Indigestion, gurgles, and
Loud gut thumps
Tell me that junk food in
Moderation
Is not working.
Junk food
equals
Corn, wheat, dairy.
Abstinence followed
By moderation
Was my plan;
Who knew I was
An extremist?
My gut knows better
Than I.
When did I become
Fragile?
A lovely spring interrupted
by blowing wind, sideways rain.
I step outside and face the wind
to put on a hat,
which controls whipping hair
for a moment.
The brim shields my face
from the driving rain
as long as I turn slightly
to face leeward.
Finally! An adventure to post!
The timing was right for a change. A big winter storm was predicted to dump a fair amount of cold, fresh snow on the mountains and we already had a weekend getaway in mind. Our plan was to get up early on Saturday and ski at Stevens Pass resort. To our surprise we got there nearly 40 minutes before the lifts began running. No wonder we got such a great parking place!
As we waited in the lounge for the lifts to start we wondered why we set the alarm for so early and why we were in such a rush to get out of the house. At 8:55 we put on our helmets, jackets, and gloves, leisurely put on our skis and slid down the the lift area, only to wait in line for another 5 minutes with a bunch of enthusiastic (read: impatient) skiers and boarders.
The lines opened and we clamored for a chair. Below us the snow was beautifully untracked. The first skiers started down the runs. We did not hear any scraping of skis on ice — only the swoosh of fresh powder. Off the chair we found fresh lines. The skiing was marvelous! At that moment we knew exactly why the alarm was set so early and why we arrived so long before the chairs started.
We skied until the snow warmed from rising air temperature. The consistency felt like mashed potatoes under our skis. Partially skied out areas were difficult to negotiate. We skied under a closed chair and felt the snow slide out from underneath us. A small wet-slab avalanche. A series of them actually. I didn't like that feeling so we scooted back to the open runs and skied until we were starving, our legs were tired, and our gear wet from warming temperatures.
After lunch we drove down the east side of the pass to Leavenworth and scouted the next day's backcountry route. To our mild surprise, the snow levels were way higher on the mountains than we expected. We decided we would ski in the backcountry back up at Stevens Pass on our way home.
Our room was prepaid from our somewhat disastrous start to President's Day weekend in February — the weekend where I was sick with a horrible, rotten, awful cold and Randy forgot his pack back at home. The motel was gracious enough to allow us to postpone our stay. We checked in, relaxed, had a short nap, feshened up then walked around the charming little Bavarian-wannabe town. Had a beer at the local brewery then dinner at Visconti's, which is the nicest restaurant in town. I had lemon, dungeness crab linguine. So good! Randy had the rack of lamb. It was the tenderest lamb I've ever had.
After dinner we walked back to our room, relaxed a bit more then slept the sleep of those who played hard during the day. And slept and slept and slept. We woke up to pouring rain, which turned to big white snow flakes. No alpine start for Sunday morning. We finally got packed up and went to breakfast at 9:30, somewhat dreading our plan to ski for the day. Randy asked if I wanted to get soaking wet. I replied that I didn't mind for a couple hours.
Not sure exactly what time we got up to the pass but by the time we got geared up (from inside the car because it was spitting snow outside) and started up the hill it was probably 11:30. Again, not an alpine start. We followed a well-beaten path by parties of skiers and snowshoers who had gotten an earlier start. The sun came out. Soon I was down to shirt sleeves
In spite of the large parties ahead of us, we kept finding fresh lines. The snow was high quality powder until we reached a certain lower elevation, where it had warmed to mashed potato consistency. We skinned back up the hill four times! My new Black Diamond Starlet skis had lots of float and I had a great time bouncing through the turns down the slope. Here are a couple pictures:
Randy on the first descent
Skiing through the trees
My little slab avalanche
Moderation is the goal, so
No junk food until Friday;
But the donut craving came today,
A day early.
Must wait until Friday!
Will I even crave a donut by Friday?
That is the point,
Isn’t it?
Who makes these rules anyway?
The Moderation Ruler.
Me.
I act like a new email will change my life;
I want my life to change,
be different from what it is.
I’m bored.
Tell me what to do,
is it okay?
Hold my hand.
What if the guidance never comes
(and it doesn’t).
Then what?
Muddy fields, tall stemmed daffodils, tulips, and iris;
Long lines of field workers’ cars parked on the road shoulder.
Heavy grey sky threatens rain;
Two yellow school buses staged in field
to shelter the workers if the skies open.
Once, ages ago, I was a worker.
I bicycle north
Along a lonely
Farm road next
To the river.
The morning is chilly
And the sky, variable gray
With a deck of rumpled
Clouds,
Like waves
Mirroring high above the tallest
Snow-capped mountains.
Colors of late winter
Are more
than just mud brown.
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