The Monster on the Mountain...

Oh wait that's me.  

Well, we knew it couldn't last didn't we.  It was bound to happen.  I'd get into a situation that would push me over the edge.  

Unfortunately it happened Thursday.  Unfortunately it happened on the day I skied better than I ever had. Unfortunately ski patrol showed up.  Unfortunately the more people watching me, the more people helping me, the more pressure I feel and the harder I freeze.  Unfortunately this left me feeling angry, and ashamed.

I am still so ashamed.

Which is very unfortunate because I went down my first Black Diamond trail!

I should be proud.

But no.. wait, there was that hysterical crying jag first.  There was the ski lesson, with the one eyed man, the other students who all did fine.  It doesn't matter that I'm a better skier, they always do better.  I didn't love this instructor, who did remind me of a friendly pirate, with his eye patch.  He talked too much about training for Giant Slalom.  

I always tell my instructors that I'm afraid of the steeps.  But mostly that just mean they keep me on Ralph's Run or Challenger, or Hitchcock.  I've been skiing down those three trails for two years... I need new trails.  So sure I decided this time I wasn't going to tell my teacher anything about the way I ski.  Okay maybe that was a mistake.   Maybe I should warn more people of my fear, no make that terror of the slopes before I actually become... "The Terror of the Slopes"

Anyway, we went down Ralph's Run, great, great, everyone did well, we went down Challenger, great, great, and then we went to summit.  I asked if we were going down Conifer.  No, he was thinking of Smith Walton. 

It couldn't get any better than that!  I was telling myself earlier that day that this would be the day I take on Smith Walton.  I had stared up Smith Walton earlier and it looked steep.  It looked really steep.  It looked so steep that it might kill me.  It looked down on my with it's steep cold gaze and l look back up at it and thought, maybe today.  And here was a teacher willing to take us down it!

And it started off great!  We started going down, it's pretty flat at the top.  We got to the pitch and I looked over.  It was steep, it was really steep but I was okay.  We started down, I was skiing great, I was at the end of the line of our skiers and.... Maria the girl in front of me wiped  out.

I don't do well when people fall.  I don't like it.  It makes me feel my mortality.  It makes me realize that but for the grace of god that could be me.  Which isn't actually true.  I can ski, I don't usually fall, I have to believe that's some of my ability, not just luck.  But she fell and on this dizzyingly steep slope...  I... could... hardly... breath.

She skidded down the hill about 30 feet leaving a ski about 15 feet above her.   I stopped horrified.  I saw her ski and thought I should help so I went to get the ski and froze.  I just froze.  I knew I couldn't carry the ski on this steep.  I wondered if I could push it down....  but I was frozen, the snow in front of me was the bad snow.   I couldn't make a turn there.   I was frozen.  

Now if you've ever skied with me you might know about my very peculiar fear of "bad snow".  What is "bad snow"? I can't even begin to tell you, it's hard to define.  It's like art or pornography, my best definition is the least satisfying... you know it when you see it.  And like art or pornography not everyone can see the same "bad snow" that I see.

I watched Maria getting up, she had a little trouble but just then ski patrol came down.  He helped her with her skis and I just stood there trembling with fear.  I couldn't move.  And knowing that the class was waiting for me was adding pressure.  Maria took a moment to point me out to ski patrol.  Which added pressure.  At this point I'm at my mental breaking point.

Ski patrol walked back up to me.  I was frozen.  I could not move, and it was fear and pressure holding me in trembling stillness.

I should never have have stopped.  I had been fine.  I knew that if Maria hadn't fallen I would have followed all the way down.  But I was stuck now staring at the bad snow.

Ski patrol was friendly, very buddy buddy.  He asks me name, but I couldn't talk I was too busy trembling and crying.  He asked me my name again.  Good lord I didn't want him to know my name.  I'm embarrassed enough! But I thought I should tell him my name. It took me three tries before I finally  spit it out.  He asked me if this was my first time at Wachusett.

And here's where it get's bad.  

I know that they couldn't possibly believe me about this.  I know that within their rules and bylaws they, my instructor and ski patrol couldn't have left me there.  But honest to god, what I really needed, was to be left alone for 5 minutes so I could get a grip in my own time and make a couple of ugly wedge turns down the mountain and be on my way.  I know they couldn't do that.  But by golly it's what I really needed. 

So when he asked me if was my first time at Wachusett...  I suddenly was not only terrified but angry. I felt trapped, in this situation,  like a small but vicious animal with it's foot in a snare.  I felt like he'd better be careful because I would bite him in the face.  Not only to hurt him but to maim him.  I would bight him in the face. I know he's trying to be help me but I could feel a lecture coming on, like you don't belong on this trail.  What were you thinking coming down this trail.

Yeah, well no shit!  I am frozen in place and in hysterics.  I am guessing this isn't my trail.

I managed to bite out  "I come here all the time!  I never ski outside of my skill level.  I am in a class."   And I ratted out out my teacher at the bottom of the steep pointing angrily.  He asked me to side slip towards him.  I slashed out with my claws and maimed him!  No I didn't nor did I side slip towards him.  I walked me skies down to him.  Because I was too scared to side slip.

I know it would have been irresponsible for him to leave me but I needed the pressure to alleviate.  I needed people not to be staring, not to have expectations. I needed space,  he was right next to me.  I felt panicky, I wanted to ski forward and make a turn.  He was too close.  I didn't like it.   I begged him to leave.  He couldn't leave me there, but he was too close for me to move.

A pair of beginners began some ugly wedge turns down the steep.  I cringed.  The last thing I wanted to see was some other people getting hurt on this slope.  One of the girls snowplowed her way across the trail and stopped at the edge leaving herself no room to turn.  This was my old classic folly.  I used to do it all the time.  And then there was her friend who was trying to ski down sitting on her skies like a sled.  Ski Patrol had to rush off to deal with them.  My instructor hiked up to deal with me.

Again, I begged him to just leave me there. I could do it.  I would.  No that wasn't an option.  He was desperate to get me down.  He told me to side slip.  I burst out with a "No I've never been comfortable with that"  which partially true.  I'd never been great at side slipping.  

In frustration he answered "You should have told me that before!"  I sniffed and gave him a changing look.  "No, you shouldn't have." he amended.  

I wouldn't side slip.  I was dug in at this point.  I was embarrassed, ashamed, scared,  crying, shaking, stubbornly dug in.  It wasn't pretty, and I was a monster.  He wanted me take my poles from me.  I've never skied without poles...  I wasn't taught that way.  I grabbed my poles back angrily, no those are my poles.  I glared.  

"Okay okay, grab onto my poles" he said. I did.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I'm going to lead you down" he answered.

"No, too scary." I said matter of factly as I let go.  I've never been lead on a trail, and I sure as hell wasn't going to learn that lesson on the steepest slope on the mountain.  He moved his skis closer to me and I backed up unevenly.  I slid a little and fell to my side gently.  

"Fine, lets turn you around"  

This was a good idea.  I would have my back to the "bad snow" I would see good snow.  But because my instructor was trying physically help me I was getting more tense and upset.  I need to be in control on my skis.  I have a really hard time relinquishing that control and his physical manipulations where throwing me off.  After a struggle with my tight hips and the steep slope and me sliding when I turn I was facing the other side.  

He wanted to brace my skis with his so I could stand up.  But I wasn't comfortable with that.  Again he would be in control of my skis, using his, and I couldn't live with that.  I needed to be in control.  My control would get me down the slope.  He could not do that for me.  And I glared at him and moved my skis away from his.  He moved my ski to be going a little more uphill, I moved it back and sniffed and glared again.  I pushed off the side of the hill and stood up, I looked at him, He started telling me something, what to do, but I looked ahead, leaned forward and skied off.  I made one wedge turned, and three skidded parallel turns to the group.  I heard my instruction calling out encouragement.  Good girl!  Nice!  

But I was done with instruction.  I was done with Smith Walton.  I was done with my foray into the world of Black Diamonds.  My pride was bruised and battered.  I was worn out... I was done.

Maria in her kindness said "You did great" 

I snapped "I don't want to talk about it"  I had turned away from the group, to wipe my eyes and blow my nose.  The instructor came over and made another grab for my poles.  Again I glared at him furiously "What are you doing?" I blurted out pulling my poles out of his hands.

He looked confused, almost apologetic "I was just going to hold your poles for you so you could use both hands..."  He trailed off.  No doubt silenced by the death look I was giving him.  I was embarrassed and ashamed, and sad, and angry and hurt, but still proud somehow.  I still wanted what I had craved the entire time I was stuck up there.  I wanted to have moment alone without eyes on me to compose myself to wipe my tear and blow my nose in peace.  

"We'll go when you are ready" he said.

"I'm ready" I answered.  I wasn't ready, I really needed to blow my nose and take a few deep breaths, but I wouldn't have the group wait any more.  

"I want you behind me, if you are ready, if you are okay." he said.

"Fine, I'm fine" I said.

At the bottom of the first steep of Smith Walton, there is a second small steep, maybe steeper than the big steep.  I looked at it with a dismissive glance.  The instructor called out to make wedge turns.  But I remember thinking and possibly saying fuck that.  I skied parallel down the the small hill.  We stopped again.

Again my instructor told me he wanted me to follow him.  But I was done with all that.  I just wanted to ski down and be done with this once and for all.  So when he started  down I didn't so much follow.  I took off skiing with a fast angry messy style still in control always in control with harsh angry skidded turns speeding along and rushing my turns. It was all very alien to what he had seen me do before.  He yelled for me to round my turns, and I tried to a little.  But I didn't care I just wanted to get down the hill.  

At one point I wasn't sure when I was supposed to stop.  This would be because I had skied ahead of him.  He was trying to set a pace for us.  But I had passed him. If you've ever seen me ski that thought would shock you.  Because I ski very slowly normally.  I was so angry with myself for freezing that way, for getting so emotional, for being such a monster, for thinking "I will bite you in the face".  I skied with an angry determination.  Maria skied up next to me.  "I just stopped" I explained.  "I didn't know where we are supposed to stop."  I skied off again and the group followed.  

We got down to the connection by the little terrain park  and the instructor ushered us through.  "More familiar ground" he explained  

"I'm fine"  I said for what felt like the millionth time.

"Okay" he said.

We skied down to the waffle house.  And that's when things got really bad for me.  That when all of the emotion crept up.  The looks of pity form the group.  A group of skiers who don't ski as well as I do but handle their fear better.   And me emotionally wrecked hanging onto my shredded pride, and already looking back to the summit lift.  

"You all did great"  our instructor said "All of you" he looked at me, and my eyes welled up again.  "Don't think that I don't know how hard it was to do what you did"  I blew my nose, more tears because something made me believe that.  "I feel like I owe you something" he said to me.

"You don't owe me anything."  I said darkly.  The last thing I wanted right now was pity.  I wanted something all together different.  I wanted something that felt like a mixture of revenge and redemption.  This I wanted for myself. 

"I want to give you a lesson" he said "On me, this was my fault, I feel like I owe you a lesson."  I objected  but he handed me his card. "No I do, just call this number, tell them I said if was okay, we'll set up a lesson"  

Now I've been coveting a private lesson for ages.  I am desperately poor so a free lesson is a real temptation however I could get it.  But wait... that's not the end of the story.  

"Now going inside" he tells me "have something to drink, have some sugar. And call that number."  

So I didn't go inside and have a drink.  I decided what I needed more than hydration or sugar, was that mix of revenge/redemption.  I was going to go down Smith Walton again.  Right now.  Before I had time to reconsider.  While my blood still burned with all of those emotions.  

So I got in the lift line and made my way up to summit.  I talked to the people on the lift with me.  I asked if everybody was having fun today.  Oh yeah, how about you?  Couldn't be better I lied.  I figured I needed to be confident.  

I skied down to Smith Walton, and made my way to the steep.  I didn't even stop at the top, I just flowed over the edge make a couple of ugly turns before a settled into  slightly better turns and made my way all the way down.  I couldn't resist raising my arms triumphantly as I made my way back to the lift. I did it!  I knew I could do it.

And I went back up and I did it again.  Because I needed to to know that I could do it.  That I could have done it if she hadn't fallen, if I hadn't stopped.  This times my turns where better, not great, not even good but better.  That's the hardest trail on the mountain, so now I know I can ski down anything on the mountain.  

So that's how I became the Monster on the Mountain in all of it's horrific and gory detail.  And I'm left to debate whether to tell my next ski instructor that I have trouble on the steeps or not.  The good news is I went down my first black diamond trail!  The bad news is like every step of my skiing experience, there were tears and terror and hysteria.