SUGARLOAF, Maine–My uncle took me on my first ski outing when I was about 12. He was a giant at 6 feet 7 inches and I was a munchkin at 4 feet 5 inches. We were quite the pair, navigating West Mountain and Gore. He would gruffly shout to me an instruction and I would try my best to master the turn or the etiquette of merging from one trail to another. At the end of each lesson, I looked forward to reaching in to the lunch cooler when we took a break to take a swig off the mini plastic jug of chocolate milk he had brought just for me.

In high school, I joined Ski Club. Every Tuesday night, my friends and I would board a bus for West. I went off my first jump unintentionally when trying to impress an upperclassmen by flying by him. I didn’t see the jump and actually did fly for a second. I didn’t get hurt though and was quick to stomp the dusting of snow off my boots and pants and continue on, looking forward to Pizza Hut later when we would eat well and laugh about my wipe-out.

Skiing in recent years has been about spending time with family and friends too. I rode the magic carpet at Willard with my kids who were in pre-school and kindergarten when they first put on skis. They eventually boarded the actual lift and moved beyond the bunny slope to the beginner and intermediate trails. My son joined Ski Club this year as a sixth grader.

Over February break, my husband and I had the good fortune to be invited to a ski vacation in Sugarloaf, Maine.  The seven hour road trip was worth it.  We stopped and got Starbucks and Cadbury Mini Eggs  (breakfast candy) at the appropriate times and laughed at each others’ jokes at the appropriate times on the way there. We had lunch at one of my favorite Maine destinations Bob’s Clam Shack in Kittery. Lobster stew in a bread bowl!

Then, we continued on and eventually arrived to find the condo we were staying in on the mountain would afford us the luxury of putting our skis on immediately after walking out the door, skiing  a short distance and boarding the lift to be whisked up of the mountain. We also had the joy of watching the lights of the big snow cats as they groomed the hill at night soon after our arrival.  The friends who had invited us were in the know about where to go to eat and hear music and we had a fun Friday night.

The next morning, we found the trails weren’t crowded and though there was some ice to contend with, we did pretty well finding some trails that were suited to our abilities. It was a sweet experience until what became my final run of the day.

It was about 3:00 p.m. when we started discussing closing out the day. We knew the lifts would stop running at 3:45 and the goal was to be on one at that time so we maximized our skiing time that day, getting in a last run while most others had moved on to their condos or cars. So we were once again checking out the map as there are multiple lifts there and lifts that take you to other lifts and to glade trails and to condos and sometimes to secluded high parts of the mountain. You get the picture–it was a lot to manage.  I had decided early in the day that it was best to trust the keeper of the map. We all had maps but only one of us ever got his out and he would also ski directly to the map when getting off the lift. He was our human GPS and I followed the instructions given knowing the rest of the day had worked out well and it seemed these final runs would bring more of the same. I discovered I may have been a little more proactive and attentive when we were halfway up the four person lift on a side of the mountain we had not checked out yet and it was revealed in conversation that there was only blue/intermediate trail at the top of this lift and the rest were black/expert trails. The one blue trail’s name was Ramdown. That sounded ominous to me and I second guessed aloud whether that was the actual name of the trail. They confirmed. Suddenly, I wondered if the solitude I had been marveling at over on this side of the mountain was not indicative of the other skiers not taking the time or having the intellect to find this beautiful slope but perhaps they knew something I didn’t know.

Each time we had gotten off a lift close to the summit earlier in the day, there had been swirling snow and strong winds reminiscent of a squall, making it hard to remember we had just been riding up there in the bright sun, comfortable and in awe of having come on such a clear day. The blustery conditions were short-lived though–once we pushed off on our skis, the weather was welcoming and the skiing was serene.

Because it was late in the afternoon and temperatures were dropping, this time it started to get cold and blustery before we raised our tips for the lift dismount. When we actually skied down the ramp, we discovered a blizzard. I immediately had the sensation that I was going to blow off the mountain. This is probably a good time to mention I am pretty fearful of heights. Typically I can be deliberate in focusing my attention on something other than the feeling of fear that starts to overcome me. Skiing off to a gentle trail had been great for coping most of the day. However, this time there was no gentle trail!  Instead there was an arrow to two black diamond trails and a steep drop off the world, claiming it was the blue/intermediate trail Ramdown. It didn’t help that it was the end of the day and all powder had blown away. Wicked wind+crazy heights+sheer ice rendered me incapable of dodging my fear of heights. Instead I did what I do when I suddenly feel gravity may fail me. I try to stay as close to Earth as possible to ensure I don’t tumble or fly off.  When hiking, I have been known to hunker down next to a large rock. There weren’t any  boulders at the top of Ramdown. There were a few random skiers who came by and commented on the terrible conditions and helpfully questioned whether this was actually a blue trail before continuing on with few issues.  And there was my husband and our friends who were trying to coax me to follow their lead. And then there was me, staring down at my skis, afraid to raise my head and see what surrounded me. My thoughts were racing–could I walk back to the ski lift and ride back down? That didn’t seem like a less scary option at this point. Was this ridiculous ice half pipe one of many on this long trail? It all became too much and I began to lose it–tears came as I blubbered to my husband that I didn’t know what to do. He tried to coach me on where to start.  I didn’t move and then when I did, I flew across to a crest at the other side of the icy trail, convinced I would lose control on this surface and a severe injury was imminent. Our friend gave me the go-ahead to do what I had thought was my best option. I removed my skis. My husband held on to them while I slowly walked down the narrow bank that separated this trail from a black diamond. I kept my head down and made sure my poles were firmly planted each time I took a step. Both my husband and friend yelled to me that I should stand up straight and just walk but as usual when my fear of heights overcomes me, I avoided standing tall (which is never very tall for me) because it seems it will be harder to maintain balance. I am irrationally certain that the less surface area I occupy, the more control I have. The snow bank was only available for so long but it got me down the steepest part. Then, I walked across the icy surface very, very slowly to an acceptable plateau, lifted my goggles to wipe away my dried-up tears, and finally put my skis back on. The rest of our journey down to the base of the mountain was mostly uneventful.

We purchased a Ramdown trail sign on our way of town the next morning. It is displayed in our living room. It is a trophy but not because it honors an accomplishment or a moment that fills me with pride.  Instead it acknowledges that Ramdown moments happen.  Things get difficult sometimes–even when you have experience.  Emotions overwhelm. It’s not always easy to think rationally. Fear can be paralyzing. One person’s way to manage isn’t everybody’s way. Problem solving helps. Friends help. It’s good to have friends who will wait for you and coach you through a Ramdown moment rather than continue on their way.

Comment below–sharing your own Ramdown moment or thanking someone for seeing you through one.