I still don't have any
skiing pictures of me to post. The camera can't capture the high speed and agility. It registers only as a lean, athletic blur of unsurpassed skill and bravery.
Maybe my
ski story didn't impress you. Maybe my used skis look like they belong to a seven-year-old boy. But let me give you a glimpse of the kind of person I live with. We hit the slopes a few Fridays ago for a bit of night skiing and that just about wiped me out for the rest of the weekend. But for Chris, it was only the first of three weekend ski trips.
Say what now? On Sunday morning, he snuck out to do a bit of backcountry snowshoeing and snowboarding with our friend Damien in Western Mass. And then after that, he met up with some other friends at a nearby ski resort for more. Meanwhile, back on the home front, I got myself to the gym but then promptly returned home and didn't leave for the rest of the day. As it should be, as it should be.
The
Thunderbolt Ski Trail was carved into the east side of
Mount Greylock in 1934 by the strapping young men of the
Civilian Conservation Corps. Thanks FDR. They also put up the Massachusetts Veterans War Memorial Tower, shown above, which is perfect because Damien happens to be a veteran from Massachusetts. So that's nice. All throughout the 1930s and 40s, crazy dudes loved skiing down this mountain. Then people started wanting ski lifts and other such conveniences and forgot about Thunderbolt. But in the late nineties, a new generation of crazy dudes and ladies rediscovered the trail and fixed 'er up. So that by the time we got to 2011, while I'm inside reading, my dude and his friends climb this thing and then slide back down it.
Sounds fun. No, really, it does sound like it could be fun for
someone. The pictures certainly look pretty. And cold and snowy. Maybe a bit exhausting. I'm down for the hiking in summer. And I like a good snowshoe excursion on flatter ground. A few runs down the novice ski hill is okay with me too. But all together like this, on "advanced terrain with expert conditions", no thanks. But then again, I should be used to this, coming from a guy who also biked 170+ miles back to his hometown and still runs outside even when it's 2 degrees and snowing. I'd almost feel bad about myself, but then I quickly remember how nice it is to be warm and comfortable. Sucka.
What's your pleasure? Hitting the ski slopes or ski lodge? A three-day bike trip or a three-day beach party? Cold and miserable or warm and happy?
(Photos by our friend Damien.)