I have a love/hate relationship with waterskiing. I love to waterski. I love the feeling of gliding over water, watching the spray from my ski, calculating the wake, my speed, and the boat speed. I love the feeling that I'm flying. In fact, it is not uncommon for me to be singing the theme song from "The Greatest American Hero" by Billy Joel. Just the chorus. The rest of it doesn't make sense.
I hate getting into the water. I hate the complete and utter shock to my system. I make terrible sounds when that cold water hits my back. Most incomprehensible. Other words are far too easy to decipher and they are not pretty.
Bear Lake is beautiful lake that straddles the Utah/Idaho border. It sits at nearly 6,000 feet above sea level. The color is beautiful and inviting. In the early morning and near evening, the lake can be incredibly flat and glassy; ideal for a potential waterskier. Except that, as I pointed out earlier, it is a mountain lake. It's cold. To tone down my description, I have removed my usual adjectives.
Imagine for a moment that you want to find out how cold this lake truly is. Fill your tub up with cold water and use a thermometer to check the temperature. If it is between 66 and 68 degrees F., submerge yourself. Feeling refreshed?
Did I mention the hours of glassy water? Air temperature, then is between 58 - 65 degrees F. Make no mistake, the air temperature can be quite toasty during the day but not during the peak waterskiing hours. So, imagine getting into that nice, refreshing tub of water, staying in it long enough to swim to the ski that someone overthrew you and, with icy fingers and toes you can't feel, you jam your foot into the front boot and slide your other numb foot in the back. Wait at least 2 hours (trust me on this one. Time stands perfectly still) as the boat pulls out the slack of the ski rope. Take a deep breath and pray you get up the first time. Yell, "Hit it!" at the top of your croaky lungs. If you are feeling optimistic, stand up slowly. You are getting off easy by doing this in the bathtub. If you were really skiing, the rope will be pulling your arms out of their sockets and your quads and hamstrings are starting to cramp. Right about then your front foot gets a cramp as well.
You're finally up. The drag is over and you are fully skiing. That's when the shock of the cold air hits you. You hang on for dear life as the icicles form on your body. Once acclimated, the fun begins; crossing the wake, spraying a rooster tail, singing songs at the top of your lungs because you know nobody will hear, and dance on the slippery glass of smooth water.
Eventually, the pain sets in. There are no exercises to prepare the muscles you are now using. It's starting to hurt but you hang on even more dearly. Getting into that water the first time was an amazing undertaking. You will ski until you lose your mojo. And, finally completely exhausted, you either wipe out or let go of the rope. By this time the water feels almost warm. Get into the boat with the intense satisfaction that you really can still ski at least as well as you did when you were 28 years younger.
Oh, yeah. That is a wet suit I'm wearing. I guess I cheated a little bit this year.
I hate getting into the water. I hate the complete and utter shock to my system. I make terrible sounds when that cold water hits my back. Most incomprehensible. Other words are far too easy to decipher and they are not pretty.
Bear Lake is beautiful lake that straddles the Utah/Idaho border. It sits at nearly 6,000 feet above sea level. The color is beautiful and inviting. In the early morning and near evening, the lake can be incredibly flat and glassy; ideal for a potential waterskier. Except that, as I pointed out earlier, it is a mountain lake. It's cold. To tone down my description, I have removed my usual adjectives.
Imagine for a moment that you want to find out how cold this lake truly is. Fill your tub up with cold water and use a thermometer to check the temperature. If it is between 66 and 68 degrees F., submerge yourself. Feeling refreshed?
Did I mention the hours of glassy water? Air temperature, then is between 58 - 65 degrees F. Make no mistake, the air temperature can be quite toasty during the day but not during the peak waterskiing hours. So, imagine getting into that nice, refreshing tub of water, staying in it long enough to swim to the ski that someone overthrew you and, with icy fingers and toes you can't feel, you jam your foot into the front boot and slide your other numb foot in the back. Wait at least 2 hours (trust me on this one. Time stands perfectly still) as the boat pulls out the slack of the ski rope. Take a deep breath and pray you get up the first time. Yell, "Hit it!" at the top of your croaky lungs. If you are feeling optimistic, stand up slowly. You are getting off easy by doing this in the bathtub. If you were really skiing, the rope will be pulling your arms out of their sockets and your quads and hamstrings are starting to cramp. Right about then your front foot gets a cramp as well.
You're finally up. The drag is over and you are fully skiing. That's when the shock of the cold air hits you. You hang on for dear life as the icicles form on your body. Once acclimated, the fun begins; crossing the wake, spraying a rooster tail, singing songs at the top of your lungs because you know nobody will hear, and dance on the slippery glass of smooth water.
Eventually, the pain sets in. There are no exercises to prepare the muscles you are now using. It's starting to hurt but you hang on even more dearly. Getting into that water the first time was an amazing undertaking. You will ski until you lose your mojo. And, finally completely exhausted, you either wipe out or let go of the rope. By this time the water feels almost warm. Get into the boat with the intense satisfaction that you really can still ski at least as well as you did when you were 28 years younger.
Mission accomplished. You have achieved the pinnacle of accomplishment at Bear Lake. You don't have to get in again. Get out of the tub and dry off. Put on a t-shirt but keep your wet swimming suit on (did I mention to put on a swimming suit before you begin this exercise?). Now wait in the bathroom and turn on your air conditioner and stand in front of it for the next 15 minutes. Your husband is waterskiing and you are driving. Next he tries the knee board and can't get up. He finally starts complaining of hypothermia and gets into the boat to dry off and warm up.
Now it is your 14 year old daughter's turn. She hasn't quite mastered the art of waterskiing which means that one of her parents has to get into the water with her and help her with her waterskis, coaching, and encouraging. Husband is claiming hypothermia and, besides, you've been skiing longer. Try the guilt card (I carried all four of these children for 9 months for you). If you have overused your guilt card, you have to get in all over again. There you go - back into the 66 -68 degree F. water. Mostly just sit there and pretend you are trying to get your 14 year old to let the skis pull her up. Swim to her when she doesn't quite make it up and try again. 15 minutes pass and she is getting up. You're still in the water. You are suffering from hypothermia.
Last, but not least, get back out of the bathtub, dry off with an already wet towel and sit in front of the air conditioner for the next 45 minutes. That's how long it takes to get to the harbor. Bring in your children to complain about how they are cold/wet/tired/hungry/have to go to the bathroom.
Did you enjoy your experience? Believe it or not, the thrill of waterskiing slightly overshadows the miserable cold. You'll do it again next year but for now you can bask in the knowledge that, at the ripe old age of...well, whatever you are, you are still a good skiier but you don't have to get into that lake for another year.
Now it is your 14 year old daughter's turn. She hasn't quite mastered the art of waterskiing which means that one of her parents has to get into the water with her and help her with her waterskis, coaching, and encouraging. Husband is claiming hypothermia and, besides, you've been skiing longer. Try the guilt card (I carried all four of these children for 9 months for you). If you have overused your guilt card, you have to get in all over again. There you go - back into the 66 -68 degree F. water. Mostly just sit there and pretend you are trying to get your 14 year old to let the skis pull her up. Swim to her when she doesn't quite make it up and try again. 15 minutes pass and she is getting up. You're still in the water. You are suffering from hypothermia.
Last, but not least, get back out of the bathtub, dry off with an already wet towel and sit in front of the air conditioner for the next 45 minutes. That's how long it takes to get to the harbor. Bring in your children to complain about how they are cold/wet/tired/hungry/have to go to the bathroom.
Did you enjoy your experience? Believe it or not, the thrill of waterskiing slightly overshadows the miserable cold. You'll do it again next year but for now you can bask in the knowledge that, at the ripe old age of...well, whatever you are, you are still a good skiier but you don't have to get into that lake for another year.
Wasn't that fun? Let's do it again next year.
Oh, yeah. That is a wet suit I'm wearing. I guess I cheated a little bit this year.
You are awesome!
ReplyDelete(I have never done this. I jumped out of a plane once but I got to wear clothes and didn't have to pretend I know how to swim.)
Ya' know- I have lived in a town surrounded by water all my life and do not water ski. What the heck is wrong with me? Oh yeah, I guess we needed to own a boat. Oh well.
ReplyDeleteI can't imagine cold weather like that in the summer. Even at night here, the low is about 76.
That sounds like so much misery and fun! I, too, have suffered from Bear Lake Hypothermia. It is usually worth it. Usually.
ReplyDeleteLove your hubby's girly scream! Looks like you all had fun, and warmed up eventually. You are fabulous!
We live opposite a huge salt water lake in NSW Australia. I have been on many boat trips where friends and family are being dragged behind on skis or inflatable donuts. I love waterskiing: watching it, photographing it but not actually doing it! I'm just a wuss with a camera and that's the excuse I am sticking with!
ReplyDeleteI just love reading your blog because you make me feel the moment! This was quite a day, eh? The last time that I was on waterskis I just about had to have my wedgie surgically removed!!!!
ReplyDeleteThat is just awesome! Your description made me remember all the things I love/hate about water skiing and it has been over 20 years since I even tried to "get up"!!!
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