What Goes Up
WHAT GOES UP Skiing was never one of my strengths. I liked it as long as I felt I was in control. I was often not in control on the runs. Perhaps if I had started in my youth I would not have had quite as many unusual events linked to the slopes. The one experience I will always carry with me leaves me with a grin, and it was remarkable for a number of reasons, but mostly because I lived to remember it!
It's strange that skiing did not come easy to me. I am a dance and fitness instructor and as my mother pointed out "You have the rhythm and the strength!"
"Yes, that is true Mom but I'm scared. I know all the moves and understand the strategy but I'm skiing mechanically, like a robot with programming and a stiff body to match. Perhaps I should stick to dancing!"
The day started out with a small spill. It was the usual. I was skiing too fast and felt nervous so I threw myself to the side. Then not wanting to look like a coward, I agreed to get off the beginner slopes and be a bit more daring.
We took a medium slope. I was following my partner, he being a few meters ahead of me took a narrow curve and I followed him. Well I almost followed him. We were travelling a good pace and I didn't want to lose him. I should not have tried to go his speed. Me and speed do not make a good match.
I didn't quite make the turn and soon I was air-born, flying off the run. Instead of going down, I headed across the slope and the thrust had me flying through the air heading for too many trees.
My ski partner apparently noticed I was missing and when he didn't see me following he decided to back-track. That would involve awkwardly sidestepping back up the slope.
Meanwhile I was trying to extricate myself from my dilemma. In my predicament I didn't know whether I should laugh or cry, because I was wedged into a weird space.
Soon I heard his anxious call, "Ellie, where are you?" "I'm here." I called out.
"Where is here?" was his questioning response.
My skiing finale, abruptly and surprisingly, had deposited me up in the branches of a tree. There I was wedged, a few meters (yards) above the snowline, with skis on either side of the trunk and me appearing to be an avid air-born tree hugger.
I looked at the sticky sap from the tree, spread across my beautiful new skiing outfit, surprised that both the outfit and my body seemed to have survived my flight and unusual landing. "I'm kinda treed," was my response.
I'm glad I couldn't see his reaction to my news. I know when he finally spotted me, he would realize there was really no way he could help me. This was one situation where I would have to do it alone!
It took me quite some time to figure out how to extract myself and get down out of the tree. It was during that descend that I seriously considered hanging up the ski boots and sticking to the dance floor.
My one scary memory of that day was seeing the tree coming at me, and knowing there was no way to snow-plough to stop, no way to dig in, or fall to the side to stop my momentum, because at that moment I was flying!
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