Yet another spring weekend has conspired against me. The weather for Saturday was adequate for spring skiing but hardly the banner blue bird on Sunday. I had plans for Sunday so I endured Saturday instead. It wasn’t horrible. But the cloudy skies never allowed for sunshine to soften the frozen groomer tracks on the lower mountain where groomers scraped the trail down to push snow towards the lift.

I awoke to torrential downpour at my house in central New Hampshire. But I trusted in the weather forecast and started driving north despite the rain. To hell with the rain, I was going to ski Jay once more before it closed even if it meant skiing in the rain.

But I arrived to cloudy skis without a rain drop in sight. The temperature was barely warm enough for short sleeve t-shirt skiing so I skipped the jacket despite the light breeze higher up the mountain. The sun never really came out but it was warm enough.

Jet and Haynes were the primary routes with an option for Montrealer to Wiggle to return to Stateside Lodge without walking back from the Jet. All routes were groomed flat with some sparse bump lines directly under the chair. The frozen groomer tracks on the lower Jet and Haynes made for terrible skiing. But without the groomer scrapping the snow off to push it down the mountain, the lift wouldn’t have run. So… fair trade off.

I burned out on Jet and Haynes after a run on each. The very top part of the Jet was actually really good and I was genuinely smiling a big grin while skiing it despite myself. I decided to start working the bumps under the lift which weren’t hard pack but could have used some sun. The lines were what I would define as “interesting”. Interesting can be epic when you are skiing well. Interesting can be a little frightening when you are not.

I skied some lines incredibly well, occasionally eliciting some cheers from above. But my fatigue would interrupt my good time. My legs were fried before I even finished my first lap. I fought back. “Fuck that shit.” It was good skiing, it was a party atmosphere, everyone else was having a downright righteous time. But after three groomer runs and a bump run, my legs were fried, I was sucking wind, and sinking into a fatigued and tired malaise. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’ve been asking that question for two years now. It just keeps getting worse.

I decided I was going to overcome whatever it was. I’d ski my legs off. I certainly wasn’t saving them for anything. So I ripped into that bump line again. I started off well enough. But about halfway down, I lost my rhythm. I didn’t weight a ski correctly, over corrected, weighted the ski all wrong, and then I got sent flying through the air in a direction I didn’t want to go. Up high, I heard a gasp; a cringed guffaw. I was in mid-air having flown off the back of a bump slightly off axis, and flying direction for a birch.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard the words “uh oh”. But while mid-air, I turned that part of my brain off. I saw the landing, hit it, and made the turn instinctually. But for the context, an easy landing and correction following an off balance turn that was more dramatic than it should have been. But the context was clear, I can’t count on my body to make the turns I need to ski the way I want to ski. I was done for the day.

Weather allowing, I’ll wrap up my lift serviced skiing next weekend at Killington. Weather and road conditions allowing, auto assisted East Snowfield turns will be happening by the end of the month. And then the punishment begins. June and July for sure. Perhaps there I can find some redemption, some reason, some fun. I refuse to sit out whatever has destroyed me. It may be a struggle, but I will not be denied. It will not take this away from me.