JC and I spent our entire hike today talking about skiing (this is not unusual). Around this time time of year we start to re-examine our set-ups, figure out if we need any new gear or worse: just want new gear. Thus far, we have concluded that all either of us really needs is some more Darn Tough socks.
If you are not familiar with Darn Tough socks, you may want to take a few moment to consider how awesome it would be to buy socks that have a lifetime guarantee. I shit you not. I got a stripey pair in my Christmas stocking last year and they became my Magic Socks because my skiing skills seemed to dramatically and inexplicably improve when I wore them. (Johnny likes them because they are made in Vermont, which automatically makes them superior in his mind. Yes, he is from Vermont).
Anywho, after glumly accepting the fact that we can't rationalize purchasing new ski gear because who buys ski gear just because you want it, right?, we move onto our skiing goals for Winter 2016. We do this every winter. We make the kids do it. We check in with each other over the winter to make sure everyone is still on track with their vision. And on the last day of the ski season, we high five each other at the end of the day and start to sow the seeds for the next Winter's goals.
Which brings me to my point. I had a breakthrough on my skis the last 2 days I skied last winter. It was late May (I know) and we were ski touring on the ski area, enjoying the 81 inches that piled up in April and May (I know). Here was to cool part: my breakthrough didn't happen because the conditions were incredible and I skied great, it happened because the conditions were super duper sucky and I skied it like it was No Big Whoop. (That was actually my goal 2 winters ago: to have the attitude that everything was No Big Whoop. I was mildly successful).
Most of you know that I switched from snowboarding to skiing when I moved back here 6 winters ago. You have also probably all heard me whine and moan and carry on about how hard it has been to learn how to ski as an adult. I had a wee complex about this for a while, as it kind of seemed to me that my learning curve was glacially slow. And truthfully, it has been. The first 2 winters I worked 5 days a week and we all know that 2 days a week skiing is not going to get you very far in one season, or really 2 for that matter. Did I mention that our ski area is super steep? There's that too.
So there I am on the ski area trying to figure out alpine skiing. It's steep. It's cold. It's scary. People see me. I am intimidated. So I pussed out a lot. And here I am off the ski area trying to figure out ski touring - with a completely different set of gear: different boots, different skis, different bindings. It's hard work, the skinning, the kick turns, the maneuvering. Then when I have dragged myself to the top of something cold and steep, I have to try to ski down, emphasize the word try.
So last winter I decided: this is dumb. I need to learn how to ski, really ski, before I continue with the silly touring business. I spent the whole winter skiing almost exclusively on the ski area. And I got better. And when I had my little breakthrough, hacking down Bushwacker when I should be lounging in the sun in a biking because it is late May, JC turned to me and said, "That was your most successful run yet." Why because it truly was No Big Whoop. Shitty conditions but I found a way to navigate that didn't wonk me out. When we reached a place where the snow improved, I moved right into easier turns and relaxed for the rest of the way down.
And the next time we went up, this:
So there you have it. This winter, my skiing goal is ski touring, backcountry skiing, call it what you want. Skin up and ski down. Skin up and ski down. No Big Whoop.
And I am going to bore you with the details because why not?
There is snow in town today, Johnny is going up high tomorrow to do some test runs and see how skiable it is, and perhaps Sunday will be my first true entry.
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