As I lay awake this morning, waiting to see if we would be lucky enough to see sunshine today, I thought about our cross country skiing options. Weekends are tricky. It's hard to avoid people on any of the groomed trails. But of course, we do not have to stick to groomed trails. Snow is snow. You can take your skiing habit anywhere. Downhill skiing is more limited. Cross country frees you to explore a greater range of winter landscapes.
All these thoughts of skiing made me wonder when I last skied down a mountainside. Didn't I return to my beloved Cervinia in the Alps just a few years ago? Didn't I lure Ed to a downhill slope near our home also just a couple of winters past? I checked Ocean: oh how time flies! My return to Cervinia was in March, 2007. The nearby Tyrol Basin -- my last downhill run -- was in February 2014. Why haven't I gone anywhere since?
I read my posts from Cervinia. It was a dangerously windy set of days. At many points in the day the gondolas carrying skiers up closed for safety reasons. Nonetheless, I made it to the top of the mountain ridge and skied down into Switzerland. Then up by gondola and back down into Italy. I got knocked down by an out of control skier and nonetheless I kept on going, even though I was bruised and shaken.
Most of my Polish friends (who were in fact my first skiing buddies) still continue to ski (though not this year -- the pandemic wiped the season out for them). They are older than me (I was a wee young one in our cohort) and yet they still ski. Why have I retreated?
At the end of the day, downhill skiing is, in my view, a social thing. Even if you do a solo run down a miles long slope, you like to meet up with someone eventually and ride up with them to the summit again. And more importantly, after a day of skiing, you're dying for company. Perhaps not the rowdy apres-ski stuff that some young people relish, but just to have a good hot meal with your beloveds -- friends or family -- to cap a day of adventure. I stopped downhill skiing because return trips to beautiful mountains always depleted my travel budget even as at the end of each skiing day, I was lonely and not too happy.
I do miss the mountains in the winter. But I can't see myself returning to ski them. That image of a dinner alone after a day on the slopes keeps me away.
So, was there sunshine on this day? Well, my morning walk did reveal clouds, but of course there are clouds and then there are cloud covered skies. Recently, when I had complained to Snowdrop that we have had too many cloudy days in a row, she protested. Clouds are pretty! -- she reminded me. It's true, but days and days of dismally gray skies did not show off any clouds, just darkness and an absence of sunshine. So today is different. Take a look:
Actual clouds and in between, a glimmer of hope. Not sunshine exactly, but close to it.
Breakfast. Very late.
Immediately after I get a Zoom call from Sparrow. His sister has gone off on a bird watching expedition and I guess the little guy needed a pick-me-up. There he is, chortling away as always.'
His sister comes back home right as we are finishing one of his favorite books. Yes, it's grand to see the both of them again.
And then Ed and I do go cross country skiing and every few minutes we happily spot a splash of sunlight, before the clouds cover it up again.
And yes, our friends are in the fields, giving us a friendly stare...
I'm thinking, maybe next year we'll take all the grandkids skiing. Snowdrop and Primrose are real ice gliders. Sparrow? Well, maybe he'll watch from the sidelines. With his baby sibling. And our resident deer.
