Heaven and Hell

HEAVEN. Recently, a few folks have asked this question: "What exactly does it mean when you say you go up skiing in the back woods or back yard or back whatever that thing is that you say you do? And you don't bring little Indigo, do you?" For some folks, the concept of back country skiing is old hat, while for others it's mysterious and kooky, let alone with a four year old in the cold, intense mountains of Alaska! So here is a brief photo tutorial from last weekend to enlighten some of you, to inspire some of you, and finally, to confirm the gut reaction in some of you that says, "Not my idea of fun, thank you!" (We promise to still be your friend if you confess to this last category!)

Step one: Drive to snowy mountainous area, get out of van, put on warm layers, put on skis with climbing skins, put on kid, and begin climbing UP.

Note: Choose terrain that is easily accessible, avalanche safe, and lovely.

Step two: Set down kid (especially easy if kid is asleep), play rock-paper-scissors to see who gets to play first, and either climb farther up (winner) or sit with sleeping kid and drink hot tea from thermos (loser, but not too shabby - the view is usually stellar and the kid is pretty cute).

Not too shabby.

Step three A: Take off skins, and ski down in glorious fresh powder snow without another soul or man-made object in sight...

Swoosh.

Step three B: Continue drinking hot tea while building snow man and playing hide and seek with now-awake kid.

BYO-Carrot.

Hiding.

Step four: Switch.

Smiling.

Step five: Pack up hot tea, pack up kid, say good bye to snow man, and ski all the way back down to van. Note: Don't fall - high stakes cargo!

I spy Ice Cream Newton.

Step six: Take off kid, take off skis, take off warm layers, get in van, drive away from snowy mountainous area, and stop for pizza and beer on way home. A slice of heaven! (For Team Leslie, anyway!)


HELL. "Now here's a little story I gots to tell..." So some of you may remember the local ski swap where J aggressively scored us some new ski gear, including skate-ski paraphernalia. Well over the holidays I decided to give it a go and strapped on the skinny skis, the funky pole grasps, and J's iPod, to peruse some groomed trails near our town. Now I'm not usually an iPodder, and J's selection was not my cup of tea, but I finally settled on some classic Beastie Boys, hoping to inspire my uphill charge. I thought I put the ear pieces in properly and I began my awkward push and coast rhythm, much like ice or roller skating, which worked for awhile. I glided over moose tracks and eagle skat, starting to feel pretty good about this new sport. Then, all of a sudden, an overwhelming number of stressful sensory elements presented themselves:

• In a casual brush of my winter hat, I managed to push the ear pieces deeper into my ears, amplifying the volume of the Beasties to unreasonable proportions. "HEY Ladies!!!"
• This precipitated a flailing of my arms and legs, resulting in my careening off the groomer into the deeper snow on the side of the trail. "Ain't it FUNKY now!"
• Staggering to a stop, I madly pulled off my gloves and tried to pull the buds from my ears. "You gotta FIGHT..."
• In my haste, I fell over, my bare hands crashed through the freezing sharp snow, and my full weight tipped into the bushes. "Listen all y'all, it's a SABOTAGE!"
  

Alas I landed, ass over tit, mouth full of snow, hair full of twigs, hands screaming, Beasties blaring, in a skier's living hell. (I am currently accepting  iTunes gift cards to put toward a complete collection of Antonio Vivaldi in the hopes of regaining my skate-ski legs and my sanity.)