room.
This is the view from The Lodge. You look across 302, across the golf course, to the hotel, up the Cog Railway, to Mt. Washington. And it was cold. High in the 20s. The gear was keeping us warm, though. Base layers, wool socks to the knees, snow pants, ski jackets, buffs, gloves, hoods, boots. We took the shuttle over to the golf course as the Nordic skiers have a lodge there. Many miles of cross country ski trails in this area. We said goodbye to my sister and took the shuttle up the street to Bretton Woods and the Alpine Ski Center. It was busy. President's Day on Monday and Massachusetts kids are out of school this week. We rented the gear (super efficient and pleasant resort staff despite the volume) and waited for our lessons. My wife would be skiing and I wanted to learn to snowboard. Here is the view at the Learning Quad.
Ski lessons went well for my wife. Halfway through she called to me from the lift. Seems her instructor felt she was ready to go up the mountain. I stayed with my instructor and a 12 year old girl; a fellow snowboard newb. We were taken to the Maiden Hill with the 4-8 year olds after our lesson. Seems I wasn't ready to go up the mountain. "That's it?" I asked after several low velocity turns and a few falls. "That's it," Dustin from California said as he presented a gloveless hand as a good luck gesture. I slid down the Maiden Hill a couple times, desperately trying to avoid much of Boston's promising youth, but taking out cones and padded obstacles in the process. I was ready to give up, but I heard my wife cheerfully call from the lift line. She'd already gone down a green trail twice and wanted me to go back up with her. I wasn't sure I could get on the lift chair, never mind down the mountain. I skated over, fearful of dropping into the pit and forcing the operator to stop the lift, in front of about 50 people, some way more proficient than me at five and six years old. The chair came around and as the board left the platform I felt it twist the knee of my front foot, still strapped to the snowboard. I hoped this wasn't a foreshadowing event.
Shoot! The peacefulness of the lift ride above folks shushing down white powder slopes was shattered by the realization that I had never gotten OFF a ski lift before. The operators began yelling, "Stand up NOW!" I stood up, knees and hips flexed, arms spread wide, and safey glided to the bottom of the drop zone. Before I knew it, my wife was snow plowing her way down the mountain, but I hadn't strapped in yet. I'd have to do it alone.
It seemed like there were a lot of people. And it looked much steeper than the Maiden Hill. Yeesh. After confidently strapping the rear foot in (I'm a regular foot), I sat awhile. A good while. I watched a handful of what seemed like toddlers charge down the hill, then I stood up with the board across the slope, heel edge set in the snow. And I watched a good while longer. I noticed the woman at the top of the lift was watching me. Had to go for it now. I looked up at the chute where a couple of steeper trails fed in. Nobody coming. I went.
I turned the nose downhill and started sliding. I was headed off the trail to the left. I leaned toe side and the edge caught, turning me back to the right and to the middle of the trail. It seemed like everything fell into place then. I got across the trail and leaned heel side. The weight shifts that became falls on the smaller hill were turning into long carves on the steeper slope. I wanted more speed. I leaned down the hill. Speed came immediately as did loss of control. The nose started drifting right and my rear foot was swinging around to the left behind me. I needed to get on a heel side turn, but as soon as I made the move, the downhill edge caught. Down on the butt of my ski pants, and I don't know how many times I rolled, with the board helicoptering, before I stopped. I looked around and there was a couple of twenty-somethings sitting in the snow at the side of the trail trying not to look at me. I smiled wide and said, "Isn't this a blast!" I was back to being a kid on the sledding hill, trying to stand on the family toboggan, and cartwheeling out of control. They said they were just learning, too, and stood back up and slid toward the bottom. As with every other athletic endeavor I've undertaken, I did the same. I got back up and made my way down to the lift.
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