Mountain Dreams

Driving down the highway in the night, just a few hours into our declared vacation, in slow motion, I watch a huge white-tailed buck with a huge rack bow to the contours of the hood of our car and, then, be launched at a high speed through the air towards a steep ditch.  Did that really just happen?  We pulled over in utter shock and disbelief realizing that Olga had just hit a deer while going 65 mph.  No warning. One moment all was clear and the next moment there's a deer square in front of the windshield. What to do? We get out of the car to assess the damage. The hood and grill were crunched. With still 9+ hours to go, plus the drive back, I make the decision to turn around to go back to Austin and get my car.  To save any more detail, after making a more thorough assessment in the lights of a gas station and several more miles down the road towards Austin, I made the comment, "I think we can make it to the mountains".  A few minutes later, I make an u-turn in the middle of the highway and head back towards our original destination.  "We're going on vacation.", I said.  That decision became the beginning of a great Thanksgiving weekend.

The mountains are in my blood and, I'm convinced, ingrained in my genetic code.  Anytime I'm in the mountains, I seem to have endless energy.  The cold, the forests, the snow, the altitude.  It doesn't get any better!

We didn't waste any time finding a local trail after arriving in New Mexico this past week. It was a physical shock going from 80+ degrees the previous day to the mid teens within 24 hours.  But, while it was cold, it didn't take long for me to acclimate.  I can't say that about the heat.  On Thanksgiving morning, we awoke to several inches of fresh snowfall .  We dressed up for our adventure to go on a short adventure on the local trails with the temperatures hovering in the mid teens and the wind taking our breath away on occasion, but it didn't matter. We spent the majority of the time, ok, actually the entire time breaking trail and route finding, but it was a complete blast. The afternoon found us with our toes frozen to about the balls of each foot as we broke trail in our attempt to ascend the local ski area mountain.  The crux of the ascent was a very steep, loose rock mixed with snow, expert slope (a.k.a. "black diamond").  After 1 hour and 50 minutes, we were rewarded with incredible views of the valley almost 2,500 feet below, as well as, a leisurely constant descent with the benefit of snow packed trails, thanks to snow mobiles, for about 4 miles back to our car.

On Friday morning we awoke to temperatures hovering around -6 degrees Fahrenheit with wind chills much colder.  I opted to stay inside while Olga went for out for the local loop we did the previous day.  After she returned full of incredible energy from her outing, we decided on an impromptu trip to Taos Ski Valley where we purchased lift tickets and rented equipment.  My nerves were quite high, since it had been many years since I've done any alpine skiing.  I had transitioned to Nordic, but had definitely missed alpine and having my heel firmly fixed in a binding.  As soon as I stepped into the bindings and gave a little push, the nerves began to slip away.  It would take a 10 minute ride up the lift to slowly erode my remaining anxiety about being on skis, again.  By the time I made it down the mountain, I couldn't wait to get back to the top.  While, I slowly and methodically focused on finding my edges, Olga, true to her personality, quickly made her way down the mountain.  We ended up making 9 runs in just a few hours for about 45 miles of skiing.  My quads were burning from all the eccentric loading, but I could have kept going.  I made as many turns, as possible, on the last run, only to agree on one more run when we got to the bottom.  Totally addicted!  I spent the entire time of the true last run of the day trying to perfect my turns and find those elusive edges making as many turns as possible regardless of the quad burning sensations. This evening, I told Olga if I had to chose between trail running and snow skiing, I'd pick the later without a second thought.  It's in my blood and I believe it always will be.

We would spend our last morning back on the local trail, which, coincidentally, bordered the back property line of the house where we stayed. The temperature was 1 degree and, by the end, had risen to 16 degrees.  It actually felt balmy as I would later go outside wearing a t-shirt to clean the car windows before our long trip back to Austin.  It was sad to leave the mountains, as always.  And, that's the way it has always been for me.  Someday I won't have to leave, someday...