Hello and welcome to An Altitude Problem, where the lack of work is wonderful, but your blogger feels a bit...lazy.

Oh, it has been wonderful, and I have been able to take a few hikes, a few walks, a three mile run last night, and snowboarding this morning.

Now I sit here with a sunburned face, still in my finally dry jacket, with little bits of shredded paper all over the floor around me, compliments of Andy, and last night's leftover shriveled eggplant steaks, shriveled corn, shriveled potatoes, and an open bottle of Riesling sit exactly as I left them. I am trying to remember the point at which I stopped thinking about the state of the kitchen, after dinner last night, and I simply cant remember even once thinking about it after the last bite. Oh, I remember what happened now. I sat down with the remote, for just a sec, watch some news, ya know... and got momentarily stuck on a rundown of the world's 100 most beautiful women, and about five beauties in, began to feel so inadequate I went running to punish myself, and then it rained on me, and Andy and i were both stinky and soaked when we got home, and then I took a shower, and then fell asleep on the couch, and never went into the kitchen again. Honestly, I was shocked to see last night's dinner still on the stovetop when i got up this morning. But this morning, it was far more important to get to the Basin, since it closes tomorrow, than it was to scrape 12 hour old potatoes off a cast iron pan.

It was a good day at the basin, in spite of a stiff breeze at the top. I was glad i had worn a jacket, in spite of the fact that the thermometer said it was 56 degrees when I left the house. I went all the way to the top, and discovered that pond skimming, the springtime sport of skiing or snowboarding across a body of water without getting wet, was in full swing in the pond that forms every spring in an indention on the main vein down. I made three runs, casing the joint, getting butterflies in my stomache at the thought of it, not so much at the thought of sinking in the frigid water, but at the thought of crashing on the ice on the other side and leaving pieces of me on the sharp edges. Then, I joined the group of indecisive skiers and riders at the top of the chute that led to the pond, and watched a few more skiers or snowboarders either make it across, biff it and have a yard sale and have to fish their skis from the muddy, hip-deep icy water, or sink into the water halfway across, or hit the lip on the other side and flip themselves arse over teakettle into the hard, sharp ice and snow. We discussed strategy, then clothing options. Should I plan on sinking, and take off my snowpants before hand? Should I take off my jacket, so in case I got wet, I would have dry clothes? Or should I leave them on, knee and elbow protection in case I made it across and crashed on the other side? After a bit of discussion and imput from fellow pond-skimmers, I stripped down to my running shorts, which I was wearing under my snowpants, but left on my jacket and gloves.

Then, I took a deep breath, and hit the chute. I freaked out at the last minute because of a bit of turbulence, some rough, gouged out snow throwing my board around, and lost my momentum in a tiny, sideways slide. I almost made it across the water, but some slush and floating ice chunks on the surface slowed me down too much, and I sank into the water to my hips. I had to reach down to remove my board, and climbed out of the pond with the help of a bystander. Several people showed me pictures they had taken, and I could see I was not leaned far enough back to allow proper planing of my board, so I retrieved my snowpants from someone who had chickened out of pond skimming and had decided to carry them down to me, and I hung them on a bamboo caution post, rode down to the chairlift, and, teeth chattering, rode the chair back to the top to try again.

That time, I knew what to do. I loosened up my knees and squatted low, to take the shock of the rough chute, and must have been doing at least forty when I hit the water. I was aware of a splash, and for the next half second, an incredibly smooth ride, and then I hit the bank, caught some air, landed it, and skidded to a stop. As expected, it was a rush. Unfortunately, the person behind me was not so lucky. He biffed it big time, a giant splash from which arms and legs flopped, then submerged, and he broke the surface sputtering and ski-less. Since I was not wearing my snowpants, I climbed into the water with him and helped him search for his sunken skis, not wanting them to add to the reported five skis already frozen into the bottom of the pond. We felt around on the rocky, icy bottom, arms and legs numb, until he had located both of them, then climbed out, my legs angry red, goosebumpy, and oddly warm. By the way, the first picture on this post was snapped by Chris. I do not know Chris, but he offered to email me the picture he had taken of me on the water. The last two pictures located somewhere in this post, are camera phone pics, not the greatest, but hey. One is of the pond from the chairlift, and one is of a hapless skier fishing his skis from the icy muck on the bottom.

I saw some familiar figures ahead of me on the way down, and stopped to ask them if they were, indeed, Kim and Cameron (Grandpa Bill's daughter and daughter's husband). It was indeed, and we exchanged pleasantries, but I was in a bit of a hurry to put my pants back on, so I left them and rode down to the lodge. Once there, my adrenaline rush began to abate a bit, and I was sad to see it go. What could it hurt, I wondered...so pants in hand, I climbed back on the chair and made another teeth-chattering ride to the top. Kim and Cameron found me at the top of the chute again, and offered to carry my snowpants, so I took them up on it, and hit the pond again, and nailed it. By this time my legs were a bit more blue than red, and they made my decision for me. On the way down, Cameron invited me to lunch at the Dam Brewery in Dillon, so, snowpants in hand, I made my way into the bathroom and held my feet, one at a time, under the hand dryer, letting the warm air melt the ice that encased my bootlaces, until they were pliable again. I stripped off my boots, rung out my socks, and pulled my snowpants on over my goosebumpy legs, then, barefoot, picked my way down the steps and across the muddy parking lot, suddenly getting signals from my ankle that stairs were not a wise choice for me.

Andy greeted me as though I had been gone for days, and nearly flooded the parking lot when I let him out of the jeep, where he had been sleeping all morning, to do his business.

And so it happened that I was treated to lunch at the Dam Brewery today. It was good to get to know Kim and Cameron a bit better, and I found out from them that my family may be planning a trip to the mountains this July. Yes, my family. Funny I hadn't heard about it...aherm, anyone?

And now, before it rains, I need to take the yellow beast outside for a scamper, to offload all the excess energy he has been storing up all morning while sleeping in the jeep.