99 Bottles of Beer

The posting of today's picture, made me think back on the first time I took a snow lift.

I attended a University in Oregon and during the winter months it definately wasn't out of the ordinary to hop in the SUV and head for the mountains on the weekend.

One of my good buddies, who instructed snowboarding on the weekends, talked me into coming up to Mt. Hood and having him give me some lessons. Up to that point, the only skiing I had done was cross country. Which in hindsight, is very different from downhill skiing and even more different from snowboarding.

So, there I was. Just outside the lodge with my rented board, my friend, and all the enthusiasm to walk away that day being as darn close to being an Olympic Snowboarder as possible.

The lesson escapes my memory, except for this statement, "You want to hold your hands like you're holding two pizzas."

Now, that did me very little good considering I'm almost always hungry, and if I envisioned pizzas on my hands it usually just threw off my entire concentration because, truthfully, with the lodge so close, I ended up wanting to go find some stranger sitting secluded with a large pizza carrying a look that begged for company.

So my friend gives me the best lesson he could with the free time that he had between his other lessons and sent me off to practice. I must not have been listening very well, or I'm just that lousy of a beginner with no beginner's luck, because I was clumbsier than you could imagine.

I ventured over to the kiddie area and hung out with all the vivacious seven and eight year olds. Surely if THEY could do it, I could do it too!

There was a nice baby hill with a rope pull.

If you've never experienced a rope pull, it's an experience one should have at some point in their life. A simple machine that circulates a rope up a small hill. You grab ahold of the rope and theoretically its supposed to pull you up the hill so you can then coast down the baby hill.

I, still entirely enthusiastic, grab ahold of that rope and not half a second later completely fall. I clog up the base of the rope hill, and let me tell you, kids are NOT forgiving. They lack all the social graces (albeit even the marginally tolerating ones) that adults have and the sneers and laughs I got made me want to find my Mommy and hide behind her.

So several tries later on that bleeping rope pull and I'm still a blundering disaster.

But then, like a miracle from God, I was able to hold on and there I went up the kiddie hill.

AMAZING! I'm sure the smile on my face was a similar smile as to when I learned to ride my bike all on my own without training wheels.

Half way up though, I got shakey and began to sway to and fro and on a rope swing, activity like that slows you up. Meanwhile I have Super Kid behind me closing in fast.

I hear, "Move it lady!"

Ack! Move it? Doesn't he know this is the farthest I've made it so far? Doesn't he see this smile on my face? But I was doing so well!!

And I try my hardest to stabalize and get going straight again. Super Kid comes crashing in to me. CRASHING! And of course our size differences leave the crash far more unforgiving on his little body than mine.

Super Kid goes collapsing down into the snow. He wasn't hurt by any means. And I got hit by the giggle bug and found the whole episode to be rather comical so I laughed.

He replies, "I'm telling my Mom on you!"

Frustrated, because now I have to go start at this damned rope pull again from the bottom, and still laughing, I reply, "You do that!"

I never did get the swing of that rope pull. But I did think that maybe I shouldn't be hanging out with all the kiddies.

So that was that for that Saturday.

The next Saturday, after I had had a week to convince myself that ~it was just a bad day for me~ and that it had nothing to do with my inability to board-- myself and some friends head back up to the mountain.

YES! Today is the DAY! "I'm so going to rock this mountain today!" I tell myself.

I dink around in the easy peasy area a bit and then grab ahold of my friend who was skiing for the first time and said, "Hey, you been up a ski lift before?"

"No."

"Hmm, me either. Doesn't look so bad though, wanna?"

"Sure!"

So on we hopped. Getting on was rather simple. Up the mountain we go. We're singing 99 bottles of beer and happy as can be. That is until we began to question how we were going to get off the lift.

I started looking ahead and began analyzing how those ahead of me were doing it. Snowboards are a bit tricky because you only keep one foot strapped in while on the lift, and let the other dangle free.

The best conclusion I could come up with on getting off the lift was to simply throw myself from my seat.

Let me tell you now, that's a mistake.

I stopped the entire lift!! I chalk it up as an opportunity for all those behind me to enjoy that winter scenery. Although their moans and groans would suggest otherwise.

The guy at the lift station at the top helped me gain composure again and pulled me off to the side. I got myself all situated back into my board and he asked me, "You okay? You going to be alright going down the mountain?"

"Me? Okay? Oh pfft! I'm fine!! Definately gonna be alright! Thanks though!"

I just had to keep telling myself that right? It really is a pain to be so stubborn sometimes. Once I get something in my head. Ugh.

I start my way down the mountain.

Thinking, "pizzas, I'm holding two pizzas...."

I hadn't gathered the whole idea of 'catching an edge' yet, so naturally it wasn't long before I fell.

When you crash and burn boarding, rarely does it ever feel good.

So I sat for awhile and people-watched. Surely there was some trick I was missing. Watching others for a bit, I thought, would teach me what I needed to know. There I sat, partially down the mountain, snow gently falling upon my face and air cold enough to freze ice twice over.

Ah ha! There goes a boarder. Hmm, they are using their snowboard like a sled! Now that looks fun.

With new inspiration, I undid my left foot from my bindings and sat my toosh right on my board, pulling up my right leg still bound to the board and started on my way down the mountain again.

Whee! Not so bad. Great idea this sled thing. Wow, you sure don't realize how heavy your foot can become if its not strapped in. My left foot began to drag causing a plow of snow to fountain over me. And with each moment passing, my speed was picking up.

Off to my side, I can see some people now stopping to watch ME go down the mountain.

I begin thinking, "you know, maybe this wasn't such a great idea. How in the world am I going to stop? I'm going fast...oh hell, I'll just toss myself off to the side and make myselef crash..yeah..my.only.choice."

So I did just that. Ouch. And again, I sat half way down the mountain wondering how I was going to get down the rest of the mountain without killing myself.

Snow Patrol stopped next to me and asked me if I was okay and if I needed a lift down. In chimes my stubborness again, "Oh I'm fine!! Just taking a breather!"

I decide the sled idea was stupid and if I ever laid eyes on that boarder that made me think it was a good idea I'd ...well, I'd...I'd do something but at the moment I needed to figure out how to get down the rest of the mountain.

I strap in my left foot again. Get myself upright and going down the mountain again. Still utterly clueless about catching an edge.

In what felt like no time at all, I go flying in the air and land hard. My body in one direction, my feet the other. That crash really hurt. But! I could now see the lodge. Oh glorious lodge.

My face was frozen, my eyelids nearly frozen shut (Invest in snow shades...totally worth it!), and my ankle was killing me (Sprained truthfully which I found out later.).

I pull myself up once again, because now the end is in sight and it gave me new motivation to get down the mountain.

Up and down again...another crash.

But this time, I decided I could take no more. The mountain won. I looked over and saw my friend that rode up in the lift with me. His venture down the mountain hadn't been all that great either. He broke one of his ski poles in half!

I unstrapped my board was walked the rest of the way down.

I was greeted with hugs and of course howling laughter at my raggedy, unloved looking self. The mountain was unforgiving.

I limped my sorry self to the lodge and looked for that stranger with pizza, but settled on hot cocoa by the window instead.

From then on, I kept to night boarding. The mountain was so much kinder to me. I learned about edges and there were no kids screaming, "MOVE IT LADY!"