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
