February 2007 (Part 2) - skiing

So, we proved them all wrong - all those fair-weather friends who wished us, before our skiing trip, with a twinkle in their eye, "break a leg". Neither of us broke any legs. I did, however, dislocate a shoulder.

We arrived Sunday mid-afternoon at our hotel in the village of Verchlaby near the skiing resort of Spindel Mlyn in the Krakonos mountain range on the Czech-Poland border. It was too late to ski but early enough to explore so as a "warm-up", we indulged in two tourist rides. First, "abuvim on ice" – slipping down an icy obstacle course in inflated rubber tubes; and secondly and memorably, we tobogganed four kilometers downhill at breakneck pace through blowing snow and thick fog with near zero visibility. That was fun.

The next morning, our first skiing day, we practised rudimentary maneuvers on a 20 metre practice slope. Suitably impressed by our progress, already that afternoon our trainer took us up in the cable car to test our mettle on the real thing - a trifling teeny tiny itsy bitsy descent of 2,700 metres.

Judy was not ready for this challenge. She would ski a few meters, build up speed, lose control, and plonk herself down, as instructed, on her rear-end to prevent herself slamming into the trees that lined the slope. At first, playing the role of attentive caring husband, I hung around offering encouragement and help after each fall to get her standing on her own two skis. But I tired of that quickly so, I skied a few meters downhill myself, built up speed, lost control, and instead of plonking myself down on my well-padded back-side, tripped up and rolled head over heels, dislocating my left shoulder.

Thus ended our skiing.

Judy got such a shock from my injury, she abandoned her skis and sticks and descended the remaining 2,000+ meters of the slope on her back-side (possibly breaking a course record, in the process). I, on the other hand, was chauffeured down the mountain in a snow-mobile, transferred to an ambulance that took me to a clinic where a very professional, gentle and considerate medical staff restored my left shoulder to its rightful position.

I'll save you the "it wasn't my fault" whining and the vituperations muttered under my breath about the irresponsible trainer. Judy and I had agreed in advance that in case one of us is injured (fully expecting it to be Judy), we would both hang up our skis and find alternative activities. Together. How romantic.

We spent five hours the next day walking the beautiful snowy mountain paths of Svaty Peter. The day after we clambered aboard the cable cars, treacherously balancing rented toboggans on our knees. From the top we coasted down the mountain on the toboggans following the peaceful, picturesque paths preferred by cross-country skiers. On our final day we travelled to the stunning city of Prague where we visited the Jewish quarter with its Middle Age shuls, the grave of the Maharal, the famous castle and astronomical clock and many many gift stores with their Bohemian glass figurines, ornaments and toys carved in wood, Pinocchio-like string puppets and brightly-painted eggs. None of which we would have experienced sans the shoulder dislocation.

So we still had a lovely holiday. We returned to Israel happy, with one injury too many and not enough bruises.

Why am I writing this bulletin? Because today, less than a week after our return, Judy took Elon and Naphtali up to the Hermon. As we strongly expected, the boys are natural skiers, born, as it were, with two eyes, two ears, two hands and two skis. Within minutes they had mastered the basics and within an hour were ready for the mountains. But my first pride is reserved for Judy, who, perhaps emboldened by the presence of her sons, overcame her fears and skied down the *blue slope on the Hermon no less than three times with hardly a tumble.

Skiing has got under Judy's skin. I've never before seen her so enthused about anything. Mark my words. This isn't the last you'll hear of Judy and skiing in these newsletters. She's hooked.


* "Blue" does not reflect the colour of the snow but the level of difficulty. Skiing slopes progress from green (easy-peasy), to blue to red and finally to black (death-defying).