Before my mind turns to other pursuits of a cross-county/Nordic skiing nature, it seems like a good idea to document the remaining third (or so) of the Anhalt-Zerbst Regiment. Here they are.
Amazingly, I had the foresight tto basecoat and apply the basic fleshtone to these too at some point during the autumn months before stowing them in one of my clear acrylic boxes where various painting projects reside in full fiew on a shelf above my painting table. They are thus fully visible and in mind but protected from dust, feline paws, errant teen-aged fingers, and the like.
Not touching Dad's things seems to be a skill that has been really difficult for the Young Master to internalize. Ahem.
Returning to the point at hand, the eagle-eyed among you will notice that the two standard bearers and an NCO have yet to receive their acrylic Quaker Gray-Gesso basecoat mix. Must drill out their hands first and glue the various staves into place you understand.
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The following is assorted blather about skiing, so I'll forgive you if that's not quite your cup of tea, and you bow out. Otherwise, keep reading. . .
But in the meantime, I've got a few pairs of skis to first brush down and then apply various grip and glide waxes followed by scraping off the excess glide wax and another process of brushing down with brass or steel and horsehair plus polish with nylon brushes. It sounds involved, but there is a delightful zen of sorts to this activity too. Something I look forward to doing a few times each winter.
The only tricky part in all of this is getting the grip wax right in the kick zone of classic skis, since that depends of snow type, condition, and temperature on any given day. It can be a hit or miss affair, so I always have a back-up pair of so called waxless skin skis in the ol' tote bag just in case. These still need glide wax on the tip and tails, but the kick zone of the ski base features a synthetic mohair skin to grip the snow when you do the little hop and pop with each foot in an alternating pattern to propel yourself forward across flats up slight inclines.
I can see your eyes glazing over though, so I'll switch gears for a moment. ;-)
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On a related note, I've thought ahead (amazing, I know) to my teaching schedule for next year too and shifted class meetings to Tuesday and Thursday. Any Friday meetings that crop up will be handled via my iphone using Zoom or Teams. Problem solved. That means, at least in theory, that I'll be able to enjoy a few slightly longer 3.5 or 4-day weekends up at our preferred place in Northern Michigan, the outstanding Forbush Corner Nordic/Cross-Country Ski Center during the December-March season here.
There are. admittedly, several other such XC ski places in the area too -- a snowbelt highland -- also with many kilometers of groomed and ungroomed trails to explore. And we have done so, to a degree, the last four or five years. But the problem comes in having the time to explore new areas, or revisit old friends like Forbush, which is already so amazing.
Easily one of the best XC ski areas in the Midwest and certainly comparable to other favorites in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, nearby Ontario, and even Norway. Although in a good year, it's hard to compete with the sheer number and length of well groomed municipal trail systems outside of and around many Norwegian towns and cities.
Those around Trondheim, for instance, are simply amazing. And they all interconnect somehow, some way. Sounds like that old Marshall Crenshaw tune. But I digress. One could ski for several seasons there without repeating a route. A shame I was not a strong enough skier 25 years ago to explore it thoroughly, but the trails around where I lived southwest of the city center kept me busy enough.
Now, some are of the opinion that cross-country skiing is boring and slow. Quite the contrary. The sport can be as technical and challenging or as laid back as you want it to be. A couple of lessons with certified instructors each year will help. You just have to get comfortable with the idea of occasional face-plants. Everyone falls from time to time. Even the coaches (Seen it!). And the stories of my own wipe-outs that I could relate! But we'll leave that for another time.
This year, I'm thinking though of revisiting (and maybe conquering?) my nemeses, the black diamond runs at Forbush. Four trails in particular that go by the names of: Rollercoaster, Screamer, Crybaby, and Dead Man's Drop. Challenge doesn't quite describe it. And looking down the last one from the top will psyche you out fast.
See you on the trails!
-- Stokes
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