Oh, right, so we actually were in Niseko to ski... even though my posts may indicate the contrary. Michael has switched to snowboarding because he has terrible ankles and has destroyed every conceivable centimeter of cartilage in his joints (thank you, college athletics). I am exaggerating, but not by much.
However, hate him as you must, he has managed to pick up snowboarding in less than one season and on this trip has become very adept at going downhill with both feet strapped to one board. Briefly for a moment in time we were perhaps on the same skill level with me on skis and him on a board, but that moment flew by on this trip.
We arrived in Niseko to a huge snow storm, a first in a couple of weeks, so we were very lucky to arrive to a fresh layer of powder. But then in the middle of the week we faced a huge thaw and were dismayed as each day more and more of the snow turned into slush or froze into ice. On Thursday we thought all of our dreams were dashed because it rained nonstop, leading to what felt like spring. But then Niseko came back strong, dumping a nonstop blizzard from Friday morning throughout the days and nights until our departure on Sunday. In fact, I found myself wishing we were staying through the weekend because the powder just looked amazing!
I had only skiied once last year, and please keep in mind this was when I was still breastfeeding so I was waking up every 3 hours in the middle of the night as well as trying to pump in the parking lot.
This year, things were so much easier without having to work all of those logistics into my schedule. I managed to ski twice, enjoying a companionable silence with Michael as we boarded various chair lifts and gondolas around the resort.
Unfortunately I was terrible at meeting up with my other friends, never managing to get up early enough to hit the slopes with them. And doubly unfortunately, I really was not improving at skiing. My first day on the slopes (Sunday) I skittered uneasily down a bunch of runs feeling a bit out of control. My second day on the slopes (Friday) I got a late start because I had to work and get a bunch of things out in the morning, which stressed me out a ton. That was all fine and I actually found my edges and was doing a good job getting down the mountain despite some fierce conditions (blinding snow storms, howling winds, very reduced visibility), until Michael convinced me to go to the top of the mountain and take a more challenging run down to cross over to the Hanozono side.
It would have all been fine except for how steep the mountain was and how dreadfully icy it was. There was a particular part where the slope just dropped away and I did not know how I was going to make it down in one piece. He finally suggested I take off my skis and walk down to him. I couldn't hear him and, in a fit of stupidity, gathered my skis, poles, and started sliding on my belly toward him. Well! Once you start sliding on a nearly 40 degree icy pitch, you're a goner! I couldn't figure out how to stop and I started howling with increasing panic as I gathered speed. I was moving so quickly that, as illogical as this sounds, I really felt like I was going to fly off the mountain - like into orbit or something. That's how it felt.
Thank goodness Michael was there to catch me. We slid together for a bit and then stopped. He still has a huge black and blue and purple imprint on his calf from where my ski boot slammed into him. Ooops. At that point we had gotten past the worst of the steepness and could cut across the mountain to access another still very steep but more accessible run. We cut through the trees and the powder and then I made it down the entire mountain without any issue. Finishing, Michael turned to me and mused, "wouldn't it have been easier just to go down that part of the mountain the way you're supposed to?" Touche, husband, touche. I'm just glad I did not die. There was a strand of birch trees that would have stopped me but I really hate to think of how that would have felt on impact...
Next time, I think I should take a refresher course before I tackle some of the steepest slopes on the mountain.
However, hate him as you must, he has managed to pick up snowboarding in less than one season and on this trip has become very adept at going downhill with both feet strapped to one board. Briefly for a moment in time we were perhaps on the same skill level with me on skis and him on a board, but that moment flew by on this trip.
We arrived in Niseko to a huge snow storm, a first in a couple of weeks, so we were very lucky to arrive to a fresh layer of powder. But then in the middle of the week we faced a huge thaw and were dismayed as each day more and more of the snow turned into slush or froze into ice. On Thursday we thought all of our dreams were dashed because it rained nonstop, leading to what felt like spring. But then Niseko came back strong, dumping a nonstop blizzard from Friday morning throughout the days and nights until our departure on Sunday. In fact, I found myself wishing we were staying through the weekend because the powder just looked amazing!
I had only skiied once last year, and please keep in mind this was when I was still breastfeeding so I was waking up every 3 hours in the middle of the night as well as trying to pump in the parking lot.
This year, things were so much easier without having to work all of those logistics into my schedule. I managed to ski twice, enjoying a companionable silence with Michael as we boarded various chair lifts and gondolas around the resort.
Unfortunately I was terrible at meeting up with my other friends, never managing to get up early enough to hit the slopes with them. And doubly unfortunately, I really was not improving at skiing. My first day on the slopes (Sunday) I skittered uneasily down a bunch of runs feeling a bit out of control. My second day on the slopes (Friday) I got a late start because I had to work and get a bunch of things out in the morning, which stressed me out a ton. That was all fine and I actually found my edges and was doing a good job getting down the mountain despite some fierce conditions (blinding snow storms, howling winds, very reduced visibility), until Michael convinced me to go to the top of the mountain and take a more challenging run down to cross over to the Hanozono side.
It would have all been fine except for how steep the mountain was and how dreadfully icy it was. There was a particular part where the slope just dropped away and I did not know how I was going to make it down in one piece. He finally suggested I take off my skis and walk down to him. I couldn't hear him and, in a fit of stupidity, gathered my skis, poles, and started sliding on my belly toward him. Well! Once you start sliding on a nearly 40 degree icy pitch, you're a goner! I couldn't figure out how to stop and I started howling with increasing panic as I gathered speed. I was moving so quickly that, as illogical as this sounds, I really felt like I was going to fly off the mountain - like into orbit or something. That's how it felt.
Thank goodness Michael was there to catch me. We slid together for a bit and then stopped. He still has a huge black and blue and purple imprint on his calf from where my ski boot slammed into him. Ooops. At that point we had gotten past the worst of the steepness and could cut across the mountain to access another still very steep but more accessible run. We cut through the trees and the powder and then I made it down the entire mountain without any issue. Finishing, Michael turned to me and mused, "wouldn't it have been easier just to go down that part of the mountain the way you're supposed to?" Touche, husband, touche. I'm just glad I did not die. There was a strand of birch trees that would have stopped me but I really hate to think of how that would have felt on impact...
Next time, I think I should take a refresher course before I tackle some of the steepest slopes on the mountain.
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