Snoqualmie Pass Cross Country

Published on 2003-1-5 by Michael Stanton

Skiing at Snoqualmie Pass again, 1/5/2003

Kris, Theron, and I set out on x-country skis for the upper trails of the x-country ski area. But the snow was rock hard ice! Kris and I had metal edges, which helped a lot, but Theron was sans edges!! We took a lift up (the wrong one), and promptly crashed into a snowback on disembarking. We skied and fell and walked and fell down to the right lift. At the disembark point (I like that word...disembark), I sabatoged Kris's budding attempt at a smooth exit with a cruel pole thrust, sailing to an awful victory! Theron, screaming that he couldn't steer, fell spectacularly. We walked down an icy hole-filled road to a smoother road that we could just barely ski. We made it to Grand Junction, and drank hot chocolate, but first I spit some out mid-conversation because it was flaying the inside of my mouth. That thermos was still hot at 4 pm! Finally we were in the sun with good views, and we found a road with some good snow. We skied up and down this road, which provided the only "fun" skiing of the day. Alas though, Theron's binding (NNN) broke, and he was really unable to turn. So he'd plan his crashes strategically.

Once I was "showing off" (not my words) how I could actually run up a hill on skis. At the top of the hill I fell flat on my face, emitting a short, barking scream. Peels of laughter exploded at my misfortune. Kris noticed that a ski-patrol lady told the same story three times (about an avalanche pit with water streaming out of the sliding layer). Granted, it was a good story. We cancelled ambitious plans to ski around Mt. Catherine, because the conditions were so difficult. We had to ski down a more difficult way on a downhill run. This thing was like a glacier in October - bare hard blue ice! Somehow, Kris and I both skied down it in extreme frightened snowplow position. Theron knew when he was beaten and smartly walked on the side. I was feeling pretty clever after having survived that, so I skied all the way to the car, but suffered terribly on the final slopes. Once I fell because a thick alder branch stepped in front of my ski and stood stock still to trip me. My body, a mere sack of bones then slid down the ice, scraping along for 20 feet. My wails echoed around the valley. We ate at my favorite BBQ restaurant: "Rhoadies!"