An Icy Path

I was wrong about something. For some reason, I believed that anyone who could walk, could cross country ski. I'm not talking about the Olympics version of cross country skiing. I'm talking about the type that even old ladies in Norway can do, where you just slowly slide along on fairly even ground.

Lindsay made a liar out of me. He couldn't stay upright, so I ended up skiing by myself.

One of the things I like about cross country skiing is getting away from other people. Downhill looks like more fun, but I don't like crowds of people. Above, is the ski slope at Badger Pass in Yosemite. It was almost deserted. If I could have whole runs to myself like this, I might switch to downhill. I'm not sure if it was just a slow day or if the economy has hit skiers.

It was just as well that Lindsay didn't go on my little run down the road to Glacier Point. It is a road that have I have skied several times in the past. I have referred to the route as the Bataan death march, but it is actually just long and tiring, not difficult.

My first clue of impending doom was when I passed a young, healthy looking man walking back, carrying his skis. Perhaps his equipment broke, I thought optimistically. Soon, I was on the shady side of the mountain going uphill. It wasn't bad at all.

Then I came to a downhill section. My speed started building and none of my tricks for slowing down were working. The track, pictured above was solid ice. I stepped out of the track, but all of the snow was compacted down hard and icy. I was going faster and faster, out of control. I aimed for a snowy slope to crash into, but went down before reaching it.

The fall didn't hurt me, but I destroyed another camera. What is it about digital cameras and minor trauma? The camera still works, but I can't see what I'm taking a picture of. Well, I can see through the tiny viewfinder window, but the view is different from what the lens sees. It takes a lot of trial and error to properly frame a photo.

There was a meadow next to where I fell, so I took off my skis and walked over to it. I had a nice picnic lunch in the snow and then walked back. It was embarrassing carrying my skis back, but I know that I wasn't the first person to do that and probably wasn't the last.

Once I got near the parking lot, I put the skis back on. I do have some pride.