Master of the Blues

No, I ain't gone Lightnin Hopkins. I'm talking blue runs, as in skiing, as in kickass alpine at Targhee.

First off: I suck at skiing. I started the learning process at age 36, which means I was already brittle and frightened. You want to start skiing when you're fearless and made of rubber, sometime between ages 3 and 20.

But, after learning on ice in the dark up at Bogus, I persisted in this sport whose appeal entirely escaped me, largely because part of my deal included a pass for the following season. So, I went again and again and by the end of the year I was hooked.

Now this, my second full year of alpine action, I am finally seeing some progress. I can point myself downhill, keep my body squared, keep my weight on the balls of my feet, and generally maintain control.

I've skied a few black runs at Bogus (Wildcat, War Eagle, Paradise), and this past weekend at Targhee, out in Driggs, I attacked all the blue runs I could get my feet on and came out smiling like a maniac. The blues there are as steep or more so than the blacks at Bogus, so I like my changes heading back up to the local hill.

I've got some killer cameraphone photos I'm trying to post here, but they're not going through, so that'll have to wait. Know that the view from the top of Targhee of the Tetons in full sunny winter glory is pretty friggin amazing.

I love this skiing business.