The Joy of Skiing

December 1992:

"Oh my God! This is so cool!" I holler to my adorable Billy boy.

"What?" he hollers back.

"This is awesome!" I cry with joy. The feeling of total freedom flows through me! I'm astonished at how unhindered I can move through the tracks of snow my lovable husband is creating just for me!

"You like it, eh?" I hear him say above the jingle of bells he attached to his poles earlier this day.

"I do, I do!" I insist, feeling the ground sliding beneath the telemark skis strapped to my feet.

Splat.

"Ouch!" I yell, laughing at the face full of snow now covering my head.

"Whoops! Sorry!" Bill calls. "You okay?"

I brush off the flecks of evergreen speckling my cheeks. Still laughing I say, "That's one way to get me to wash my face."

Chuckling, Bill stops and apologizes. "I forget those branches snap back when I push through them. I'll be more careful. They can really sting!"

"I'll vouch for that!" I agree, pulling some tissues from my pocket to wipe the excess snow off my chin.

"Ready to keep going?"

"Yeppers!"

"Okay, now there's that big hill we have to get up. The best way is to turn sideways and sidestep up."

"Okay," I say, a bit hesitant as I have no experience climbing the big Groscap hill on skis. It's hard enough with no snow.

With great effort, we eventually make it up the hill. I continue following Bill across the top of the bluffs of the Canadian Shield that runs along the North Shore of Lake Superior.

"Hey, can we stop a minute?" I call.

"You tired already?" Bill teases.

"I'm just really hot." I explain. "I gotta unzip my jacket and take this hat off."

"Be careful!" he warns. "Even though ya work up a sweat, doesn't mean the air ain't still close to zero. Let's just rest a bit and listen to the sounds of nature while you cool down."

I hear Bill's bells approach. The glide of his skis is barely audible as they are cushioned by nature's fluffy comforter. I can feel his presence as he stands a ski length away. Together we listen. The frozen lake and blanket of snow that ices this wilderness for miles create a deafening silence that is louder than the unforgiving waves that pound the shoreline in summer. For a moment, I'm certain we are the only living beings on the Earth. I search my mind for words to describe this awesome void of nothing, yet filled with everything.

"Ain't it amazing?" Bill whispers.

"Beautiful!" I agree in a voice matching his. I feel our hearts touch and fill with joy. I am now certain I know freedom.

January 2023:

"This is amazing!" I hear the voice of the young man from Texas.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Roger, the ski guide says.

"I've never felt snow before," the first voice says.

"Well, take off your skis and I'll let you really feel it." Roger offers.

I'm smiling as I witness a multitude of first-time cross-country skiers experience the joy of moving freely through the snow. All of us are either visually impaired or totally blind. About 20% of the 120 Ski for Light participants are first timers, many from areas that never get snow.

"Oh my god!" the Texas skier yells. "I didn't know snow could go up to ya'll's waist!"

Roger and I are laughing. I'm gathering Roger guided the Texan into the off-track banks.

For 8 days, I emerge myself in the comfort of a world that is totally set up for blind cross-country skiers. Snow Mountain Ranch is huge, with multiple lodges, mess hall, pool, tubing hills, and miles of groomed ski trails. Shuttle busses loop through the grounds at frequent intervals. For those who prefer walking, all paths are equipped with audible directional signals.

There is a sighted guide for each visually impaired person, or VIP, for short. They have all been instructed in how to guide both on and off skis. The Snow Mountain Ranch staff have also been educated in how to assist VIPs, so there is no condescending or do-gooder energy in this arena of full acceptance.

"So, where you from?" I ask the person I hear sitting down across from me. Some of us are taking a break from skiing to eat lunch.

"I'm from Denmark."

"Awesome! I visited Copenhagen a long time ago."

"Ya, I live near there," my new friend tells me.

He is one of several skiers from other countries. Along with Denmark, skiers hale from Canada, The U. K., and Norway. Thirty-nine states are represented and include Florida, Kansas, New Mexico, the Carolina's, Virginia, and of course, Texas-- places where snow rarely, if ever, touches the ground.

"You wanna try the 5 K yet , Geri?" Gary, my sighted guide asks. Gary is from my home state of Michigan. As my assigned guide, we've spent a lot of time together this week. At 75, he's 4 years older than I am and is fit as ever.

"Oh, I wish I could, but the 2.5 K is about the best I can do for now."

"That's fine. You just look so comfortable on skis and you're beating your time from yesterday." Gary tells me.

"Actually, I'm feeling so happy I can do this much. It's a little disconcerting when I think of the crazy all-day skiing I did years ago, but until I get that surgery on my back, my leg starts to go numb at about 2 K. and I don't want to push it too hard." I explain.

"I get it." Gary assures me. "You're doing good for skiing with a numb leg."

"What a drag it is getting' old." I sing, mocking my declining body.

"Hey, Charlie!" Gary calls as we slide out of the tracks and onto the area in front of the ski lodge where we store our skis during the week.

"It's Gary." My guide tells Charlie.

"Oh, Gary, Hi."

"Hi Charlie," I say, "I'm Geri, Gary's charge."

"Oh, hi Geri."

"How's the skiing?" Gary asks Charlie.

"Oh, it's okay, but I wish I could do the 10 K. All I seem to be able to do is the 1.5 K."

"I hear ya." I say to Charlie. "I was just telling Gary how I use to be able to ski all day and now I'm only able to do the 2.5 K."

"I know." Charlie says a sadness in his voice.

"Charlie!" Gary says a hint of scolding in his voice. "If I can stand up when I'm your age, let alone ski, I'll be darn lucky!"

"I guess so," Charlie says.

"So how old are you now Charlie?" Gary asks.

"I'll be 102 in March."

"Holy ta-moley!" I exclaim. "You're almost 102 and you're skiing? That's amazing."

"Ya, I guess so." Charlie says, sounding very unimpressed.

It's the last evening of the 8-day event. The awards banquet has begun. The winners of the 10 K race are announced. The fastest skier completed the run in 48 minutes. Other awards are given for various achievements, with Charlie receiving the most committed skier award. Everyone cheers long and hard for this amazing man who radiates love for skiing, for fellowship, and for commitment to life: He humbly receives his award, thanking Ski for Light for creating such an amazing event.

As I sit amongst my blind and sighted companions, I feel tears rolling down my face. My heart is swelling with joy for the camaraderie we share. just as I'd known 31 years ago on the top of the Groscap Bluffs, I know I am always home as long as I feel love, joy, and freedom within my heart. Old sayings are often true. Home is definitely where the heart is!