RITE of PASSAGE

My first moment of panic came when I stood up in ski boots for the first time. I’d expected some level of ineptitude on my part on the first day of ski lessons, but I nearly fell into a bench before I even took a step. Pride would have asked me to quit then and there had I fallen before I even stepped into skis for the first time. With forced, graceless steps I left the Base Lodge at Whitefish Mountain Resort and into the snow.

SINCE MOVING to Whitefish in the summer, I’ve experienced the wonders of Glacier National Park, the fear of encountering a grizzly on the trail, the solitude of trout fishing on the North Fork on a misty morning. The one rite of passage I’ve been nervously avoiding, though, is skiing.

In Wisconsin, where I spent 22 of my 23 years, my options for skiing were limited. The sport was not a priority for my family or any of my friends growing up, and I never thought twice about it. I got bored sledding down the soft hills of the golf course near my house, so I didn’t ever feel like I was missing much.

When I moved to Whitefish, however, I quickly discovered the almost religious enthusiasm that exists here for “the mountain.” It was intimidating; I felt I’d never catch up or even afford to get started.

But like other activities new to me in Montana, I knew I’d regret never trying.

On a February morning, I dressed myself in what seemed to be the most appropriate clothes for skiing and drove up windy Big Mountain Road to meet Riley Polumbus, public relations manager for Whitefish Mountain Resort, at the Base Lodge. She got me started with the resort’s Ski & Ride adult beginner’s program, handing me my lift ticket and taking me to get my rental gear.

The program started in 2009 with the intention of providing a full, two-day skiing or snowboarding experience at roughly the cost of a normal lift ticket, Director of the Ski & Snowboard School Bill Cubbage said. Since then, the program has also added discounts for graduates and a similar one-day program for downhill mountain biking on the mountain that began last summer.

Convincing newcomers that the sport isn’t as expensive as they’ve heard is a big part of what the resort is trying to do with the program, he noted.

“Skiing and snowboarding has been looked at by the general marketplace as unaffordable in a lot of respects,” Bill told me. “In many ways, it’s very affordable.”

The package comes with two days of rentals, beginner lift tickets and two-hour lessons with one of the program’s 72 instructors. About 1,700 people signed up for the program last season, and the feedback the resort has received has been overwhelmingly positive.

“I think we have one of the best offerings in the country, to be honest,” Bill said. “We’ll make good on our promise to teach them and deliver.”

ONCE I got my rental gear we headed outside. Between the awkward gait caused by the boots or my poor attempt to correctly hold the skis like I’d seen in a YouTube video the night before, I must have been an amusing sight.

Riley took me to the beginner’s lesson meeting area near the Base Lodge, where I met Meg Sedgwick, my instructor for the next two days.

Meg is also from Wisconsin, but unlike me, she grew up near a resort and learned to ski at the age of 16. Until moving to Whitefish four years ago, she worked as a ski patroller at Sunburst Winter Sports Park, just north of her hometown of West Bend. Now she teaches at Whitefish Mountain and works as a backcountry patroller on the mountain.

Also in my group were Memphis natives Hunter and David. The three of us spoke little throughout the lessons, mostly because we were too concerned with what to do with the strips of fiberglass, carbon fiber and wood attached to our feet.

On the first day we covered the very basics: getting into and out of the skis, how to stop, how to turn, how to ride the Big Easy Carpet and, by the end, how to safely get on and off a chair lift, something I’d been strangely anxious about. We ended the first lesson on Under Easy on Chair 9, making a few runs before our lesson ended.

Meg offered memorable advice in the form of food and drink references: a snow plow is a pizza, and keeping your hands up around your waist is holding a tray, which eventually carried imaginary mugs of beer. We learned to stop, but we were starving by the end of the lesson.

For Meg, the fun part is seeing things finally click for a student. For me, that moment was on the first day, when I could finally control the direction I wanted to go.

“When you see someone and their lights are turning on and they’re like, ‘I’m starting to get this, this is pretty cool.’ Then they start to pick up speed and they feel that freedom,” she said. “It’s fun to introduce people to that.”

I was proud of myself for managing to stay upright during the first lesson. Despite taking some spills after a few more trips up Chair 9 following the lesson, I walked away from the day feeling great about skiing.

“I finally did it,” I thought to myself. “I can be a good skier in no time.”

THE SECOND lesson ended with less optimism.

To start, we returned to Chair 9 and skied fresh powder, but by the end of the day there was a light drizzle and a cloud of warm fog on the mountain, both of which were totally new conditions for us. The ease I’d found in turning the day before was gone, and I spent the next two hours over thinking everything. I went from falling just a few times the day before to at least a dozen times on day two.

I fell on Over Easy. I fell on Huckleberry Patch. I fell trying to stop in front of Chair 6. At one point I might have even fallen getting off Chair 6, though I’d never admit to that. It was frustrating and more in line with what I’d expected from myself at the beginning.

In that second lesson we reviewed everything we’d covered the day before, starting at Chair 9 again and working our way over to Chair 6. We covered Huckleberry Patch and Chipmunk, practicing parallel stops, skiing backwards and turning all the way around. I fell a lot during that too.

We concluded the second day with a few runs down Chipmunk, which, for the most part, went pretty well. Unlike the day before, when I wanted to ski all afternoon, I was ready to be done by noon. I turned my rental gear in, got my frequent skier pass and went home for a much-needed hot shower.

THE VERDICT: it was a great experience and I’m glad I went. When I felt “on,” it was fantastic, like during the first day, and while I was frustrated on the second day, I still had a good time. I certainly wouldn’t compare myself to any of the more graceful skiers I saw on the mountain, but I look forward to working my way up to their level.

But the point of the program, Bill reminded me, is to at the very least get someone started with “something that is hopefully a lifelong pursuit” by learning at their own pace.

“As soon as you’re on skis, you’re a skier,” he said.

I’ll take his word for it.

But no matter what, I’ve crossed off one more rite of passage for living in Whitefish.