Sunrise doesn't last all morning
A cloudburst doesn't last all day…
George Harrison croons through the interior of my beloved blue chevy bolt as it transports me 20 minutes and a world away from the never ending to-do list of life. It’s been snowing for days, the air uncharacteristically cold and crisp for this coastal rainforest.
It’s before 9 AM on the first day of the weekend and already two football field long lines of vehicles form a gauntlet in the parking lot. Friends and neighbors are balancing on one foot by their cars and trucks, cramming summer feet into winter ski and snowboard boots. Streams of people, shouldering skis and carrying boards, amble up to the lodge and a long line at the ticket window to winter paradise.
This is opening day at our community ski area, Eaglecrest, and this pack of snow riders and sliders in Juneau, Alaska is eager to get back on the hill and the perfect pandemic sport. The one where you are simultaneously with your friends and alone, moving through gravity, floating though a gazillion flakes of frozen crystallized water.
My ski buddy for the morning Malou and I meet at our agreed upon spot by the caretaker cabin. Soon we are on the chairlift, the top of the mountain obscured by a dense fog, riders ahead dissipating from sight. ‘We’re on the chair way to heaven,” I quip.
On the ride down our skis turn with ease, like riding atop light whipped cream, up and over mounds of snowy bliss. As the slope flattens we shoot down to the base of the chairlift and a long line of fellow winter fun seekers wanting nothing more than to do it again.
The thing is, what we experienced will never happen just like that ever again. That awareness makes it even more special. In the lift line, high fives abound, eyes gleaming with gratitude, incredulous that it feels like Vail in Juneau. For this moment.
The amenability of the snow surface for skiing or snowboarding hinges on the temperature of the air. The lower the temperature, the higher the snow quality. And this morning’s temperature, under 20 degrees Fahrenheit, is rather rare for this corner of the planet.
After a generation living here, I’m convinced the people who stay absolutely thrive on this rollercoaster of rain or sun in the summer, powder light or heavy and wet snow in winter.
All things must pass
All things must pass away
The words of the late Beatle from my ride up ring in my head. Next weekend it could be 35 degrees and raining.
I have been practicing "ski waltzing" (which I believe was one of your Dad's teaching tools) that you shared with me last season. I have learned many things through skiing. Live, Love, Ski =)<3
HI Katie, Love your writing, your music, your incredible self. Much JOY! Carol