Photo: D. Waag

See also Contest 01: Chairlift Encounter

See also Contest 02: Panic

See also Contest 03: Squalor

See also Contest 04:
Fall

Zinging in the Rain
By RYAN BRETT

We shuffle, slouched, skis shouldered, heads down. Already the beads of water that rest on our jackets are soaking in and weighing us down, making it difficult to negotiate the muddy, puddle-strewn parking lot. Tentative and distraught, we stare down the barrel of the last day of the Seattle season and find only wet disillusionment.

Coats crinkle as some look back to the comfort of our car, but the white draws our eyes back toward the mountain. We walk up to the ticket window, slap down the standard fare, and click in.

The lift ride is long and quiet. No one speaks. Faces are buried in jackets to escape the shower. No clicking of skis. No noise except the patient whir of the lift and the sound of rainfall. Our collective disappointment is nearly debilitating. As we get off the lift, water that usually runs off instead seeps through our soaked pants. Skis drag slowly on the wet cord. Sweet. What a great start.

A few slow runs and countless goggle wipes later, we discover something new. Something that was always in sight but never seen. A drop-off into a bowl, hidden from our usually creative vision by the normally present off-limits signs. Hidden because it is in plain view of patrollers and mountain staff. We scope it out and race down to the lift.

The ride back up is definitely different than the beginning of the day. We tell stories of similar hits in previous seasons and discuss how best to hit this one. By the time we arrive at the top we have it dialed.

One by one we skate and tuck our way to top speed in the mushy snow. Popping off of the top of the lip is liberating. Floating through the air, tucked up, feeling the ground fall from beneath our skis. Unreal. Nothing like it.

The rain continues to soak our jackets and pants. It continues to smear across our goggles and skew our sight, but it no longer matters. Our focus shifts away from the misery of being cold and wet to the energy and excitement of speed and air.

The rest of the day is filled with laughter over wipeouts, quick lift rides, and talk of how good an idea it was to stay and ski through the rain. By the end of the day we are wet from beanie to boot. But what sticks in our minds is the moment. Weightlessness. Everything else vanishes. We stay in this moment until the next and we're happy.

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