The Purloined Skis

According to modern physics, there is a finite probability that one can just walk through a brick wall with out injury to the wall or the individual. That happened to me last Tuesday when I was skiing at Copper Mountain.

My friend Jim and I were skiing near the Timberline lift. After great runs on a perfect day with no lift lines, we decided to stop at the hutch at the base of the lift that was located half way up the mountain at 10,000 feet. We took off our skis and leaned them against a rack with at most 25 other pairs. We bought hot chocolate and set chatting at picnic table in the bright sun. We shared our granola bars with the gregarious Gray Jays.

Refreshed, we put our skis back on and rode up the lift. When we stopped part way down the run, I looked at my skis and noticed that they weren't mine! They were rentals from Christy Sports, but they were Solomon brand, not Rossingnol. I had taken someone elses' skis.

The hutch was a long way down the hill, a small speck between my ski tips. We raced down the hill; my best ski performance of the day. I imagined a guy coming back to put on his skis, only to find that they were gone. He certainly would be both confused and mad as hell.

We got back to the hutch quickly. I asked the people sitting at a table next to the ski rack if they had heard someone complaining about his skis being stolen. They all said no. I put the purloined skis back in the rack where I found them. I walked up the steps to the hutch and asked the guy running the concessions if anyone had complained about missing their skis. He told me he hadn't heard a thing.

I returned to the ski rack and put on the Rossingols I had started the day with. We skied down to the nearby lift and asked the operator if anyone had gone back up the lift with no skis on. The only way out of the area would be to ride up the lift to a higher one, and then ride down to the bottom. The operator said that no one had gotten on the lift without skiis.

So, I had unwittingly "borrowed" someone's rental skis that just happened to be Christy rentals that exactly fit my boots, took them to the top of the Timberline lift, skied back down, and then returned them where I had borrowed them.

We rode back up to the top and skied down to check at the hutch--the skis were still in the rack.

We returned to the top and skied back down to the hutch--the skis were gone--the guy never knew. I wonder what he would have said to me if he had found out that I was the one who stole his skis. I tried to find him, but I am not sure what I would have said.

Many have suggested that much of my life has unfolded this way. I unconsciously and luckily just happen to walk through walls with minimum injury. I lumber on and life is good.