Crested Butte - first touch

In just over a week, we'll be making a trip with our church group to Crested Butte, CO to go skiing and frolicking in the snow. For me, this trip marks the 2nd time I've returned since learning to snow here in 1981. While the bus rides to and from are tiring, the fun to be had there makes it all worthwhile. The "Butte" holds many fond memories and is a rich source of fanciful tales.

On my very first trip, I had the misfortune to be taken up on the mountain by an experienced skier who was going to save me from "ski school" and teach me the "right way". Unfortunately for both of us, on our first ascent up the mountain he forgot to raise the tips of his skis and fell on his face attemping to disembark from the ski lift chair. Although he tried to move out of the way, with no experience on the slopes, it was not in my power to avoid skiing up his face leaving him a 2 inch laceration on his cheek as a souvenir of our first ski lesson. My ski lesson continued by waiting for him to complete the accident forms then watching as the ski patrol put him back on the ski lift to ride back to the bottom of the slope -- without me. And there it was, the bleak reality that my first ski lesson would be a solo flight down the mountain side. To be blunt, the trip down the mountain was not a pleasant one. It ended about halfway down the mountain with me staring skyward with a twisted knee, broken pole, wounded spirits, and serious questions about my sanity. It wasn't very long before some kindly folks stopped to inform me the way to attract the ski patrol was to cross my skis over my body. This signal would let them know I was hurt. That was a handy bit of information I'd have enjoyed knowing a bit sooner. It wasn't long before the ski patrol stopped by, strapped my into the evacuation sled, and carried me to the bottom.

With nothing to show as a success, it was an inglorious end to a day rife with frustration and pain. Although day 2 was spent nursing the sore knee and contemplating the warmth of the fire, there was something magnetic about the slopes -- it could be done, people could ski -- I'd seen them and I would not be denied.

What was that they were saying about a "bunny slope"?