At last, I get it. Sort of.

One more go 'round in the ongoing saga of me trying to learn how to ski. To recap my skiing experience so far, my first group lesson turned out to be a private lesson, see the article below. A second group lesson was on an icy slope, and ended in my being carted off the mountain by the ski patrol toboggan. I had one happy day of practice at the Okemo Jackson Gore beginners slope. All five grandkids were skiiing with me. The sun was shining, the snow was crisp with just enough friction. Though terrified every minute, I did manage to get down the slope a number of times, with no falling. And I enjoyed the company.

Then, on a day when the snow conditions were very fast and the slope crowded, I began a ski afternoon with Molly and Sylvia, ages 16 and 12. They took off on the lifts, while I stuck to the 'magic carpet'. One out of control wild swift slide down the mountain, where I used the tall sign at the ski lift to stop my flight and bring me off my skis, was enough. I took off the skis and relaxed on terra firma, sipping hot cocoa while the girls enjoyed their runs.

Thinking that perhaps the third time is the charm, I booked one more group lesson. I woke up feeling good. This would be it, I thought. After all, I had actually managed the afternoon at Jackson Gore without falling. It is possible.

The ski instructors at Okemo deserve enormous credit. Of course, they are skilled skiers. But more than that, they have a great attitude, and seemingly infinite patience and good humor. This time my instructor was Tom. An interesting old codger, a backwoodsman. His was an interesting story which I will save for another telling. The group was five ladies, mixed ages including some teens.

And I got it! By the end of the two hours, I was relaxed in my skis, enjoying the view of the distant mountains. The weather had been good, warm without sunshine. Just before the end of the lesson, an expected snow storm began. Oh! How beautiful. A misty veil enshrowded the distant vista that I had been enjoying. Big flakes were falling. It was a delight to ski through them. Then the lesson was over, and it was time to deal with snow on the roads and the long drive home.

The last time I took Molly and Sylvia, on the drive home Molly was almost obnoxious with her exuberant exaltation on how much fun, how very wonderful the afternoon was. How great is skiing, how very much fun. Sylvia sat in the back seat feeling the same but not able to get a word in. At the time, I thought it was a bit much. But now I have changed my mind.

It was great. It was wonderful. It was so very much fun to glide down the slope making lazy S turns, bobbing around the little kids and their instructors, dodging the snowboard riders in their clusters. In control. No more terror when shifting turns, no fear of getting stuck in the middle of a turn and hurtling down the slope out of control. I now know that I can make controlled turns, go faster, go slower, and stop at will. Wow.

OK, so I'm not quite ready for a lift. One more afternoon of confidence-building at the Jackson Gore beginner slope, perhaps with a different surface condition. But I am already studying the trail map, plotting the Big Adventure when I actually get on the lift with the grandkids and take the loooonnnngggg ski down.

Skiing is fun.