Finding myself between the trees

Growing up in Ohio, skiing was always one of my mom’s favorite activities to do with her family. As a kid, she would take our family up to Tahoe a few times a year to learn how to ski. While my sister and I enjoyed it, it certainly wasn’t my favorite thing to do. I would rather be at home reading a good book than risking injury in the bitter cold flying down a mountain at what feels like 100 mph. 

As we got older, my sister and I started to become better skiers. We learned how to use poles, how to navigate icy or muddy patches, and eventually, how to ski black diamonds. (My first diamond was somewhat unintentional; we just misread the sign.) 

Eventually, my family was comfortable enough on skis that my mom suggested we try skiing in the trees rather than on a slope. Skiing in a glade (or glade skiing, as my family calls it) is difficult not only for the obvious reasons of dodging trees and rocks, but also because the trees cast shadows on the snow for prolonged amounts of time and turn it to ice. Ice is a lot harder to turn on and a lot more slippery. More slippery is equivalent to more speed, the last thing you want when evading the bark of unforgiving trees. I was hesitant at first, but agreed. 

I was definitely very nervous to start out, but I soon relaxed into the skills I had developed over the years. I quickly learned that I enjoy glade skiing because it’s a place where I can challenge myself and still feel relatively safe. 

Being away from the trails makes it feel like it’s just me and my family in the whole world. The snow and trees somehow muffle the sound of other people passing, and you can just connect with nature for a moment. The snow beneath your skis is often untouched and glitters breathtakingly. I always feel tranquil and safe, despite the obvious sense of isolation. 

During one of my first ventures, however, I learned that glade skiing can sometimes be anything but safe when I passed through a shady spot and my skis couldn’t cut through the ice. I began to slide sideways down the mountain. Panicking, I threw myself upwards against the mountain to create more friction and managed to stop my slide. Shaken, I took a moment to collect myself. I stood up partially, carving my ski into the mountain, and began to continue diagonally. I passed through the icy section straight into a slight dip. There were trees to my left and in front of me, but only one to my right. I realized that if I didn’t manage to turn down at the bottom (in another icy patch, no less), I would ram straight into the trees. I turned hard, pushing into my right ski and just managing to avoid becoming a tree sandwich. 

I emerged from the cluster of trees victorious, adrenaline and pride pumping through my veins. Even something so small as knowing how to navigate skis on ice made me feel immensely accomplished, and I found myself enjoying skiing more than I ever thought I would.