The Ski Journal • Volume 17, Issue 3 • SKI ME AGAIN?

When the turn is this good, you just can’t quit. Amie Engerbretson finds the feeling in Portillo, Chile. Photo: Liam Doran

Long time, no ski. Did you get my last letter? I never heard back from you. Anyways, I felt the urge to check in.

This past year, after 30 on this planet, I finally enjoyed my first endless summer. To be honest, it wasn’t that enjoyable.

My journey began in the mountains of Colombia. It was hot and exciting, but my body did not take kindly to the equatorial divide. My feet broke down—blisters and maladies following me around for the next six months. I’ve lived through ski boots, but this time I could not, for the fragile life of my tender little toes, find relief.

I think my body was confused by the lack of cold, almost as if it knew something was wrong. I couldn’t help thinking, “I deserve this.”

After half a year, I returned to the States to hike the Pacific Crest Trail, continuing to avoid your familiar embrace. I had plenty of time to think out there. I thought about you a lot. When I started my hike, I wasn’t sure where I’d end up, but as I strolled through the Sierra Nevada, my future became bluebird.

After all these years, all these mountains, all these towns, you’re still the best I’ve ever had. You might say you ruined me. After I peaked with you, there was nowhere else to go but down. Can there be such a thing as an endless summer? It has to end at some point, right?

It’s been a tough year. I miss you something awful, but maybe it was good to spend this time away because now I understand how much I want you; I need you. I’m sorry. I’ve made a mistake. I want you back in my life. I miss your cold company, that midnight shiver. I miss that tingly feeling I get right after I wake and right before I open the blinds. I miss your clean morning groomers; I miss your sloppy spring slush.

The summit was cloudy for a while, but it’s cleared out now. I’m ready to drop in again. Like wind-blown powder, I’ve been drifting around looking for a place to land, to find stability. I know now that that place is with you. Take me back, skiing.

The Ski Journal - Volume 17, Issue 3

SKI ME AGAIN?

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