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On snow! That is where I want to be. And that is exactly where I have been the past two days. Last night was my first ski of the season, of course not counting the so-called skiing I did on a hunk of ice in the Italian Alps in July. On Thursday and Friday, the mountains here in Vermont received upwards of twenty inches of new snow. That is a lot considering they were lacking their typical white crowns before the storm.
For an hour and fifteen minutes last night I skied back and forth along a four-kilometer length of mild terrain up at Bolton Valley Resort, just twenty-five minutes from my house in Jericho. Along for the ride was Denise Teela, a rising biathlete in her own right. We started our ski around three thirty in the afternoon, gliding along the powder snow that had been packed down by a roller probably a few hours before.
The first time on snow for me seems to get easier every season. After a few awkward strides on some older Rossignol skis of mine, I moved into a smooth and graceful technique not possible on rollerskis. Fortunately, I never put rollerski tips on my Toko poles, simply because the tips are hard enough metal for pavement. Denise was not so lucky as she had forgotten to switch her rollerski tips for snow baskets. I had a pair of classic poles in the car, so she was a little better off than before.
Sunset approached and at around five o'clock we were skiing under the red and orange hues of the falling sun. With nearly perfect conditions, it was difficult to leave. But there would be more days of skiing to come. Finally, the real season is here.
Peace,
Brian
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