In With a Bang, Out With a....
Lamenting the end of yet another ski season
By Clark Williams
The ski season always seems to open with a bang and close with a sigh. I suppose one of the reasons the season starts so dramatically, at least for those of us addicted to the life, is the fact that we have anticipated it for so long. From April till November we are, not so patiently, waiting. We look for any little sign that nirvana is about to reappear. Such as the appearance of school buses on the road, the grass has finally stopped growing and (my favorite) all the summer loving whinies are whining about how cold it has gotten. By the time the leaves have started turning we are all in a frenzied state. We have done all the necessary chores around the house to get it ready for a season of neglect. Some of us have even done some sort of exercise to get our, one year older, bodies ready to endure the search for the perfect run, or the most runs, or the most days out. The skis have been tuned, the season’s agenda has been studied established studied again and reestablished. Just about any activity even remotely related to skiing is engaged in as an effort to quell our ever growing need to ski. At this time of the year true skiers are in such a state of anxiety that when the first snow storm actually hits a small event occurs in their brain that transports them to another plain of being, a cold white world built for the all consuming experience of skiing. There is nothing like that first real storm of the season. Everything changes, whether you’re a skier or not you just can’t ignore winter. The cool air is in your lungs, you can feel it all around you, on your face and your hands; it even smells different. When it snows everything looks completely different. Everything is covered with the same white blanket, something’s disappearing all together, and others just change their shape to a smoother, more comfortable look. Everything is joined by the same white cover. Even the sound is different, quite, gentle, with a closeness you can feel.
Spring just isn’t the same. Not for the ski bum. I’m not forgetting how great spring skiing can be, but it too is a sign that the end is near. Spring doesn’t mark “a new beginning” It marks the rapid decline of the season. The end of a lifestyle for the next 7 to 8 months, as the snow starts to recede, the end grows closer. This is first witnessed in the woods, where the natural snow is the first to succumb to the inevitable. Riding on the chairlift can become a sad, desperate time. Measuring in your mind just how much the snow has receded since your last trip up and calculating how many more trips you might get. The man-made snow will persevere the longest but eventually the financial reality dictates and the lifts stop turning. Now what? If you are desperate enough and fit enough you can hike up and try to find enough snow for one last run. That run may require walking from one patch of snow to another, snow which has frozen and thawed enough times to have the consistency of frozen volcanic ash. If you fall it’s like hitting a cheese grater. Of course you could fall and end up in the dirt just as easily. The effort and the risk are not much of an issue when it comes to extending your season one more day, but it’s a day to be savored. One hike up = one run down, and for me that one run is it, so I do my best to savor it. I think this has helped me get a better understanding of the way it was back in the day. It’s easy for me to get tied up in the “how many runs can you get in” mentality, the “more runs = more fun” approach so the process of hiking up for that one run down seems to make it easier to accept the inevitable.
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 Clark
Williams has spent eleven seasons as a part time instructor
at an eastern mountain. His fervent wish is to pursue
instructing full time after retirement. |
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