I tried. Really, I did. I have this fear of heights. And speed. So I only kamikazied down HALF the hill. And had to pole my way to the tow rope. *ugh*
I went to the top, and was all alone, as 70 mph winds caressed the tops of neighboring mountains and flung stinging bits of ice and snow onto me. I pulled up the hood to my massive "I will never get cold in this parka" parka, turned in the coyote fur so my nose didn't freeze and watched. It was GLORIOUS. I was in white-out conditions for about 5 minutes. I couldn't see the edge of the trail, I couldn't see the side of the mountain, tho I could touch it. I was enveloped in this blanket of snow and ice and wind and...
And then it cleared. The sun came screaming out into the valley, and lit up the whole bowl. I was still alone. Decided to be brave and jump off the edge into the bowl. It was a little bowl, and no one could see me being silly and scared. I slid to the edge of the cliff, and looked down. *Only 5 feet!* and looked and looked and finally! I jumped!
What a rush! I landed in soft powder and skiied down the side of the bowl. No one else had skiied this section that day. Then - it happened. I unweighted the back of my skis enough that the shovels grabbed snow and I tipped over. Face first. Straight into deep soft fluffy cold powder.
So I made a snow angel. *flap flap flap* Well, what else could I do, stuck in the snow, face first? I wanted my rubber ducky. Rubber Ducky likes the snow. He likes it when I yell, "Fly rubber ducky! Be free!" and toss him into soft and fluffy snow.
Unfortunately, my nose didn't like the soft and fluffy snow. It was melting and my face was freezing. (Thermodynamics and Heat Transfer at work. Trust me, I went to school for 4 years learning this stuff.) So I got up, and admired the pretty snow angel.
Decided finallly, I should get out of the snow, and continue down the mountain. I then proceeded to ski every single blue trail at Alta. Except one. I couldn't find it, and if I missed it, I would have ended up on a Double Black Diamond Bowl. With no way out. Decided that I REALLY didn't need to ski that one. One time, as I was getting on a lift, up to Aggie's Alley, the weenie loser skiier next to me knocked my pole out of my hand, JUST as we got onto the lift. So I was STUCK at the top of Aggie's Alley for about 30 minutes, waiting for them to find my pole, and send it up. So, I sat up there, looking at the mountains, comtemplating my life. They started creating avalanches up there - setting of explosives against the mountain side for the extreme skiiers to be safe, and I realized just as the first explosion reverberated across the valley, that my life was just about damn near perfect. I was done with school, I had finally found a job I liked, and enjoyed. I loved my friends, and thought that they might love me. Hey, I was even losing weight. And I was skiing in some of the most gorgeous scenery I have seen in a long time. Avalanches and explosions and all.
I watched them create mini-avalanches for about 20 minutes, then I got my ski pole back, and skiied like crazy for the rest of the afternoon. Met Mom Byrne and Kathleen at the mid-lodge when I stopped for 4 o'clock feeding. Promised Mom, I would take Kathleen safely back to the base.
'Course, I did the one thing I always hated my friends for doing to me: "Kathleen, let's go this way, its not hard." and she eep'd at how steep the hill was. (Sorry Kathleen! Really. I don't REMEMBER it being that steep.) But we made it down. Safely. Breathless.
Best part was, we were going out to dinner that nite, and I just had to eat six pieces of Lindt Dark Chocolate truffle. Forced it down my throat. Piece by lovely piece. I can close my eyes, and still see that brilliant sky, and the backdrop of the mountains, and feel the silky creamy dark chocolate melting on my tongue, as the wind caressed my face, softer than a lover's kiss.
For those of you have actually made it this far, and don't actually know me, the reason eating chocolate is such a big deal is that I am an insulin dependent diabetic. Diagnosed May of 1993, and still learning to deal with it. The problem is, of course, that I am a chocoholic. I love it. I used to do just about anything for Lindt and Ghiredelli, and Godiva. Now, of course, I have to ski all day, and only after that exertion, can I allow myself the forbidden kiss of sweet chocolate. (Insert Homer Simpson 'mmmmm' here.)
We went to dinner in Salt Lake City - a place called the Spagetti Factory, in the Trolley Sq. Mall. If you are ever in Salt Lake City, check out that mall. Its neat. Cool Kite store, and an awesome leather shop. I bought the best cowboy hat from that shop.
But that was the start of a pretty good night - we'll leave it at that, and the end of one of my most perfect days.