…and a tale of adventure and bravery. (One that ended in a fall, tee-hee! Who said that? Not those squirrels again?)
Don’t listen to them, it’s not true. The fall, if it could even be called that – it was more of a graceful tumble or delicate descent – came at the midpoint of the trip, but it is fair to say it was the end of the outward leg. And the end of a fully functional left leg, but that happened later. Goodness, does this all sound mildly cryptic? No? Just confusing, then? Stick around if you want – it gets less exciting.
I thought I’d try an easy cross country ski trail, one with a trailhead a short walk from the cabin we were staying in. The trail runs along a flat (almost flat – I’ll get to that shortly) valley, one overlooked by the mighty Castle mountain in the Bow Valley. I’d been on this trail before, more than ten years ago, and I remembered it as a fairly gentle there and back again outing.
Once I’d found my steady plodding xc ski rhythm, the going was pretty good. I was upright, balanced, and making steady progress along the trail. I paused to allow one or two skiers on the return part of their outing to get by, nodding a greeting and agreeing on the perfect conditions. That was about right, given the cold but not too cold afternoon, and the very light snowfall – barely falling in truth, mostly flakes floating on a light breeze. “Why,” I thought to myself, “why hadn’t I been out here sooner this winter? I’ve clearly cracked this xc skiing lark at last!” With that, on I went, a happy and jolly super little skier.
After about 45 minutes of gentle skiing and gliding, it occurred to me that I’d have to turn around at some point, head back to base before it got dark or I got too tired. It’s when I’m tired on skis that I (very occasionally) fall over, and I didn’t want to get to that point. I slowed to a stop and started to turn around, carefully lifting one ski out of the tracks, then the other. Then I fell over.
“But I’m not even tired yet!” I thought to myself. Nearby squirrels laughed as I fumed silently, untangling my legs and pushing myself back to my feet. Other than the squirrels, there was no one around to witness this embarrassment, and I’m certainly not about to tell anyone, let me tell you.
Oh my, the long slog back! It turns out maybe I haven’t conquered xc skiing after all. And I haven’t got the same mighty legs I had ten years ago. Goodness, it was hard work. That 45 minutes of gentle gliding must have been more than an hour of very steep uphill return struggle. (Erm, if it was a gentle glide down, it can hardly have been a steep slope back, right OldPlaidCamper? What’s that? Have you been talking to those gossipy squirrels? Anyway, I’m not taking questions right now!)
The most important thing about it all was that I was a very brave boy and I didn’t complain for days and days after about my poor aching legs. Just the left one. And only for one or two days. Oh, ok – three!
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
OldPlaidCamper 