The Widowmaker

It's a delicious, diamondiferous, defrosted Dogwood day. Sunbeams laser a crystalline blue April sky. A low-hanging stratum of crisp, steamy mist crowns the crest of the mountain like a white bridal veil. Dozens of ski tracks scar the deep- powder cushion of the safe and forgiving “Intermediate” trail going East. To the West, a treacherous trail clearly marked "Expert Only " tempts trackless, unmarked, unchallenged, virgin, serene.

Boundless energy 'n' confidence surge up from inside, pushing sensibility, fear 'n' caution aside. Damn the risk ! Screw caution ! Sensibility’s for sissies. I suddenly find myself plunging headlong down the trail no one else has yet taken “ shushbooming” it’s nearly-vertical, deep-powder slope. Skiing on the edges of my skis 'n' on the edge of disaster, spraying rooster-tail rainbows to the left, then the right. Now comes hundreds of unavoidable, unforgiving hillocks - dreaded boiler-plate moguls my ski's edges won't bite. Accidentally airborne for terrifying, interminable seconds - frantically mimicking moves I’ve only seen on TV. TIPS UP, KNEES BENT, LEAN INTO THE MOUNTAIN. Landing HARD, warp-speed and wobbly but, o my amazement STILL UNDER CONTROL One more high-speed, gut-wrenching turn to the left then a beautiful smooth, wide, lazy meadow Skiing up to a crowd at the ski lodge trailing a fierce rebel yell.

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWW

An instructor on the “Bunny Slope” turns away from class of beginners , laughing so hard he drops both his poles on the ground. "First time down The Widowmaker ?”
“High fives” all around.
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