About two thirds of the people who signed up for this trip were from countries that, oh, let’s say they do not generally do very well in the Winter Olympics. So they’d never done snow sports before and got free ski and snowboard lessons. The rest of us could always find them, just by looking out for crowds of people in matching rented snowsuits scattered all over the snow as if a bomb had just gone off.
I’ve been going to Boreal since the 60s. It’s a good park if you’re expectations aren’t too high. We’ve all been trained by our illustrious employer to keep our expectations extremely low, so it was a good fit. When we arrived, only two lifts were in operation, and only one of them went to the ridge, and by the time I got down from my first trip up there they had shut it down. Wind, they said. Pussies. It wasn’t windy. Breezy, yes, icy, crusty, colder than fuck, but windy?
So we went round and round in tight little circles on the beginner’s lift, u-u-up, down, u-u-u-up, down, u-u-u-u-up, down. Fun! Well. Beats workin’.
5 comments:
Love the night picture.
No pics of drinking cocoa in the lodge? Cause that's the only thing that would ever get me to anything called a "ski trip."
Cool. I'm boarding in Breckenridge Wednesday.
It certainly does beat working - looks lovely Don.
In recognition of all the long hours, lost weekends, broken families, receding hairlines and oxygen deprivation, we were put on buses Wednesday afternoon with just enough beer and chips to last the trip and tossed out upon the mountainside.
Heh - sounds like something Citigroup does...
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