The Skier

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To the tune of "The Gambler" by Kenny Rogers.

On a cold December evening, on the Brandywine creek branch road
I met up with a skier, she was too tired to speak
So we sat down to dinner, and she gulped down all my trail mix
As out headlamps they grew dimmer, she began to speak

Son I've made a life, out of looking for the powder
Not confusing it with chowder, or that broken crust
And if you don't mind me saying, your skiing needs improving
You can't ski all you find here, with a kick turn and traverse

You've got to know when to crud bust, know when to ski cut
Know when to parallel, traverse out and run
Never count your turns up, halfway down the mountain
Or you'll have face plants a coming, before the day is done.

-by J. Wong, December 31 1994. This song first appeared in the VOC Brew Hut log book. Inspired by 2000 vertical feet of breakable crust.