Whenever I find myself on top of a mountain in winter, especially when it’s snowing, I feel a rush of emotions. Above all, I am always amazed that I am there, that I ever took up the sport, and that I stuck with it despite a discouraging beginning. Equally important, I am grateful that I can physically do it and can afford it, as it takes stamina, some level of skill, and a decent chunk of money. I’ve experienced this same introspective moment every year for 30 years straight and I’ve experienced it all over the globe.
As a single woman who likes to ski and travel, I often signed up for group trips with a ski and outing club. Double-occupancy rooms are the norm with these organizations; if you are not going with a friend or partner, you can either be assigned a room-mate by the trip leader or pay an extra charge. When I was younger and my sense of adventure was greater than my discretionary income, I would gamble and take a “pot-luck” room-mate. Sometimes I made a new friend. Other times, the only positive outcome was a crazy story to tell. Here are two memorable events.
accidental goddess 