First Time on Skis!

This is Dave, who has been on skis MANY times.

There's not a place on my body that's not bruised, battered or stretched!
 
It was time to get out and have another adventure with Dave and this time we chose cross-country skiing at 10,000 feet. The only problem was that I had never skied in my life.
 
We pulled to the end of the pavement, or at least to the end of where the county had pushed the snow, and from there we slid on our coats, backpacks, gloves and beanies, then clipped on our skis. I wasn't sure if this would be easy or hard, but I figured the only way to find out was to just do it.
 
With poles in-hand I maneuvered over the mound of snow pushed by the plows and moved onto a lightly used path. Dave had briefly returned to the vehicle and while he did I fell flat on my butt. Wipe-out #1. And the funny thing about it was that I couldn't get up! I looked like little Randy Parker rolling in the snow. I couldn't help but to lie there and laugh at myself.
 
Eventually I regained my footing, yet remained wobbly. It didn't take long before I biffed it again. This would be a long, long, day!
 

Vast meadows, once filled with wildflowers, now held three feet of snow.

Really, it was a shame that I had to spend my entire focus and energy looking at my feet to maintain my balance. We were in such a beautiful place. Pine trees grew all around. Vast meadows, once filled with wildflowers, now held three feet of snow. Crimson cliffs beckoned like a city skyline in the distance. We were in heaven, but all I could do was look down at my skis.
 
The distance traveled between wipe-outs gradually began to increase. I learned how to balance my weight over the skis and gained more confidence. Sometimes the point of the skis would come together like a pigeon-toed walker and naturally I would fall over. Other times the point of the skis would drift apart and I would involuntarily do the splits. That would hurt.
 
I fell in every conceivable manner: on my butt, on my face, on my hip, on my elbow. My hands and wrists took the brunt of many falls and I worried that I would twist a knee or ankle.
 
The easiest terrain was either flat, or slightly uphill. During these stretches I eventually did well, but as soon as we came to a downhill stretch I would lose control of my weight distribution and fall directly on my back.
 

Clay-colored cliffs were covered in a veneer of white.

We traveled about two miles to our turn-around destination. I estimate that I biffed it twenty to twenty-five times. I was happy to take the skis off for a moment and replenish my body with food and liquid.
 
We spent time at the overlook. This was an opportunity that not many people get to do. Although I had been at the overlook several times before, it was never during winter. This stretch of road is always closed during the the colder months.
 
Much of the clay-colored cliffs were covered in a veneer of white, with green coniferous trees poking through the layer. Most of the northern slopes sat covered in snow, while those facing the opposite direction had melted off into Ashdown Creek. In the distance we could see the globular radar tower on Blowhard.
 

Dave takes a break from gliding across the snow.

By now the breeze had picked up and it was becoming bitter cold. The sun inched toward the horizon. We certainly wouldn't want to be trapped out here at night.
 
My return trip ran much smoother. The skis glided across the snow and I felt I had a rhythm. Even though it was becoming easier, it still required a great deal of concentration.
 
At one point we stopped and for a moment just listened. A soft breeze blew through the trees and other than that there was nothing. Silence. Then two ravens lifted off from a tall pine tree and we saw the spread and flapping of their wings and the dusting of powder as it floated to the ground. Again it was silent.
 

Then it was silent.

Pink and orange hues of sunset began to gather on the clouds. We smelt the musky smell of pine needles. We were far from anywhere.
 
On our return trip I only biffed it five times. Dave biffed it once. As I gripped my poles I thought that this must be similar to how tight a jockey grips the reins of his horse. Although I wasn't falling down, it was still a challenge to stay standing.
 
At last we arrived at our starting point. I was very glad to unclip the skis and relax in a warm car on a soft seat where I had no fear of falling over. ♠

Pink and orange hues of sunset began to gather on the clouds.