Peter Barnum
Toastmasters CC#4: Colorado Dreaming

The weather has really been going crazy recently.  I assume you've all 
heard of all that snow in Denver.  It must be really bad for anyone who 
wants to drive to work.  Well, maybe it's not all that bad; most of the 
people there have four-by-fours.  And I mean real four-by-fours, not 
SUVs.  Also, people actually know how to drive in the snow.  It's like 
those commercials where all these trucks are doing crazy stuff like 
scaling cliffs and going off ski jumps, except that even the people 
driving compacts are doing it.  In other words, they don't have anything 
they can't handle.

I'll tell you who has it good: the ski slope owners.  There's so much 
packed snow, people will be able to watch the Fourth of July fireworks in 
between moguls.  Skiing in Colorado isn't quite like the slope near 
here.  The bunny slope is three miles long. The first time I went skiing 
was on one of these slopes.  I was surprised at all the specialized 
clothing that you need to have.  A big warm coat, big gloves, goggles.  
By the time you're done, you feel like a marshmallow on runners.  
	
I went that time with my good friend Matt.  He's been skiing since he was 
about four, so I though he would be good company.  The slope he chose was 
really classy.  Instead of sitting on a little bench on the lift, they 
had these Cinderella-style coach cars, with room for four.  

We found an empty one, and hopped in with this other man.  He mentioned 
to us that he was out enjoying his retirement after twenty-five years in 
the army.  Now, in the US army, that's a really long time, and he was 
probably a general by the time he quit.  The general told us about skiing 
in the old days, finding your own way down the mountain.  It was a time 
before they had all these nice slopes planned out and set up, and you had 
to watch out for pits that could snap your leg if you got caught.  

Matt had a few stories of his own to share, but all I could say was that 
I'd never been up.  The general looked at us for a second, then laughed.  
"He's taking you on this slope?  I think you should kill him."  My shock 
must have shown, because he laughed again.  To his partial credit, Matt 
had to courtesy to look a little sheepish.  

The rest of the trip up was filled with small-talk, but my mind was 
elsewhere.  Mostly, it was at the bottom of the hill, yelling for my body 
to just take the lift back down.

But instead, I somehow ended up at the top.  The bottom was enshrouded in 
a cloud, but I could see at least a mile of white expanse.  Well, it was 
time to get started.  Matt gave me a few last minute tips, I set my skis 
in a wedge, pushed off, and immediately flipped out of my skis and landed 
face first in the snow.  

Skis are designed to fall off under pressure, to prevent a broken leg if 
they get stuck.  Unfortunately, mine were on the "catapult you out if you 
touch a pebble" setting.  I tried again, same result.  In five minutes, 
we had gotten about twenty feet.  We had to trudge back up the hill and 
tighten my skis.  This was great, I finally got the guts to get started, 
and now I have to walk back and start again.  Starting the second time 
was even worse.  I was equally inexperienced, but no longer had a cloak 
of ignorance to stop my knees from shaking.  I knew exactly what was 
going to happen.  
  
But again, I swallowed my fear and set off.  Very slowly.  Two feet, then 
digging my poles into the snow.  And again.  And again.  I hadn't even 
gotten to where I was the first time, and already my shoulders were 
aching.  Matt amused me by skiing backwards while I panted.  I probably 
would have strangled him if I was willing to let go of one of my poles.  
I'll say one thing though, he stuck around the whole way, long after my 
falling was funny anymore.  
	
After a time, the way ahead was clear, and I felt confident enough to let 
up on the poles a little, and promptly shot down the slope, passing 
everybody in a blur.  The slope was fairly wide, so it was fine for a 
time.  Unfortunately, I wasn't heading straight down, but at a bit of an 
angle.  We had covered steering theory, but it turned out to be a bit 
more complex in practice.  And the trees were coming up fast.  Thanks to 
aikido, I knew how to fall, so I took a planned dive into a snow pile at 
the edge of a cliff.  Matt caught up with me in a minute and helped me 
get up.  Unfortunately, the skis kept turning back to the trees, and I 
spend quite a lot of time on the ground.  
	
The rest of the trip down is a bit blurred in my memory, but three hours 
later, I careened into a wall and hugged a tree that was no longer coming 
at me at twenty miles an hour.  Actually, by the end, I was doing pretty 
well.  The last mile only took about fifteen minutes, and if I wasn't 
completely exhausted by that point, maybe I would have done even better.  
As it was, Matt went back up the lift to ski and bit more, and I went 
back to the lodge and fell asleep.   
	
All in all, it was a fun trip.  It was certainly a challenge, but it is 
exciting and invigorating to barrel out of control down a snowy slide.  I 
would even like to go again sometime, but maybe on an easier slope and it 
might be worth it to have a few lessons this time.