I usually do my “Ski Day” write-ups a few days after the trip. Sometimes I procrastinate and a week or two goes by.
I waited over four months to do the last post, though, because the sudden end to the 2019/2020 ski season — and the brutal arrival of COVID-19 — was such a shock.
I skied on a Friday, and by the following Sunday I was bedridden, with a cough, a headache, a mild fever and aching muscles. I still don’t know if it was the seasonal flu or COVID-19, but whatever it was wasn’t any fun, and kept me in bed for most of a week.
How did I get whatever it was I had? Was it the friendly barkeep at the pub I’d eaten at (he insisted on shaking every patron’s hand)? Maybe some of the college kids I’d shared a gondola cabin with? I’ll never know. Hand-shaking and cabin-sharing seem otherworldly now, or quaint, or maybe foolish.
I expect things will be different next season, if there is lift-served skiing at all. I’ve bought a pair of snow shoes just in case…
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Eventually, and probably sooner rather than later, climate change will make Covid look like a brief summer thunderstorm.
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