(Never) Skiing Again

04/07/2023 | All Pictures and Article By Chubby Squirrel

 To preface, I’ve only gone skiing once before, when I was five years old. We went with some friends, because nobody in my family is of the winter sports type - we despise the cold - and all I can recall is that I was forced to attend a ski class, during which I fell once and couldn’t get up, and ended up being left behind. Not a pleasant experience, to be sure. But despite the fact that I vowed never to go skiing again after the tragic incident, there I was, careening down the slopes, more than a decade later, mouth gaping open but emitting no sound in utter terror as I “pizza’d” in vain, knowing that breaking that vow I made to myself all those years ago had been a (hopefully not fatal) mistake.

 It was the middle of January and everyone was bored. It was cold and windy, but there was no snow. It was gray and dreary outside; often a whole day would pass without any sunshine. We decided it was time for a trip to escape the ugliness that is January (in my opinion), and went with our cousins to a vacation home near Maryland’s Deep Creek Lake to ski at the nearby Wisp facility. A week before the trip, I went ice skating for the first time with some friends, and found it to be quite fun, even though I could hardly move at a pace faster than that of a person walking. Thinking that skiing would be just like skating - relaxing, self-guided, and relatively fun - I grudgingly acquiesced to their proposition and gathered up my winter gear.

Beautiful snowy landscape at Deep Creek Lake*

 The drive to the vacation house can only be described as magical. Not the hours spent on the highway, but the section from the highway exit to the house made me feel as if I were in a Disney movie. It was only a little after 7 PM, but since it was January, darkness had already settled over all. On the mountains, it was snowing, though not heavily, the lazily falling flakes creating an atmosphere of calmness and comforting isolation. We drove down a narrow, deserted road which carved through the surrounding forest, and it was like that for a good twenty minutes. No one said a word as we drove through, and it was so picturesque that it could have been a setting in any Disney movie.

 In the morning it was time for the somewhat dreaded yet inevitable: skiing! Given my distaste for cold weather, I brought two layers of jackets, heavy duty waterproof gloves, a ski mask, a warm beanie to put over the ski mask, and another ski mask to put over all of that. Everyone else laughed at my comical appearance, but I was able to stay nice and warm the whole time, which can not be said about them. After getting the gear, I struggled for a while to actually get my foot in the shoe, and once it finally got in, to get the shoe clipped onto the ski. We all started out at the bunny slope, which had an ungodly line for the ski lift. Instead of waiting for half an hour, I took off my skis and hiked up the side of the slope, which took just about as much time, and a lot more effort. Everyone was waiting for me at the top, anxious to get started but considerately unwilling to leave me, a first-time skier, behind.

Wisp Ski Resort at night

 Going down the bunny slope wasn’t too hard. I went slowly, cautiously; touching my skis together at their front tips and doing the opposite in the back so as to slow my descent. This was called the pizza method, and was highly praised and recommended to me by my companions. It worked well, and I had a very controlled trip down the slope, falling only once, on purpose, to prove to my paranoid mind that there wasn’t any real risk of injury involved in the activity.

 After going down and hiking back up the bunny slope a few times, I felt more than ready for something more exhilarating. The next easiest slope was the green slope directly adjacent to the bunny slope, which didn’t seem too imposing or difficult. This slope actually required a ride on the lift, as it was impossible (and unfeasible) to hike up to the top, which gave me a new experience about which to be anxious, as I’ve heard many stories of unpleasant ski lift experiences. Getting on the lift was stressful - it stopped for nobody, and as such swept your legs out from under you in a most jerky and violent fashion as it lifted you up into the air (at least, that’s how it appeared to me). The view of the surrounding mountains was gorgeous, although I was too preoccupied thinking about “what if I don’t get off in time?” and “what if I fall while getting off, and everyone else piles on top of me?” to savor in the landscape. Luckily, I was able to disembark from the lift without incident, although the person sitting next to me did fall, most likely because my ski was positioned on top of theirs and accidentally caused them to trip.

Me posing for a picture

 At the top of the mountain, we quickly located the green slope and started down. It was nothing like what I thought it was going to be like. Instead of a wide straightaway generously padded with artificially generated snow, the slope was more of a narrow, winding path, all crusted over with a thin layer of ice. I quickly found that the “pizza” method had absolutely no effect, and there was no way for me to stop or even slow my rapidly accelerating descent. All around me, people were going fast and passing by, and I had to put all my concentration into not hitting any of them. To make matters worse, the left side of the path was a clifflike-drop, so I stuck to the right side the whole time. The route culminated in a hill steeper than all the previous ones. I had already given up vainly trying to regain control, instead focusing on avoiding obstacles and flying off the side of the path. As I rapidly approached the downhill, I saw a literal horizontal line of children blocking my way. I knew there were two options I could take, and I decided to go with the one that did not involve crashing into the group. Instead, I swerved left, zooming past them and continuing my precarious descent. I was going so fast now that at every little bump, I would, for just one second, feel a sense of weightlessness as my skis launched slightly into the air.

 Finally reaching the bottom of the slope where the snow was thick, I “pizza’d” and was successful in bringing myself to a halt after a little sliding. Taking a minute to catch my breath and calm my rapidly beating heart, I realized with concern just how close I had been to possible injury. I also realized I was ecstatic. Going down the slope at a breakneck speed had forced me to concentrate on the moment, instead of the numerous tasks in my personal and professional life that had to be completed. Undeniably, cutting through the air as I zipped down the straightaway at the end felt exhilarating and liberating.

Another beautiful picture of local scenery*

 I decided to go down the same slope three more times, to get my money’s worth. Each time, I was extremely careful, stopping literally every five seconds by either falling on purpose or “pizza-ing” hard and leaning back as I did it. So, also falling on purpose. I lost control each time at the last hill, but I found that this caution actually made the activity tedious and boring. Instead of reveling in the exhilaration and fear that was so abundant during my first run, I was constantly worrying about the situation. It was nearly dark by the time I finished my fourth run, and I decided to go one last time. But this time, I promised myself that I would not be overly cautious.

 I was alone in the air as the lift carried me to the summit of the mountain. The lifts in front of and behind me were all vacant; it was getting colder, and many people had left already to enjoy a cup of hot chocolate at the main building. I did not have that problem, thanks to my tendency to dress excessively. In the dark, I could just barely make out the path in front of me, but couldn’t see any details until I came too close to do anything about them. As I started down the slope for the last time, the song “Danger Zone” started playing in my mind unwittingly. I hummed along, and it distracted me from thinking about the present dangers. I carelessly shot down the winding path, not bothering to worry about potential lumps or sticks, because I couldn’t even see them until I was too close. I surrendered myself to the inevitable, and welcomed the precariousness of my situation. I built up speed, and at the last hill, I savored the feeling of utter exhilaration, and while flying down the steep descent, I felt a moment of peace. I felt free. It was a good feeling.

 My cousins taught me that one should weave from one side of the path to the other consistently, in order to slow down or stop. That explained why everyone else was able to control themselves so well! Skiing was fun, somewhat, but besides the physical danger, the activity involves a lot of time to actually go to a ski resort and then money to rent or purchase the necessary equipment. I don’t think I’ll be skiing again anytime soon, and my advice for those who do plan on hitting the slopes is to never trust the “pizza method” too much!

* I only had two pictures of the ski resort, so I added a few photos of the landscape around the resort for more visual stimulus :)