Stupid Moguls

It was a three hour drive. The roads were clear, no Sunday traffic, and the sun.. it was shining bright. Our destination, Wolf Creek Ski Area. I was hoping to learn how to snowboard, however, I was talked out of it. Convinced that if I tried to teach myself, I would have a miserable day on my butt and eating snow. I decided against the bruises and went with skiing, something I already have experience with. But did I mention that it's been three years since I last skied?

I will admit, I had more fun than I expected. The mountains have quiet a bit more thrill than Michigan hills :) We quickly began the exploration of bigger, better hills. Now, I'm not an expert skier. I'm still beginner. But I do enjoy the turns and steep hills. What I don't like... jumps and the mongul bumps. So during out exploration of trails, we avoided the moguls.

Our first run down the bigger hill (only a green level) we apparently took a wrong turn and veered off our destination. For we stopped at the edge of what looked like a steep drop off. Thankfully we found it didn't drop as steep as we thought. The reason being... it was a mogul field! The whole slope down was covered with mogul bumps, protruding through the snow. There was no alternative route and no way back. So off we went, attempting to conquer the moguls.

Now, normally, a skier would swivel their hips, jump back and forth, and use their poles to dart around the bumps. I however. I went slooooow. I attempted to use my poles, I attempted to swivel the hips. But let me tell you what. Hips, they don't swivel with snow pants. The attempt down the moguls. FAILED. I fell a total of four times. Graceful wipe-outs of course. When one leg protrudes left and the other twists backward. Graceful indeed.

This was of course not a one time deal. No, Kiley and I found ourselves hours later facing the same ordeal. This time, I went down with more hope, more confidence. Thirty seconds later, I realized it was a false confidence. For I picked up speed and wiped out, leaving myself in a such a predicament that I couldn't even get up. So, like most would, I snapped off my ski, so I could stand, reposition it, and the continue down the slope. That did not happen.
What did happen was the detaching of one ski, which immediately after release, escaped and slide down the slope.

Picture this. Me sitting on a snowy slope, surrounded by moguls. Flat on my butt, one leg stuck underneath me, ski attached, one leg straight out, ski-less. Then image twenty feet below me... the resting point of the missing ski.
Now, lets put this all in motion. Envision me attempting to retrieve my ski. Slowly, carefully, and tediously I slide down the hill.... on my butt.

Lastly, image yourself being the person at the top of the slope awaiting to go down it. Watching some idiot crab walk over bumps of snow. Humorous, I'm sure.

Other adventurous moments of the day included:
- Nate wiping out getting off the chair lift. Causing me to collide with a complete stranger and almost take him out.
- Having a ski stalker wait for us to go up the chair lift and attempt to squeeze on with us
- Nate falling on his butt off the ski life... again.
- Later having the ski stalker "randomly" find us on a hill
- Grabbing Mary Jo's butt in attempting to prevent her from running over me.