{"id":254,"date":"2013-06-06T21:58:48","date_gmt":"2013-06-07T05:58:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sloop.net\/wordpress\/?p=254"},"modified":"2013-06-08T07:26:36","modified_gmt":"2013-06-08T15:26:36","slug":"thursday-night","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sloop.net\/wordpress\/?p=254","title":{"rendered":"Saturday morning, [or Thursday night depending…]"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

[It’s funny, but I actually made this post Thursday night. This morning, after some extra sleep, it dawned on me that I might not have made it so the world could see this post. It’s interesting what sleep deprivation will do to you huh?]<\/p>\n

I have no real news about the criminal case the police have started into Dad’s disappearance. I continue to pray for Dad’s return, even when that possibility seems remote.<\/p>\n

—
\nRight after riding his bike, perhaps even before, Dad\u2019s favorite thing to do was go cross-country skiing. We started long before it was popular. I\u2019m not sure how we came to know about REI back then but it was in the early days of REI. Like I said, I remember the tar and creosote smell, and the old original building back in the early 70\u2019s. [It\u2019s too bad there wasn\u2019t a way to move that smell to the new building.]<\/p>\n

I remember a few of the early trips to REI when I was quite little. I vaguely remember getting the cross-country skis \u2013 but I mainly remember longing over the Toblerone Chocolate<\/a>. Such cute triangular packaging, and they smelled wonderful.<\/p>\n

One of our favorite places to go when we go into the woods is around the area where the Pacific Crest trail crosses Highway 410, or the Chinook Pass highway.<\/p>\n

The view of Mt. Rainier is incredible from the summit, and all along the pacific crest trail from Sourdough gap to Pickhandle point is incredibly beautiful.<\/p>\n

If you\u2019re interested, you can find it in Google maps, here<\/a>:<\/p>\n

—
\nI remember many winters cross-country skiing into the area just below placer lake to a little cabin. We only occasionally got to go into the cabin since we didn\u2019t have a key or really know anyone who did, but we\u2019d often ski up to it and eat lunch outside.<\/p>\n

I was quite a lot younger and less stout than my brothers so skiing up to the cabin was a pretty tall order. I remember just slogging through it many, many times.<\/p>\n

That ski trip isn\u2019t what many people think of when they think cross-country skiing. It\u2019s NOT rolling hills and endless kick and glide. It is steep going up, and often icy and treacherous going back down. And this was in the days when you didn\u2019t have wax-less skis that climbed well in any snow.<\/p>\n

Back then, you used a torch and melted some gooey tar stuff into the base of wooden [not fiberglass] skis. [I really don\u2019t know what the gooey black stuff was, I just remember it bubbled like a witch\u2019s brew, and looked and smelled quite a lot like some kind of tar.]<\/p>\n

Then you\u2019d have several kinds of waxes, of varying softness you\u2019d rub on the bottom of your skis. The wax had to be soft enough to \u201ccatch\u201d the snow when you stepped down on the ski \u2013 that would give you grip. Then when you slid forward on the ski, the snow would release, and you\u2019d glide.<\/p>\n

Well, that was what was *supposed<\/strong>* to happen. And, if you picked the right wax, I\u2019m told it would<\/strong> happen. But it seemed, in my experience, that you were just as likely to run across the Easter-Bunny, the Tooth-Fairy and<\/strong> Santa Claus all at the same time, as to get the wax just right.<\/p>\n

Either the wax was too hard and your skis slid nicely, but gripped nothing, or you got too soft of wax and the snow would just glob up on the bottom of your skis and you\u2019d never slide anywhere. If it was bad enough, the ski wouldn\u2019t even stand flat for the ball of snow on the bottom.<\/p>\n

If the skis didn\u2019t grip, you\u2019d have to stamp each foot down as you went up the trail. You\u2019d carefully place your poles behind you, pushing hard with your arms, and gingerly step forward. About 90% of the time, as you\u2019d take a step, the ski you were standing on would suddenly start sliding backwards. If you were lucky you didn\u2019t fall down and lose more ground than you\u2019d just covered in that step. If you were unlucky you got to dig yourself out of the snow, dust it out of your pants, boots and gloves, struggle to your feet and try that whole process over.<\/p>\n

Ok, I\u2019m probably wrong, it wasn\u2019t 90%, it was more like 95% of the time.<\/p>\n

Climbing with too soft of wax was usually pretty great, unless it was way too soft \u2013 then it was terrible both ways. But once you got to the top, and were prepared for an easy trip back to the car, it was infuriating! You\u2019d be trying to slide and glide and no matter what you did, you couldn\u2019t get the skis to slide. They\u2019d just stop. And then you\u2019d stand with one leg up in the air to scrape the snow off the bottom of the ski. Usually this maneuver would end with you falling over.<\/p>\n

Being young and less physically skilled, I can remember how frustrated and discouraged I\u2019d get. The socks would make my ankles itch and hurt. I\u2019d get wet. I would be so exhausted and tired. I probably spent more time laying in drifts and eating snow than actually skiing.<\/p>\n

But Dad would stay with me, and encourage me to get up and try some more. I can\u2019t say I remember these early trips with fondness. But I think Rick and Randy both enjoyed skiing a lot. As I got older, I started to enjoy it more too.<\/p>\n

Dad clearly loved skiing. Every weekend we had the opportunity, we\u2019d be up skiing. I know many times he, Rick and Randy skied far up the valley and enjoyed the incredible sights.<\/p>\n

The quietness of the snow-covered forest is incredible. When the sun was out, the snow would sparkle and flash. The air was crisp and clean. Green evergreen trees, covered with snow. Blue, blue sky, flashing sparkles as the snow reflected the sun and sky \u2013 it was simply spectacular.<\/p>\n

\u2026and eating snow. There\u2019s something just incredible about it. I still like it today \u2013 it\u2019s probably the first thing I think of when I see snow!<\/p>\n

I may not have always loved the skiing, but I\u2019ve always thought snow was simply amazing for its beauty. In my opinion, there\u2019s just nothing that compares!<\/p>\n

On one of these outings I had a bird eat out of my hand for the first time. It was right near the cabin on a sunny winter day. A hungry Gray Jay was eager to eat the crust of my PBJ.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t realize it until later that they will practically take the whole sandwich out of your hand, unbidden. But at the time, it was an awesome experience I shared with Dad on a day where I, mostly, enjoyed the skiing<\/p>\n

Even earlier in my life, I recall a few years when we got very little snow in the mountains. I only vaguely recall the finer details \u2013 I was probably six to eight years old at the time.<\/p>\n

Usually the Chinook Pass highway closes at Morris Creek at the beginning of the winter. The road is quite exposed and many snow avalanches come down over the road. So, they close the road in November or so, and reopen it in the spring.<\/p>\n

Yet that year, the road stayed open. Except for the very top of the pass, there just wasn\u2019t much snow.<\/p>\n

But I remember going somewhere, I think near the summit, to a place where there was a big hill. Rick and Randy built a jump at the bottom of the hill and spent what seemed like hours climbing up, skiing down and flying over the jump in our Nordic, wooden, cross-country skis.<\/p>\n

There\u2019s another \u201cfeature\u201d of the old wooden skis that only a few managed to discover. The tips of the skis are definitely breakable. And once you\u2019ve broken the tip of your ski, it doesn\u2019t ski so well anymore – at least not on the top of the snow.<\/p>\n

Randy, if I recall correctly, broke more than one ski over the years. We ended up buying an emergency plastic replacement ski tip at, where else, REI. I don\u2019t think any of us even knew such a thing existed, or that you\u2019d even need one, until it happened to us the first time. But it did allow the poor victim to get back to the car without too much trouble.<\/p>\n

Once back home, I remember Rick and Randy fashioning and gluing a lamination patch and sanding the patch+ski down. I don\u2019t recall exactly how well that worked, but I don\u2019t think it was so great, because I don\u2019t recall seeing those skis for long.<\/p>\n

Going out skiing was one thing the Sloop boys did regularly with Dad. And I think the memories we all have are of quiet, astonishingly beautiful scenery spent with Dad.<\/p>\n

I know that while Randy and I are not around to go skiing with Dad anymore he has continued to go up and enjoy the snow with Rick and Linda and their family. I\u2019ve heard he\u2019s started using snowshoes as he worries about falling more than he used to.<\/p>\n

Years past he would have scorned snowshoes \u2013 they weren\u2019t his idea of the thing to use. But now that it is snowshoes or nothing, it\u2019s amusing that snowshoes aren\u2019t so bad anymore. I\u2019m sure that\u2019s an adjustment, yet it\u2019s an indication of how much he loved the snow, being out in nature and the pleasure that it brought him.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d love to get a chance to go enjoy the snow with Dad again. I\u2019d probably even have fewer excuses about why we couldn\u2019t go \u2013 we\u2019d slow down our lives, I think. Perhaps we wouldn\u2019t take so many things as given and stable. We know now, more than ever, they aren\u2019t.<\/p>\n

-Greg<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[It’s funny, but I actually made this post Thursday night. This morning, after some extra sleep, it dawned on me that I might not have made it so the world could see this post. It’s interesting what sleep deprivation will do to you huh?] I have no real news about the criminal case the police […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-254","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sloop.net\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/254","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sloop.net\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sloop.net\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sloop.net\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sloop.net\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=254"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/www.sloop.net\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/254\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":258,"href":"https:\/\/www.sloop.net\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/254\/revisions\/258"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sloop.net\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=254"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sloop.net\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=254"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sloop.net\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=254"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}