Snowman's Land
Another harrowing experience on the slopes....
unrelated, thank goodness to recent news...
Somewhere buried in the story is a lesson, I'm sure of it...
…out there in Snowman's land...
and the story begins....
It's another crisp cool day as a steel blue sky blankets the New Hampshire’s White Mountains. The evergreens stand tall, stubbornly clinging to their needles absorbing the sunlight and illuminating themselves to a vibrant glowing green, almost neon, even... (hold that thought). The white powdery snow is everywhere; the granite outcrops jut out from the mountainside like miniature 'old men of the mountains'...Mount Washington stands off in the distance, steadfastly claiming its stake to the region, overlooking and dwarfing the surrounding peaks of the Presidential Range. The sun tries hopelessly to warm the air but can only muster a few degrees over the freezing point.
This..... IS …."Snowman's Land"
This... is Attitash / Bear Peak in the White Mountains, in Bartlett, NH; more commonly known simply as Attitash, or perhaps it should be called At-a-Smash......
..... and away we go....
Screaming around a bend, our boy Tomba is enjoying a thrilling journey down a double black-diamond run that, oddly enough, is called Ptarmigan...yup, Tom again....and lookin' like a locomotive, here he comes again....He straightens his body out to face the sudden steep slope, sports a wily smile, takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, turns to face the challenge, and gets in a tuck.
"attention passengers, the captain has turned on
the fasten your seatbelt sign".
He maintains his control despite the turbulence below his boots. Even at this good clip, he's cruising and looking good, baby!
skier's code, Rule # 1 Always stay in control and be able to stop or avoid other people or objects.
He's really been enjoying the day, staying away from the crowds, staying on the black diamond slopes, even skiing the double black diamonds, where only the numbnuts numbskulls experts roam and that's just fine with him, he enjoys the solitude that allows him to clear his head and think. He hates the crowds and those rookies up for the weekend from the suburbs; the once-a-year ski trippers...They've never heard of the skiers code, they're obnoxious, skiing with their ipods on and talking on their cell phones, they cut in line at the chairlift, oblivious to any order, they have the 'look at me' outfits...and they think they own the mountain. Locals here call them MAssholes, as most are from the Boston, MA suburbs.
No, there aren't any of those dingbats out here on the double black diamonds, you won't find them here; this space is reserved for frequent flyers on the airborne express. Yes, Tomba will ski here all day....because he enjoys this solitude and beauty of these mountains.
Meanwhile, further down slope, about half way through the endless steep drop, he checks his radar and sees an unexpected line of people...."something crosseth my path, toto"
What are they thinking? He imagines the conversation going something like....
"My, my, my... hey kids, look how steep that slope is...look how fast that man is going, honey..look how he's blazing downhill swooshing left and right, he even crosses ice patches skidding along...look at him ... he must be a racer, look at 'em go....wow, that's cool, let's cross here, shall we?"...and they continue their Saturday walk in the park and shuffle across the run using a trail that is aptly named " middle highway"...no kidding..."middle highway "...I kid you not...
Suddenly, a Jethro Tull song enters his mind.
..."in the shuffling madness ...of the locomotive breath... runs the all time loser ...headlong to his death...he feels his piston's scraping... steam breaking on his brow...old charlie stole the handle, and the train, it won't stop going...no way to slow down...no way to slow down...he sees the children jump off -- stations one by one...."
Oh yeah, he's gaining steam and coming on fast; getting closer to these clueless onlookers and he’s running out of runway in a hurry...there's not much wiggle room here...it's a gutter ball into the tree line on both sides or a strike down the center of the alley. He's thinking, "what in tarnation are they doin' here? We have spectators in the middle of a black diamond run? ...in the middle of a DOUBLE black diamond run? Are you kidding me? Do these people watch NASCAR while standing on the track too?
I ask you…How am I supposed to stick to the skier's code and avoid hitting people in front of me when
a) they aren't supposed to be there; and, b) they make sudden unexpected kamikaze moves?
skier’s code, rule # 2: People ahead of you have the right of way. It is your responsibility to avoid them.
skier's code, rule # 3: You must not stop where you obstruct a trail or are not visible from above.
skier’s code, rule # 4 Whenever starting downhill or merging into a trail, look uphill and yield to others.
Just for the record, he IS skiing in control, to be sure... even at these speeds he can safely time this perfectly... as long as they keep moving steadily, he'll slip right between the front of the pack, behind mama blind bear and the first of her blind mice following her..."Nice lady, enjoy the view, just keep moving, keep that vibrant glowing green, almost neon ski jacket (where have we seen that before?) shuffling along like you're on your treadmill....ok, here I come, slipping through....no false moves now...don't try anything cute, lady...and by all means lady, don't stop..."
Well now, up here in the mountains, he's seen his share of "deer in the headlights", but it's usually only one pair....not a dozen eyes staring at him like they've just seen the Messiah..."geez Louise....look at them...lined up like ducks in a shooting gallery...Jeepers creepers....why I oughtta take them all out..."
Heavens to Betsy, W-T-F is she doing? She's stopping !!! What the F#$%k is she stopping for? She's suicidal....They're all stopping!! Dang nammit, cut harder left and get in front of her....but there's not enough room or time to turn, the ski's just can't cut it that short, there's too much ice and they're flapping up and down like a hummingbird's wings...he's trying to alter course, skidding across ice; even so, he's well enough in control not to wipe out right in front of them and knock the whole set of duckpins out... after all, at these speeds, he doesn't want to be trying any sow cows out here.
"excuse me lady, but wouldn't you be better off watching this from the sidelines?"
By now, he's beginning to accept that he's probably not going to make the turn in time. He's committed to this direction and past the point of no return....Still, he keeps trying to avoid them......."cut as hard as you can Tommy my boy, dig, dig, dig arrrrrrrghhh "; his thighs burn and feel like they'll burst...G'dammit cut harder or you'll mow her down......"This is the Captain speaking...prepare for impact........INCOMING !!!!!!
...swoosh!
....... bam!
Somewhere from the recesses of his brain, he hears an ESPN announcer saying "lady, you just got .....JACKED UP!! " ?
........... he's airborne ! "ladies and gentlemen, you are free to roam the cabin"
he sails downstream and finally lands...but....
“Where's the kaboom?”...
There was supposed to be
an earth-shattering KaBoom! “
What the heck just happened here?...Where’d she go? She just vanished !
As it turns out, lady luck (and even a sprinkle of skill) was with him...He had crossed diagonally over the front of her skis, grazing her boots as he plowed through, twisting his body like he's trying to squeeze into a elevator before the doors close...although both skier and gawker landed on their tails, he managed to avoid body blocking her into tomorrow by taking her out low at the ankles. It was the best he could do, subconsciously and instinctively, he skirted past her like he was in a slalom race curling around a gate. There was snow flying everywhere, and she suddenly disappeared from his view. His ski's first scraping hers, then cutting loose; unmanned ski's deciding for themselves which way to go...Where’d she go? The impact spun him around and he landed face down, arms wide and legs spread eagle,... as he spins in circles down the mountain, he's skidding on his belly ...looking like a sky diver as he goes flying downhill...he knows his skis are long gone, probably up at the scene of the accident. Time stood still.
There seemed to be no passage of time from moment of impact to when he came to a stop nor was any lapse of time between when he stood back up and when he arrived at the crossing back up the hill to see if she was ok. He was shaken, thought he hurt her real bad...the sound of his skis smashing into her boots still haunting him...Is she conscious? His heart is pounding…
Running up the hill, he's mumbling to himself, muffling his words. Why didn't I shout something...like 'make woom'? 'clear wout'? 'get outta the fweakin' way! what's he saying, he can't speak, he's so frightened he can't even think coherently...she'd be lucky if she got up with only ONE leg broken after that collision....all she had to do is keep movin'..."oh man, I gotta call ski patrol, there'll be rescue vans, the hospital, news cameras ......" but it wasn't my fault, he cries to himself...!!!"
He arrives after what seemed like a sprint on his tippy toes of his ski boots racing uphill and immediately asks if she's ok, and to his bewilderment, she announces, she's fine. "Are you sure?" He fails to feel relieved. Yes, she declares, "I'm ok, it's my fault I stopped"....again he asks..." but are you sure your ok?" He can't believe it. The sound his skis made hitting her boots sure sounded ominous... He thinks she must be delirious, asks again, "really i'm fine".....He let her know that he did everything he could to avoid her, and he did, but again she says it's her fault, but somehow that doesn't make him feel any better....but he apologizes sincerely once again, and walks on back down to gather his skis and realizes they are quite a ways down...and didn't realize his poles took off without him as well. Thoughts swirl around his head..."how is it possible?....I know I was heading right for her, how could I have missed bodyslamming her...what angel, by the grace of God, came down and saved this woman?...it's as if I skied through her... and what about me, I don't feel a thing" He's truly puzzled.
....and not one of them even asked if I was hurt in any way, not once...
He clips on his skis and straps on his poles, then looks back up only to see a tidal wave of snow coming right at him ! OMG! Lightning doesn't strike twice, does it?
"heavens to murgatroyd, exit stage left!"....
He thinks to move but judges it for a moment and predicts he's safe...he waits for what seemed like eternity....the wave still keeps coming, he can't see through it, snow is flying everywhere. "It's a twister, auntie em, it's a twister!" He looks uphill, above all the mass of powder, and sees the same single file line still up there, like they are playing red rover, red rover, send another one over...only it has grown to about a dozen onlookers now...meanwhile, the wave of oncoming snow breaks and simmers down, stops 2 feet in front of him, and as it clears and settles, he realizes it's a snowboarder....who promptly announces 'sorry dude, I ran into a crowd up there and lost it..." Tomba takes a breath and says, "I know what you mean, man, I know what you mean"....and offers a hand to help him up.
He skis the rest of the way down in shock and disbelief...he boards the chairlift and tries to sort out the details...Still in shock as he glides up the mountain on the chairlift. His travels cross the "middle highway" trail below. He chuckles as he reads a sign on the trail below that crosses the very same ptarmigan run......."look uphill before crossing" "look uphill before crossing ? "....I'm going back down there and add "and if you see someone coming down, for crying out loud, DO NOT CROSS! "
He's dazed, still a little foggy, but can still read signs on the chairlift support poles as his chair passes them...There is a picture of a skier leaning way over rounding a gate on a slalom race, the gate lying almost flat after being hit by his hips or elbows with quote beneath it....
" some gates just bend, others kneel down in fear"
And then it happened...with the blinding light of an epiphany, it all became crystal clear...."some gates just bend, others kneel down in fear "... so that’s where she disappeared to, that’s why there was no kaboom….Thank you ma'am, you probably saved both our lives....I pray and hope you are well...
And so, there you have it…All's well that ends well...keep to the code…boys and girls, keep to the code…
At the end of the day, he heads to the lodge, to pop a cold one, and sit back and enjoy the warmth of the late afternoon spring sunshine, maybe listen to the live band. He drops himself down on an Adirondack chair… An Aerosmith tribute band is playing " train kept a 'rollin ".....how fitting….
...he sips his corona and toasts " here's to a great winter! " and floats off into a daydream…
…Stay tuned....
the ski's are off and winter is behind us; spring is in the air, and I think I hear steel drums...
“Aye, Calypso, I drink to your spirit, the places you’ve been to, the things you have shown us, the stories you tell’ Aye, Calypso I’ll sing to your spirit, the men who have served you so long and so well !
Yodelayehee, yodlelayeheewhoo
--Tomba, aka Tom the Bomb…
unrelated, thank goodness to recent news...
Somewhere buried in the story is a lesson, I'm sure of it...
…out there in Snowman's land...
and the story begins....
It's another crisp cool day as a steel blue sky blankets the New Hampshire’s White Mountains. The evergreens stand tall, stubbornly clinging to their needles absorbing the sunlight and illuminating themselves to a vibrant glowing green, almost neon, even... (hold that thought). The white powdery snow is everywhere; the granite outcrops jut out from the mountainside like miniature 'old men of the mountains'...Mount Washington stands off in the distance, steadfastly claiming its stake to the region, overlooking and dwarfing the surrounding peaks of the Presidential Range. The sun tries hopelessly to warm the air but can only muster a few degrees over the freezing point.
This..... IS …."Snowman's Land"
This... is Attitash / Bear Peak in the White Mountains, in Bartlett, NH; more commonly known simply as Attitash, or perhaps it should be called At-a-Smash......
..... and away we go....
Screaming around a bend, our boy Tomba is enjoying a thrilling journey down a double black-diamond run that, oddly enough, is called Ptarmigan...yup, Tom again....and lookin' like a locomotive, here he comes again....He straightens his body out to face the sudden steep slope, sports a wily smile, takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, turns to face the challenge, and gets in a tuck.
"attention passengers, the captain has turned on
the fasten your seatbelt sign".
He maintains his control despite the turbulence below his boots. Even at this good clip, he's cruising and looking good, baby!
skier's code, Rule # 1 Always stay in control and be able to stop or avoid other people or objects.
He's really been enjoying the day, staying away from the crowds, staying on the black diamond slopes, even skiing the double black diamonds, where only the numbnuts numbskulls experts roam and that's just fine with him, he enjoys the solitude that allows him to clear his head and think. He hates the crowds and those rookies up for the weekend from the suburbs; the once-a-year ski trippers...They've never heard of the skiers code, they're obnoxious, skiing with their ipods on and talking on their cell phones, they cut in line at the chairlift, oblivious to any order, they have the 'look at me' outfits...and they think they own the mountain. Locals here call them MAssholes, as most are from the Boston, MA suburbs.
No, there aren't any of those dingbats out here on the double black diamonds, you won't find them here; this space is reserved for frequent flyers on the airborne express. Yes, Tomba will ski here all day....because he enjoys this solitude and beauty of these mountains.
Meanwhile, further down slope, about half way through the endless steep drop, he checks his radar and sees an unexpected line of people...."something crosseth my path, toto"
What are they thinking? He imagines the conversation going something like....
"My, my, my... hey kids, look how steep that slope is...look how fast that man is going, honey..look how he's blazing downhill swooshing left and right, he even crosses ice patches skidding along...look at him ... he must be a racer, look at 'em go....wow, that's cool, let's cross here, shall we?"...and they continue their Saturday walk in the park and shuffle across the run using a trail that is aptly named " middle highway"...no kidding..."middle highway "...I kid you not...
Suddenly, a Jethro Tull song enters his mind.
..."in the shuffling madness ...of the locomotive breath... runs the all time loser ...headlong to his death...he feels his piston's scraping... steam breaking on his brow...old charlie stole the handle, and the train, it won't stop going...no way to slow down...no way to slow down...he sees the children jump off -- stations one by one...."
Oh yeah, he's gaining steam and coming on fast; getting closer to these clueless onlookers and he’s running out of runway in a hurry...there's not much wiggle room here...it's a gutter ball into the tree line on both sides or a strike down the center of the alley. He's thinking, "what in tarnation are they doin' here? We have spectators in the middle of a black diamond run? ...in the middle of a DOUBLE black diamond run? Are you kidding me? Do these people watch NASCAR while standing on the track too?
I ask you…How am I supposed to stick to the skier's code and avoid hitting people in front of me when
a) they aren't supposed to be there; and, b) they make sudden unexpected kamikaze moves?
skier’s code, rule # 2: People ahead of you have the right of way. It is your responsibility to avoid them.
skier's code, rule # 3: You must not stop where you obstruct a trail or are not visible from above.
skier’s code, rule # 4 Whenever starting downhill or merging into a trail, look uphill and yield to others.
Just for the record, he IS skiing in control, to be sure... even at these speeds he can safely time this perfectly... as long as they keep moving steadily, he'll slip right between the front of the pack, behind mama blind bear and the first of her blind mice following her..."Nice lady, enjoy the view, just keep moving, keep that vibrant glowing green, almost neon ski jacket (where have we seen that before?) shuffling along like you're on your treadmill....ok, here I come, slipping through....no false moves now...don't try anything cute, lady...and by all means lady, don't stop..."
Well now, up here in the mountains, he's seen his share of "deer in the headlights", but it's usually only one pair....not a dozen eyes staring at him like they've just seen the Messiah..."geez Louise....look at them...lined up like ducks in a shooting gallery...Jeepers creepers....why I oughtta take them all out..."
Heavens to Betsy, W-T-F is she doing? She's stopping !!! What the F#$%k is she stopping for? She's suicidal....They're all stopping!! Dang nammit, cut harder left and get in front of her....but there's not enough room or time to turn, the ski's just can't cut it that short, there's too much ice and they're flapping up and down like a hummingbird's wings...he's trying to alter course, skidding across ice; even so, he's well enough in control not to wipe out right in front of them and knock the whole set of duckpins out... after all, at these speeds, he doesn't want to be trying any sow cows out here.
"excuse me lady, but wouldn't you be better off watching this from the sidelines?"
By now, he's beginning to accept that he's probably not going to make the turn in time. He's committed to this direction and past the point of no return....Still, he keeps trying to avoid them......."cut as hard as you can Tommy my boy, dig, dig, dig arrrrrrrghhh "; his thighs burn and feel like they'll burst...G'dammit cut harder or you'll mow her down......"This is the Captain speaking...prepare for impact........INCOMING !!!!!!
...swoosh!
....... bam!
Somewhere from the recesses of his brain, he hears an ESPN announcer saying "lady, you just got .....JACKED UP!! " ?
........... he's airborne ! "ladies and gentlemen, you are free to roam the cabin"
he sails downstream and finally lands...but....
“Where's the kaboom?”...
There was supposed to be
an earth-shattering KaBoom! “
What the heck just happened here?...Where’d she go? She just vanished !
As it turns out, lady luck (and even a sprinkle of skill) was with him...He had crossed diagonally over the front of her skis, grazing her boots as he plowed through, twisting his body like he's trying to squeeze into a elevator before the doors close...although both skier and gawker landed on their tails, he managed to avoid body blocking her into tomorrow by taking her out low at the ankles. It was the best he could do, subconsciously and instinctively, he skirted past her like he was in a slalom race curling around a gate. There was snow flying everywhere, and she suddenly disappeared from his view. His ski's first scraping hers, then cutting loose; unmanned ski's deciding for themselves which way to go...Where’d she go? The impact spun him around and he landed face down, arms wide and legs spread eagle,... as he spins in circles down the mountain, he's skidding on his belly ...looking like a sky diver as he goes flying downhill...he knows his skis are long gone, probably up at the scene of the accident. Time stood still.
There seemed to be no passage of time from moment of impact to when he came to a stop nor was any lapse of time between when he stood back up and when he arrived at the crossing back up the hill to see if she was ok. He was shaken, thought he hurt her real bad...the sound of his skis smashing into her boots still haunting him...Is she conscious? His heart is pounding…
Running up the hill, he's mumbling to himself, muffling his words. Why didn't I shout something...like 'make woom'? 'clear wout'? 'get outta the fweakin' way! what's he saying, he can't speak, he's so frightened he can't even think coherently...she'd be lucky if she got up with only ONE leg broken after that collision....all she had to do is keep movin'..."oh man, I gotta call ski patrol, there'll be rescue vans, the hospital, news cameras ......" but it wasn't my fault, he cries to himself...!!!"
He arrives after what seemed like a sprint on his tippy toes of his ski boots racing uphill and immediately asks if she's ok, and to his bewilderment, she announces, she's fine. "Are you sure?" He fails to feel relieved. Yes, she declares, "I'm ok, it's my fault I stopped"....again he asks..." but are you sure your ok?" He can't believe it. The sound his skis made hitting her boots sure sounded ominous... He thinks she must be delirious, asks again, "really i'm fine".....He let her know that he did everything he could to avoid her, and he did, but again she says it's her fault, but somehow that doesn't make him feel any better....but he apologizes sincerely once again, and walks on back down to gather his skis and realizes they are quite a ways down...and didn't realize his poles took off without him as well. Thoughts swirl around his head..."how is it possible?....I know I was heading right for her, how could I have missed bodyslamming her...what angel, by the grace of God, came down and saved this woman?...it's as if I skied through her... and what about me, I don't feel a thing" He's truly puzzled.
....and not one of them even asked if I was hurt in any way, not once...
He clips on his skis and straps on his poles, then looks back up only to see a tidal wave of snow coming right at him ! OMG! Lightning doesn't strike twice, does it?
"heavens to murgatroyd, exit stage left!"....
He thinks to move but judges it for a moment and predicts he's safe...he waits for what seemed like eternity....the wave still keeps coming, he can't see through it, snow is flying everywhere. "It's a twister, auntie em, it's a twister!" He looks uphill, above all the mass of powder, and sees the same single file line still up there, like they are playing red rover, red rover, send another one over...only it has grown to about a dozen onlookers now...meanwhile, the wave of oncoming snow breaks and simmers down, stops 2 feet in front of him, and as it clears and settles, he realizes it's a snowboarder....who promptly announces 'sorry dude, I ran into a crowd up there and lost it..." Tomba takes a breath and says, "I know what you mean, man, I know what you mean"....and offers a hand to help him up.
He skis the rest of the way down in shock and disbelief...he boards the chairlift and tries to sort out the details...Still in shock as he glides up the mountain on the chairlift. His travels cross the "middle highway" trail below. He chuckles as he reads a sign on the trail below that crosses the very same ptarmigan run......."look uphill before crossing" "look uphill before crossing ? "....I'm going back down there and add "and if you see someone coming down, for crying out loud, DO NOT CROSS! "
He's dazed, still a little foggy, but can still read signs on the chairlift support poles as his chair passes them...There is a picture of a skier leaning way over rounding a gate on a slalom race, the gate lying almost flat after being hit by his hips or elbows with quote beneath it....
" some gates just bend, others kneel down in fear"
And then it happened...with the blinding light of an epiphany, it all became crystal clear...."some gates just bend, others kneel down in fear "... so that’s where she disappeared to, that’s why there was no kaboom….Thank you ma'am, you probably saved both our lives....I pray and hope you are well...
And so, there you have it…All's well that ends well...keep to the code…boys and girls, keep to the code…
At the end of the day, he heads to the lodge, to pop a cold one, and sit back and enjoy the warmth of the late afternoon spring sunshine, maybe listen to the live band. He drops himself down on an Adirondack chair… An Aerosmith tribute band is playing " train kept a 'rollin ".....how fitting….
...he sips his corona and toasts " here's to a great winter! " and floats off into a daydream…
…Stay tuned....
the ski's are off and winter is behind us; spring is in the air, and I think I hear steel drums...
“Aye, Calypso, I drink to your spirit, the places you’ve been to, the things you have shown us, the stories you tell’ Aye, Calypso I’ll sing to your spirit, the men who have served you so long and so well !
Yodelayehee, yodlelayeheewhoo
--Tomba, aka Tom the Bomb…
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SkiTiki - Tomba's Spillage over the village
OK, fellow subscribers to the day in the life of Tiki Tomaki...
This time, I may have met a downhill ski run I couldn't beat....I admit defeat...I lay my skis down at the foot of the mountain in shame...I offer them to the snow gods, take them, they're yours....sons of bches...
The ski run is in Bretton Woods...named Fire Tower, connecting to McIntire's Ride....
"Yeah, right, McIntire's ride indeed, I've renamed to "Tom's incredible spillage above the village..." "
and so the story goes....
My story begins on a quiet snowy day in the White Mountains. The early morning skiing was filled with perfectly exhilarating rides, beautiful conditions, fresh snow...just ideal...
Let's join our hero as he confidently careens down a black diamond run, fearlessly challenging himself to balance speed & agility; daring himself to burn his thighs right off those short little stumpy legs of his...... yes, let's follow his journey....
Tomba! Tomba! Tomba! ...Yes, our boy, Tomba, ....going at it at all out top-speed, finds him self propelled off a sudden drop off while making a right turn away from the tree line, he's airborne and when his skis hit the ground they skid down the steep unfathomable decline, nearly 70 degrees (and I’m not talking the temperature).....
Well, it's not like he didn't see it coming, he did, but he never imagined the drop would be so steep, so sudden...so damn far down..."Wahoo! yeah baby!" he feels sudden weightlessness; that butterfly flutter in his belly ......he lands back on the planet with no chance for recovery...he was doomed from the time his skis left the snow (and if not then, definitely when they hit the snow...) and so begins the incredible spillage above the village....
Our hero lands with skis perpendicular to the hill (not exactly a textbook landing by any stretch of the imagination), his momentum of the turn spins him backwards and downwards, he lands on his back with his head pointing downhill; nose & toes up (how fitting)... in a splash of snow, ice and possibly some nose excess...he peruets like a break-dancer on a sidewalk and rejoins his slide head first down the steep drop off...I repeat head first, on his back, with his legs high in the air so as to not get his legs get caught up in his skis while skating away downhill, unaware that his ski's have already abandoned him. His bindings had properly disengaged the skis....He must have looked like a stranded cockroach lying on his back with his legs and arms waving. He could barely see the tall evergreens pass him by through his snow covered goggles...head bobbing along, helmet steering.... at ground level, he enjoyed the unlikely views staring up at snow covered hemlocks, tall firs, mixed with pines that whizzed past him like picket fence and ..."was that a birch?"...maybe even a snowmaking pole...."dammit, I forgot about those poles, the snowmaking guns" yes, thank god he missed that...
Proving part one of Newton's laws of motion...."a body in motion will remain in motion" (and why they call it Super-G),
As he's sliding down like a runaway locomotive, he is well aware that he's on the left edge of the downhill slope, the snow's edge before the drop into the woods.....he realizes that should his projection slide him down to his left, maybe a just a foot or two, he will go off the edge, he'll be off the run and into the trees....and the second part of Newton’s law of motion will take over ...."unless acted upon by another force"....
" another force, yeah, like a friggin' TREE! and how far apart are those snow making poles anyway? how soon before the next one comes?" " I hope this helmet works...."
"Ok, ..deep breath...long sigh...how long can I keep sliding, anyway? How long have I been sliding? I've been sliding a while now, I'm getting thirsty, cold one to go, please...OH, man, I think I’m picking up speed! Holy crap, I AM picking up speed!" Is that possible? of course, it is, I’m AM going downhill!" What a mix of gravity, inertia, lack of friction with lots of momentum....and one dumb ass, oh joy...hang tight there big boy"
Well, Newton’s laws did take over and our human bobsled did finally come to a stop (change in slope, more gravity, more friction, decrease in velocity)....he lays there, he counts his limbs... they're all there, all five, both nuts, all movable...head's fine; neck's good - no hits, but a little sore on the left elbow... and no skis...and no idea they left him somewhere 30 maybe 40 feet uphill...and what a steep uphill it is..."That's great, just great, who invented brakes on skis anyway? What the hell are they doing way up there?"
...Now, to add insult to injury, he had to make the lonely uphill climb in stiff ski boots, not exactly a walk in the park...and so, he wipes his goggles, blows his nose, giggles for a second, then looks up to the snowy sky and thanks the Lord he can even walk at all, and starts his climb to retrieve his skis....he forgot, in all this mayhem, that his fists still tightly clenched his poles and they were still attached via strap to his wrist..."ah, my trusty walking sticks"...so he uses them to traverse up the steep climb...while his only hope for help is gone, a call for his son, (who successfully landed the jump ahead of him and is probably a mile down the mountain by now and probably doesn't realize his poor old pop has lost his wheels....."oh well, just the same, no need for the boy to have seen such an embarrassing landing anyway...He'd never let me live it down...or forget it..".
When he finally reaches the skis, he puts his right one on first for stability....however, he's still on a slope and getting that left ankle to bend enough to get the second boot to lock into the binding standing on a 70 degree slope, is well, a little difficult. He tries once...the ski slides away, he tries twice...he slides away, three times...he falls over, again and again he keeps trying, the poor fat bastard is out of breath from bending over...His frustration now begins to mount..."Get it in there you son of a!" By now, the sweat is building under his many layers of technologically improved ski clothing, he can feel steam floating off his body... he curses, more than once, and in more than one language. Seven tries and the damn boot still won't lock into the binding. OK, another couple of deep breaths, his face mask now soaked from his heavy breathing, his goggles fogging up..."I'm gonna give you one more mother ing chance ... you son of a c'mon you bastard, get in there....front toe in, now the heel" CLICK! LOCKED & LOADED...."YEAH BABY, FINALLY!"
After looking around to ensure no one was watching and after one huge deep godzillian breath and he's off again like a deer running through the forest....He doesn't remember anyone even coming by, not a soul ever saw it happen, "if a tree falls in the forest, and no one is there.... "
Skiing away like a bank robber on the getaway he thinks to himself..."Now, how does that saying go? ski on the edges? Or is it ski on the edge?.....I wish I could have known the difference...before that run...and maybe even after...."
He catches up to his son, relays what happened and ...... not afraid to be once bitten, twice shy, our ski-mental case immediately jumps the next high speed chairlift to the top to redo the run...or as they say, Get right back on that horse! No mountain will get the best of him...no way...He's going down that run again and this time....well, THIS time I'll show that mountain who's boss....
Now, I know what you're thinking.... Oh yeah, I know, ....this guy's lack of brains has no limits...
but only those of you, who, like me, are ski-challenged, psychologically impaired, and mentally lacking would ever understand why...Why does a man ski down a mountain...?
BECAUSE IT'S THERE!
So there, on the same mountain, the same man, goes down the same run...
... and gets the same results!.....
Score? Mountain 2, human 0.....
Oh well, he decides he's not willing to take strike 3, he moves on to an easier run, his pride and rump, both bruised a bit but, as he puts it,
".... those who ski and walk away, live to ski another day !...." Ah, F#$% - IT! I'm not a complete idiot, you know!"
...Tomba....
no worries...cheers! (see attached)
stay tuned....ski season is not over...Yodelay-he-who
This time, I may have met a downhill ski run I couldn't beat....I admit defeat...I lay my skis down at the foot of the mountain in shame...I offer them to the snow gods, take them, they're yours....sons of b
The ski run is in Bretton Woods...named Fire Tower, connecting to McIntire's Ride....
"Yeah, right, McIntire's ride indeed, I've renamed to "Tom's incredible spillage above the village..." "
and so the story goes....
My story begins on a quiet snowy day in the White Mountains. The early morning skiing was filled with perfectly exhilarating rides, beautiful conditions, fresh snow...just ideal...
Let's join our hero as he confidently careens down a black diamond run, fearlessly challenging himself to balance speed & agility; daring himself to burn his thighs right off those short little stumpy legs of his...... yes, let's follow his journey....
Tomba! Tomba! Tomba! ...Yes, our boy, Tomba, ....going at it at all out top-speed, finds him self propelled off a sudden drop off while making a right turn away from the tree line, he's airborne and when his skis hit the ground they skid down the steep unfathomable decline, nearly 70 degrees (and I’m not talking the temperature).....
Well, it's not like he didn't see it coming, he did, but he never imagined the drop would be so steep, so sudden...so damn far down..."Wahoo! yeah baby!" he feels sudden weightlessness; that butterfly flutter in his belly ......he lands back on the planet with no chance for recovery...he was doomed from the time his skis left the snow (and if not then, definitely when they hit the snow...) and so begins the incredible spillage above the village....
Our hero lands with skis perpendicular to the hill (not exactly a textbook landing by any stretch of the imagination), his momentum of the turn spins him backwards and downwards, he lands on his back with his head pointing downhill; nose & toes up (how fitting)... in a splash of snow, ice and possibly some nose excess...he peruets like a break-dancer on a sidewalk and rejoins his slide head first down the steep drop off...I repeat head first, on his back, with his legs high in the air so as to not get his legs get caught up in his skis while skating away downhill, unaware that his ski's have already abandoned him. His bindings had properly disengaged the skis....He must have looked like a stranded cockroach lying on his back with his legs and arms waving. He could barely see the tall evergreens pass him by through his snow covered goggles...head bobbing along, helmet steering.... at ground level, he enjoyed the unlikely views staring up at snow covered hemlocks, tall firs, mixed with pines that whizzed past him like picket fence and ..."was that a birch?"...maybe even a snowmaking pole...."dammit, I forgot about those poles, the snowmaking guns" yes, thank god he missed that...
Proving part one of Newton's laws of motion...."a body in motion will remain in motion" (and why they call it Super-G),
As he's sliding down like a runaway locomotive, he is well aware that he's on the left edge of the downhill slope, the snow's edge before the drop into the woods.....he realizes that should his projection slide him down to his left, maybe a just a foot or two, he will go off the edge, he'll be off the run and into the trees....and the second part of Newton’s law of motion will take over ...."unless acted upon by another force"....
" another force, yeah, like a friggin' TREE! and how far apart are those snow making poles anyway? how soon before the next one comes?" " I hope this helmet works...."
"Ok, ..deep breath...long sigh...how long can I keep sliding, anyway? How long have I been sliding? I've been sliding a while now, I'm getting thirsty, cold one to go, please...OH, man, I think I’m picking up speed! Holy crap, I AM picking up speed!" Is that possible? of course, it is, I’m AM going downhill!" What a mix of gravity, inertia, lack of friction with lots of momentum....and one dumb ass, oh joy...hang tight there big boy"
Well, Newton’s laws did take over and our human bobsled did finally come to a stop (change in slope, more gravity, more friction, decrease in velocity)....he lays there, he counts his limbs... they're all there, all five, both nuts, all movable...head's fine; neck's good - no hits, but a little sore on the left elbow... and no skis...and no idea they left him somewhere 30 maybe 40 feet uphill...and what a steep uphill it is..."That's great, just great, who invented brakes on skis anyway? What the hell are they doing way up there?"
...Now, to add insult to injury, he had to make the lonely uphill climb in stiff ski boots, not exactly a walk in the park...and so, he wipes his goggles, blows his nose, giggles for a second, then looks up to the snowy sky and thanks the Lord he can even walk at all, and starts his climb to retrieve his skis....he forgot, in all this mayhem, that his fists still tightly clenched his poles and they were still attached via strap to his wrist..."ah, my trusty walking sticks"...so he uses them to traverse up the steep climb...while his only hope for help is gone, a call for his son, (who successfully landed the jump ahead of him and is probably a mile down the mountain by now and probably doesn't realize his poor old pop has lost his wheels....."oh well, just the same, no need for the boy to have seen such an embarrassing landing anyway...He'd never let me live it down...or forget it..".
When he finally reaches the skis, he puts his right one on first for stability....however, he's still on a slope and getting that left ankle to bend enough to get the second boot to lock into the binding standing on a 70 degree slope, is well, a little difficult. He tries once...the ski slides away, he tries twice...he slides away, three times...he falls over, again and again he keeps trying, the poor fat bastard is out of breath from bending over...His frustration now begins to mount..."Get it in there you son of a
After looking around to ensure no one was watching and after one huge deep godzillian breath and he's off again like a deer running through the forest....He doesn't remember anyone even coming by, not a soul ever saw it happen, "if a tree falls in the forest, and no one is there.... "
Skiing away like a bank robber on the getaway he thinks to himself..."Now, how does that saying go? ski on the edges? Or is it ski on the edge?.....I wish I could have known the difference...before that run...and maybe even after...."
He catches up to his son, relays what happened and ...... not afraid to be once bitten, twice shy, our ski-mental case immediately jumps the next high speed chairlift to the top to redo the run...or as they say, Get right back on that horse! No mountain will get the best of him...no way...He's going down that run again and this time....well, THIS time I'll show that mountain who's boss....
Now, I know what you're thinking.... Oh yeah, I know, ....this guy's lack of brains has no limits...
but only those of you, who, like me, are ski-challenged, psychologically impaired, and mentally lacking would ever understand why...Why does a man ski down a mountain...?
BECAUSE IT'S THERE!
So there, on the same mountain, the same man, goes down the same run...
... and gets the same results!.....
Score? Mountain 2, human 0.....
Oh well, he decides he's not willing to take strike 3, he moves on to an easier run, his pride and rump, both bruised a bit but, as he puts it,
".... those who ski and walk away, live to ski another day !...." Ah, F#$% - IT! I'm not a complete idiot, you know!"
...Tomba....
no worries...cheers! (see attached)
stay tuned....ski season is not over...Yodelay-he-who
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