November 5, 2003 Culture ¢ the other press ©

 

Poetry/Fiction/Essays/etc.

Conquering McConkey’s

Whistler Mountain

Minus six degrees Celsius

I peer over the cornice of hard packed snow

Straight down to places unknown

An empty, untouched opening

Wait too long . . . or look too closely and I'll turn back.

McConkey’s Run

Sheer vertical terrain

Up and over I go, drop in, land awkwardly

My breathing 4s shallow; my goggles fog

Fright causes torso temperature to rise like a hot flash i

Why am I doing this?

Narrow, steep entry

Boulders poke through crusty snow where skis are
Desperately grabbing at ice

My hands tremble; my knees wobble

Salty tears flow from regretful eyes

No turning back now.

Double black diamond rating
Gigantic, cavernous moguls

I survive four tight turns . . . barely
Shoulder muscles tense, while
Better judgment and fear collide

This was a big mistake.

Rarely skied territory

Still precipitous, but widening
Linked turns seem unattainable to me
My toes are frozen

Panic can cause errors

Now would not be a good time to fall. Look ahead.

Single black diamond terrain appears!

Hummocks of untracked snow

Smooth, connected turns bring a familiar skiing cadence
My burning heart stops racing

Upper body relaxes

I feel like ’'m floating. This is amazing!

Open, untouched topography

Bumps are rolling, wide, inviting

With every twist I make, crystals fly

My eyes are smiling

Anxiety fades, technique resurfaces

Remember the image; “Hold a marble in your belly button!”

The finale is

A smooth, winding river where

Speed and stability are important,

Alarm is over, body parts are intact

One question looms large

Should I try McConkey’s one more time?

 
   
  
 
 
   

Yes, I'd like to conquer McConkey’s.

By: Karen Larsen

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