We went to the mountains today, despite my continued abdominal distress. Hey, nothing should get in the way of hanging out with your son, right? That’s what I think too.
I rented some shaped skis for the first time (my Rossignols were created in the 80’s and have performed well for years, but there’s a time and place for new technology). The guy in the shop asked what length skis I wanted and his jaw dropped when I told him that I normally ski on 195s. Apparently, the new styles don’t even come in that length and even the 6’3″ guys are given 180s. I was beginning to feel awfully “Old School” (emphasis on “Old”), but he sounded impressed when he said “I guess you really know your way around a pair of skis.” It was a badge of honor back in the day when I could handle 195s comfortably. But times, they change. I accepted my 170s from him and had a blast on the slopes. They do essentially carve the turn for you, although I noticed that a hard stop is not as easy with the radical sidecuts.
The Stewball did a great job cruising the blue runs. This is only his second time up this season (and I think only his 3rd time ever?), and I was impressed.
We tossed verbal jabs at each other (playfully, of course) throughout the evening and had a great time, just the two of us. Weather was most cooperative in terms of sunshine and lack of precipitation. Slopes were a little icy, but not bad.
While I remain doubtful that we shall ever reach agreement on which sport is better, I do know that S2B has found a use for skiers. On the flat spots, Mama extended a ski pole to Stewb and, with her ‘skier skating ability’, served as a most acceptable taxi service across those pesky plateaus.