We've become obsessed with skiing. Thirty-five centimeters of snow today in the last 24 hours, 45 cm in the last 2 days and falling. Yet that didn't stop us from braving the mountain in -11 Centigrade (at the bottom of the hill).
Steve had signed up for a private ski lesson, so I was off on my own, exploring other trails. I did everything from green to black, though I avoided the trails through the trees. It was difficult enough to deal with the amount of snow on the slopes, and I didn't fancy joining the young psychotic ones through the insane territory. I'm still just warming up my ski legs and getting back into things. The ski lift I took this time was about twice as long as the beginner slopes, and packed a serious cross wind 3/4 of the way up. My goggles iced up from tiny snow pellets, to the point where I could barely see the slope.
Not surprising, then, that I ended up in another part of the mountain altogether. At a completely different ski lift. The trails are rather confusing even though there are signs everywhere. I kept looking for "Cowansville" and never managed to find it. Instead I followed "New York" to the east side of the mountain. I warmed myself (and my goggles) up with a small cup of coffee and braved my way to the top again. This time I found the right way down and did it once more before meeting up with Steve.
Lo and behold, he showed me that he passed the bronze ski level!! I'm so proud of him. Twice on the slope and already a bronze, well on his way to silver per the instructor. We promptly went up the mountain again to see his skills and enjoyed a newly groomed slope ... wonderful!
That's when my toes gave out and got too cold for comfort, so we headed back. The drive there and back was probably the most challenging part of the day. But I can't complain. After all, it's just wonderful to be outside, even if you get blasted by icy pellets. We've become veritable ski bunnies.