but i love skiing

unclicking, i was free of my skis.
watching the blowing snow cover them,
i leaned to the hardpack
and grabbed'em,
brought them higher,
slipping them together
base to base as i did so.
the bindings met and held, sort of,
as i carefully placed them over my left shoulder
in preparation for the 45 minute hike
to the summit of Imperial Peak, sitting
at about 13,000 feet.
i looked down valley, seeing route 9 leaving
the mining town of Breckenridge, CO,
slipping towards Frisco, past Lake Dillon
and the turn-off to Keystone and A-Basin.
up valley, i knew Blue River was past Peak 10,
near Quandry, that beautiful 14er i climbed.
Baldy was directly across, impassive.
Steep. Cold. Exciting.
the trail higher was a vertical series of ice holes
previous skiiers had smashed into the
mountain, each step above the previous one.
hiking at altitude can cause problems because
of the thin air and it certainly felt thin, if by that is meant
that it's hard to find complete satisfaction with an
inhalation. as I struggled, my body working, i needed,
indeed demanded, fuel, oxygen. breathing came in short
snappy movements as I kept ascending. i would stop
more frequently than anticipated, every few steps.
but it was cold, so moving was essential. i was passed
by other people more accustomed to the climb. i also passed
people who were resting. we were all traveling according
to our own timer, not racing: we were participating.
my skis became heavy. i changed them from shoulder to
shoulder, trying to accomodate their apparent increasing
weight. occasionally, i'd glance at the top, where the
small figures could be seen. it always seemed so far,
as though i hadn't really made much progress.
damn! i wanted to get there. and it was cold
and my skis were so heavy and each shoulder
was sore and i couldn't breathe properly.
but i love skiing.