Skiing in Maryland: A Humble Tale
I woke up to a dribble of sweat falling down my face. Annoyed, I swipe upon my face to stop this little moisture drop from going further down my immaculate dome piece. I attempted to open my eyes, only to be welcomed by that yucky weird goo stuff that had glued my eyes shut.
It was the 27th of December, and I had just returned home from Vermont to my home in Maryland. I was absolutely jazzed, as Vermont had just gotten 2 feet of snow!! What better place to be than in my lovely home in Maryland, over 500 miles away!!! It's like going to the movie theater to watch the ads, only to leave when the movie starts.
Sick line
After chiseling my deity-like eyes open, I realized that my window was spread ajar, allowing in the cool 50-degree breeze into my abode. I shut my window and looked upon my yard to see not one foot of snow, not two feet of snow, but ZERO FEET OF SNOW. Yup, I had it made. To be quite frank, I get more stoked off of the bean patties in Simpson dining. I check my phone to see the SSC posting pictures of their home mountains, which have more snow than a cheap club bathroom in Jersey City. I spurted out a GENUINE ear-shattering belly laugh. These goofy goobers had no clue what they were missing here in MARYLAND. They should be jealous of me fo real!
I immediately grabbed my gear and headed up to the mountain. I'll show them! I'll find the best line known to mankind, and then everyone will know that Maryland has by far the greatest skiing all around. To be fair, we had all-time's greatest swimmer, winner of 28 Olympic medals, and prodigy of his time, Michael Phelps, grow up in my very state. I know what you may be thinking, "What does that have to do with skiing? That statement is about as useless as a screen door on a submarine!" To that, I respond, yes.
I should clarify that when I stated I was going to the mountain, this was not to go skiing. I mean, come on, skiing in Maryland in DECEMBER?!?! That's ridiculous. I was going for a hike in the beautiful Shenandoah mountains of Virginia. Here's another thing about Maryland, when I say I ski in Maryland, I don't mean I ski in Maryland. Maryland likes to claim Pennsylvania and Virginia Mountains as its own in situations like these. It's like that one kid in high school who drives a BMW to school and says it's THEIR car. Like, excuse me, it's not YOUR car. It's your PARENT'S car. Pipe down, dawg.
When I arrived at the trailhead, I was greeted with a pleasant layer of snow coating the trail. I was absolutely stoked. Maybe I could get some turns in after all. This was a hard-packed, icy layer of snow that delicately lined the trail. If you even attempted to walk on it downhill, you would promptly descend directly onto your bunda, where you would then be gifted a plum-toned ass (am I allowed to curse?) and a throbbing tailbone. Just splendid.
I like to play this game when I go on hikes in Maryland. I call it: If there was good coverage there, that would be SO metal!! Here's the concept… So you're on your normal hike, right? Then, you see this SICK ravine, or hill, or maybe a boulder. Here comes the fun part, you say to yourself in your head OR out loud, "if there was good coverage there, that would be SO metal!!" And that's the game.
Maryland tickles me pink, ladies and gentlemen.
I started my careful and slippery ascent up the mountain. I went up the mountain, had a sick view at the top, ate a nature valley bar, shook the pile of crumbs out of my shirt, and started my descent. As I made my descent, I found it. The most spectacular line you could ever find in the history of ever. The absolute Jessica Rabbit-like curvature of the bank was followed by a steep downhill of snow and ice that had rocks and mud wedged in its icy crevices. It looked like a peanut butter consistency smear of poo on a bunched-up roll of ½ ply toilet paper, which resulted after an absolute chow-down dinner of general Kung Pao's extra spicy Chicken. There was a perfect mound of dirt that would be perfect for a takeoff (rest in peace) to launch you over a dreamy stream. It was the perfect line. I was grinnin' like a possum eatin' a sweet tart.
I immediately whipped out my phone to share this marvelous line with my SSC brethren. It's safe to say that they were flummoxed, nay, mystified, nay, bewildered, nay, absolutely beyond puzzled by my devious catch of a line. I've never seen any group of people be in such awe over a line. After bragging about this Asgard-esc line and PROVING that Maryland has the best skiing known to man, I proudly strutted back to my car and said out loud for all the world to hear, "If there was good coverage there, that would be SO metal!!"
And that, my brothers and sisters, is a small taste of what skiing is like in Maryland.
Alan Misura ‘26