Utter Abandon

I confess I am a snow bunny.  My absolute favorite season is winter. The colder ... the better.  I am still wide-eyed, like a child, when I begin to see the snow start to fall.  Why does it seem like it always snows during the middle of the night?  I'm sure there is a scientific reason for this. All I know, is there have been times, over the years, when I have gotten up on purpose during the middle of the night just to watch it snow.

Some of my favorite vacations have been ski trips with my friends. On more than one occasion, twelve or more of us have rented a home in a ski area and have spent the week skiing, playing cards in the evening, and cooking special meals.  Fun! Fun!  When I think back on it, I am probably pretty lucky that I had more than one ski adventure.

My first ski trip was to Waterville Valley, New Hampshire.  Yes, I learned to ski on ice, and I must say I prefer it over powder.  I never mastered edging in powder, and I have a tendency to just fall over.  My first adventure was a ski package that was all inclusive, even including 1 1/2 hours of instruction each day.  I learned to ski by the Graduated Length Method, GLM.  If my skiing prowess hadn't indicated BEGINNER, my skis surely did. They were only 3 feet long. I didn't get my poles right off the bat either. I remember my ski class was all so proud when we finally got 4 1/2 foot skis and poles. Our outward appearance, at least, looked like we might know what we were doing.

I skied the entire week of my winter get-away. To be that young again and have such endurance.  But, the last day was my undoing. In typical ski story fashion, it literally was the final run of the final day of vacation. We got on the last lift of the day and up the mountain we went.  Those rides have to be some of the most peaceful times of my life. The quiet that surrounded me was awesome.  I could actually hear twigs snap off trees, and of course the blanket of white was magnificent.  There were a lot of people going up the mountain for "one last run."  This made for a longer than normal ride on the lift, and I enjoyed every second.

When we disembarked we were on a run called "Utter Abandon." Truer words were never spoken.  It was high, steep, and one mogul after another.  I slowly, very slowly started to make my way down.  Turn to the right over one mogul. then left, and repeat.  Because of the long lift ride, and the blowing cold wind, my bindings had frozen.  I didn't know that, so when I fell very, very slowly my foot stayed forward facing down the mountain, and my left knee turned completely sideways.  This time I heard a snap, but it wasn't the twigs on the trees, it was my knee.  Determined that I would get down that mountain on my own, I insisted on getting up. With the help of my friends I almost stood up, but then quickly went right back down.  The ski patrol was called and much to my embarrassment, I got a ride down in a toboggan. My friend was so scared to try to ski down, she was begging them to pull her down too.

I really did mess up my knee, and I went home with a cast from the top of my thigh to the bottom of my ankle.  Everyone thought I was joking when I limped off the plane.

One surgery later, and the following winter, equipped with a brace, a wrap, and a knee-sleeve I anxiously got on the lift.  Once again I felt the peace of the ride up the mountain, more than a little fear standing at the top, a tentative start down the mountain, and then a bit more abandon midway down.  Not utter abandon, but normal, fun, skimming over the top of the snow abandon.  Safely at the bottom, I looked back up at the mountain, then at my friends.  We smiled at each other, then we giggled like school girls.  With a Yeehaw!! out of my mouth, I was back.  Back with my favorite snow, cold, mountain, and peaceful quiet of the ski slopes.  There's just nothing like it.

This was written as a challenge from The Red Dress Club.  We were asked to right about the first time we _________after_________.