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Experiences of (re)learning skiing.

Recently, my uncle proposed to go downhill skiing in Jasna, the largest ski resort in Slovakia. They have some 50 kilometers of slopes, promising proper excitement, so I didn't have to think before agreeing with the plan. However, I could count the total number of times I skied before on one hand, and the last time was around 10 years ago. That said, I didn't have a clue about what was to come.

Stage 1: No Idea

Since my last skiing, I had a few injuries, including a broken knee, so I wondered how I would hold up. And how will I survive the weather? Forecasts predicted 70kph (43mph) wind gusts and temperatures of -15°C (5°F). I've done hikes in such conditions, but skiing? Can you even generate warmth while just sliding down the hill? I was thinking. So at the parking lot, obscured by dense fog, I put on every layer I had, and off we went.

The first impressions were good. Ski resorts have improved greatly in 10 years: I remember having to scan a ticket every time I wanted to use the lift. Now, they give you a contactless card you leave in your pocket, and the gates scan it wirelessly. Impressive and comfortable. So was the journey in the gondola. But when we got up, I realized what I was to face.

Stage 2: Horror

It was snowing, the wind was sharp, and the visibility was low. We began on a blue-graded piste with trees on one side and a heavy-duty net protecting from a cliff on the other. Navigating between these was rather scary, as the skis worked well, generating speed instantly. It reminded me of when I jumped off a bridge attached to a bungee cord: You know that shouting is absolutely pointless, but at least at times, you cannot help but do it.

As the season just started, the blue piste we were on wasn't open all the way down, and we had to finish the descent on a red one — steeper; more shouting. Besides the grade, another terrifying aspect arrived every time more experienced skiers passed by. I was getting down at my pace, and suddenly I heard someone's skis cutting the snow behind me and had no clue from which side they were coming. All I tried was to be smooth, predictable, and not stop anywhere in the middle, trying to reduce the risks of someone smashing into me. I also learned that, yes, one does generate heat while "just sliding downhill." When I somehow managed to get down in one piece, I was warm as toast.

Two rides later, I felt much better, and my uncle told me, "You aren't a slave of your skis anymore." Looking back, I think that was still to happen, but I was happy to receive any encouragement. By now, I was enough in charge to exchange the horror with joy.

Stage 3: Thrill

As a part of the learning curve, I linked skiing with some other sports that I enjoy and am not totally rubbish at. As with a slackline, you gain extra stability when you bend your knees and lower the centre of gravity. Similarly to biking, you have to balance between the front and rear to maintain traction. Suddenly, it made sense. I tilted to a side, and I turned. I leaned forward and stopped washing away. Yey!

It wasn't all effortless yet. I wasn't the only beginner on the slope, but by this time, I was faster than some of the others. And while I got my head around the concepts of stability and cornering, I was still far from any precision. That caused a challenge of being able to dodge the slower riders. Some stopped at the weirdest places, so there were a few close calls. But I couldn't be mad, I was one of them not too long ago. In the end, it was a good manoeuvring exercise.

Stage 4: Thrill Within Reason

Eventually, I gained some confidence in the cornering accuracy, as well as in tackling the steeper sections. Right, let's try out some of the black-graded pistes.. "Hey hey!" It worked and flying down felt grand, until a large patch of ice froze my smile. Skidding sideways sent me back to the shouting stage, and I recalled Kübler-Ross' stages of death. Thankfully, I managed to stay upright, but it was a fine reminder to stay focused and avoid being too cocky. It also made me think about these skiing stages that I was undergoing.

When the sun hid behind the mountains, we started our last descent of the day.

What a day! I thought while wondering what kind of stages would tomorrow bring.

Stage 5: Pain

Unfortunately, the first stage of the next day wasn't too good. My muscles ache like hell already when I was putting on the gear. Sitting in the gondola heading up, my entire body hurt, which only magnified when I set off skiing down. "I am falling apart," I thought, and started out slow again. Halfway down the first run, I questioned how the heck I would survive the entire day. But, a few rides later, the body was back in business, and I felt better than ever.

Stage 6: Pleasure

The rest of the day was an absolute blast. Yesterday's practice came into action, the skis (mostly) did what I asked them to do, and exploring all the different routes of the ski resort was entertaining till the end. One was out in a beautiful environment, breathing fresh air, getting joyful from the movement, and great company. What's not to like? Time flew by, and the day was soon over.

The sunset wasn't bad either.

Leaving the resort, I discovered another feature of their facilities. The ski pass tracks every time you use any of the lifts and makes stats for you. So, I know that in the two days, I skied down 12,628m (41,430ft) of elevation. I understand that some people can get that in a few hours, but it left me pretty excited — it's like skiing down the entire height of Mt Everest and Breithorn. How cool's that?

After the two days, I see why so many people praise skiing as the ultimate sporty activity — It is genuine fun. Is it more fun than cycling tho? Um, I wouldn't say so. However, I definitely don't want to wait another 10 years to try it again.

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Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this post, you might also like my stories about..:

Cycling, or...

..Winter.

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