Three Days of Cross-country Skiing

            For months I had been looking forward to three days of cross-country skiing at Willamette Pass the first weekend of February. And then, after weeks and weeks of cold weather and piles of snow, last weekend's temperatures turned warm. On the way up the pass to the lodge on Odell Lake, where I would be staying with others from the Grants Pass Nordic Club, I was shocked at how far I had to go before hitting snow. At the lodge there was endless talk about the weather, double-checks of various weather sites on phones, and discussions about whether the snow would be any good at all.

            Probably it would be heavy and wet, we thought on the first morning, but there we were, so off we went. I chose to go with the group that skied a road to a ski-hut shelter, then through the woods to Midnight Lake in the Diamond Peak Wilderness Area, which was so thick with snow and ice that three or four in the group skied across it while the rest of us stood or sat in the snow for lunch. The ski back to the cars was tricky, on narrow, icy downhill trails, or sluggish, through heavy wet snow, and by the end of the day we were skiing in what only the most optimistic person could call snow. The rest of us called it rain. By the time we got to the lodge, we were soaked.

            In contrast to the bedraggled wet skiers of my group, the skiers who had chosen an easier route, at Willamette Pass Nordic Center, had come back ecstatic. "The best ski ever!" Dani crowed. The snow had been fabulous. The skiers in my group looked at each other sheepishly. The next day we would choose the Nordic Center.

            But all that night I could hear rain falling and melted snow pouring off the roof. The next morning there was more endless talk about the weather, but in the end everyone decided to go to the higher elevation at Willamette Pass and see what the snow was like there. Behold, there it was snowing, not raining. I skied with eight or nine other skiers, up and up, on a wide, groomed trail. At one turn in the trail, all but four in the group turned around and skied back to the lodge. I followed the three others up and up and up, sometimes climbing steeply. My legs were tired, but anticipation of skiing back down the same slope was urging me on. At the top we stopped for lunch.

            And then the return.

            Oh, but it was glorious! Because we were on a groomed snowed-over road, I could ski in wide swoops, curving from side to side as I went down, making swallow-swoops in the snow. Or I could set my skis straight and fly down the hill to the next slope up. Down and down we went, then slightly up, step-gliding, then downhill again then step-gliding to the next free ride downhill. The whole thing ended with a very steep and somewhat icy hill to the parking lot, which I took with grace. 

            On the last morning only three of us opted for one last ski before heading home. We went back to Willamette Pass, where the snow wasn’t quite as good as it had been the day before, but it was still lovely, and the skiing was still great. We skied up to a plateau, where a dark sky set off the white snow and green evergreen trees with dramatic panache. Practicing my technique, I did some turns in excellent form.

            It was a fabulous weekend (let's not forget to mention the good food prepared by members of the club), and I was very pleased with myself. I skied for three days and never fell. I was skiing better day by day. Of course, as someone said to me once, on a day of perfect snow conditions, "Snow like that makes you think you can ski." And it’s a great feeling, although all I have to do is remember the awkwardness with which I skied the much more difficult downhill trail through the woods on the first day to bring myself back to reality. Still, I am getting better. And I do love to ski.