Maturt Mondays, Week Two... Another Example Of Sterling Maturtity

Several years ago we spent Christmas in Ruidoso, New Mexico and it snowed something like 7 feet the first two days we were there. While Mr. Snoots stayed at the cabin and watched football on TV, Snooty Daughter and I took advantage of the Steep And The Deep up at the Ski Apache Ski Area, which is located about 35 miles away. Straight up the mountain.


I am proud to say that I raised both of my children to be good, strong skiers. When they were growing up, we spent a good two weeks per year skiing. Okay, I'll admit that for the basics I sent them to ski school. But hey - it was my vacation too. As they increased their skills, I paid for them to have private lessons and before long they were leaving me behind, which was slice of pure Heaven.



My big Christmas present this particular year was a *Bugzilla* which is actually an earth friendly way of capturing and disposing of spiders and any other thing that it will suck up. I use it often, to this day. Mr. Snoots was so proud of this gift. *sigh*





Ahem... Back to my story. So SD and I were skiing for our third day and the snow was amazingly crisp and light, and it was just gorgeous weather. SD was absolutely smoking me down every single run. It was like we had suddenly changed roles, and I suppose I wasn't quite ready for the switch. I thought it was supposed to happen when you could no longer keep from wetting your pants, or your bed or something. Gah! I kept insisting we take intermediate (blue) runs and she was adamant about going down expert (black) trails, which I had, of course, raised she and her brother on. Well, almost. She finally turned around (while skiing) and said "Mom, what is Wrong With You? I've never seen you ski so slow!".


I nearly tripped over my jaw as it was dragging the hard packed snow. Say What? So, being the maturt parent that I am, I said "Who are you calling slow? Moi? Then you can just eat my snow." With that brilliant remark, I was off chasing my youth once again and SD was still gaining on me. We arrived back at the lift at exactly the same time, so that was a draw.


Riding back to the top of the mountain in the gondola, SD suggested that we try the Ski Patrol's secret *Powder Glade*, which was not in any way "Out Of Bounds". It was located just off a named, marked run, through the trees. There were no ropes, no flags, and no warnings posted anywhere, so I said "Let's Get It, Baby Girl. You. Are. On.".


As we made our ascent into the glade, I was astonished at the amount of powder. Apparently, the ski patrol had been too busy to give it many turns. Normally, any powder would be long gone. All I could think of was how lucky we were to be able to ski the run while it still had several feet of the fluffy white stuff. What Was I Thinking? Oh, that's right. I was thinking I was still young and in great shape. Again, what was I thinking?


SD took off as if she had been launched like a rocket, as I stood and watched the beautiful power and grace with which she skis. It was a poignant moment for me. It was almost like seeing myself again, as I once had been when I lived in Aspen so many years ago. Before I knew it, she had dropped over the crest and disappeared from sight. I suddenly found myself alone in the glade.


No Problem! So, I turned to face the fall line of the mountain and shoved off. The only glitch was that I'd forgotten you do not use your edges in the deep stuff and I was promptly tossed on my ass nose, without prior notification. Covered in snow, I thought "Screw This! I'm going to traverse over to the hard pack and beat her smart little bootay down the hill." So, I began my traverse across the glade, gaining speed as I went. Luckily, the temperatures has warmed a bit since the big snow, causing it to be a bit more grabby than I cared for, so I stopped.


It was at that very moment I happened to lean over, in order to see what the drop off was like. Well, I can tell you that it took my breath away. I was staring down at about a 200 100 foot drop off to the neighboring run. Had I not decided to stop, I'd probably be dead or an invalid for the rest of my life, which would not be good with my claustrophobia issues. I looked back toward the powder glade and realized I could no longer go down that way, as I had dropped down too much during my traverse. At that moment, I seriously began to panic. Hyperventilate even. Who was ever going to find me there until *Sweep*, which was four hours down the lane?


Then it hit me like a lead brick to the forehead. What if SD had eventually been faced with the same dilemma? What if she had gone flying, in all her glory, over the edge down a steep drop off? My angst gained momentum and I'm pretty certain that I could have used a brown paper bag to breathe into at that moment.


As I was trained to do, I stuck my skis into the snow, crossed, which is the universal signal for skier distress. I then went on to my own personal pity party, thinking no one would ever find me because the run I'd attempted to access was so much lower. If you look up or down while skiing, you will surely get tossed into a rolling snowball. Really. It's one of the first rules. How was anyone ever going to find me? Alright. Fine. I screwed up and the predicament I was in was entirely my own fault, which didn't really help my mind set.


My next maturt decision was to start bawling like a wee little babe. You know. Because it always helps so much. I honestly sat there thinking I was going to die. Right there. In that glade with the 200 100 foot drop off. I started to sob for some crazy reason. I just knew I no longer had the body strength to hike back up and I was too frightened to try going down. Yes, me. The Big Time Skier. Age can do that to you. You know what I mean. I was past that *bullet proof* stage in life. Waaaay past. So I Sat. And I waited.


After what seemed like hours (Fine. It was maybe twenty minutes, okay?) I noticed two skiers ripping down Apache Bowl, which was above me by several runs. I think that by the time I was trying to flag them down they had already figured out that I was in distress, so they traversed above me, to my approximate position. They found me wallowing in my self pity and tears, which was embarrassing enough. Both of them were college kids, about the same age as my daughter, so I could only imagine what they were thinking about me. (as in: this lady thinks she's on the Titanic, which is sinking... when she is clearly only lost & can't ski) Oh, Yeah. I knew what they were thinking alright.

By the time they finally talked me down the steep incline (one kid carrying my skis and the other with my poles) I was thanking them profusely. I think I also offered my daughter to them, in marriage. They couldn't get away from me fast enough. Luckily, I caught up with them and passed them, in a downhill tuck. The looks on their faces were priceless. Heh heh...



If you have a particularly maturt moment or so of your own, please feel free to join in. Misery loves company!