M@
04-27-2003, 11:13 PM
Tuckerman
Yet Another Ode
Five years ago, on a whim I took a hike,
to a mountainside place, my friends said I might like.
I took my skis and some water, and my fiancé,
I left her on the deck while I skied the highway.
That was '98 and it felt real fine,
The hike wasn't bad, I think we brought some wine.
I told all my friends it was the place to be,
And they told me next time that they'd come with me.
The very next year I hit the trail with Mike.
We decided to camp, so it was a 60 pound hike.
We brought a tent and the like, cause I didn't know better.
I slept under the stars in a turtle neck sweater.
The weather that year was as good as could be,
Shorts and shades, I was wearing a T
We hiked up the lip, but not over the edge
To the base of the chute, but stopped at the ledge.
After that trip, I was hooked; that was it.
Every year around March, no matter what I'd get the itch.
Throw my gear in my pack, duct tape the skis
If the wife had plans, I'd beg and plead.
The next year I heard a sax, from the heights playing a tune
After hiking up 60 pounds by the light of the moon.
There was snoring that year, and I didn't sleep a wink,
But my friends were there, and I'd had a bit to drink.
I started telling everyone, and begging them to come,
Assuming the weather would provide us lots of sun.
But it was cold the next time, and the time after that
But Leslie was there, and the bacon was fat.
The last time I went, I did it alone.
There was no snoring, and no saxophone.
No friends, no family, no Suzy to be seen:
Just me and my skis, and Tuckerman Ravine.
That year I skied over the lip, and though the wind was listless
as I began the descent, I was really scared.. a lot
I've found it's a place that's a lot like a friend,
whose face is familiar, but whose attitude may bend.
You know what to expect, because you've seen them before,
but sometimes you find yourself lying on the floor.
I don't know why I go, I've tried to understand
It's personal, but yet, I share it with my friends.
I think it's the look, shared with a stranger on the deck
you both know what's in store, and now you're friends well met.
Often I will see someone, lost in a thought
Imagining a beach perhaps, and sand that is hot.
But with me, if I appear lost in a daydream,
I'll be standing at the top of Tuckerman Ravine.
M@
Yet Another Ode
Five years ago, on a whim I took a hike,
to a mountainside place, my friends said I might like.
I took my skis and some water, and my fiancé,
I left her on the deck while I skied the highway.
That was '98 and it felt real fine,
The hike wasn't bad, I think we brought some wine.
I told all my friends it was the place to be,
And they told me next time that they'd come with me.
The very next year I hit the trail with Mike.
We decided to camp, so it was a 60 pound hike.
We brought a tent and the like, cause I didn't know better.
I slept under the stars in a turtle neck sweater.
The weather that year was as good as could be,
Shorts and shades, I was wearing a T
We hiked up the lip, but not over the edge
To the base of the chute, but stopped at the ledge.
After that trip, I was hooked; that was it.
Every year around March, no matter what I'd get the itch.
Throw my gear in my pack, duct tape the skis
If the wife had plans, I'd beg and plead.
The next year I heard a sax, from the heights playing a tune
After hiking up 60 pounds by the light of the moon.
There was snoring that year, and I didn't sleep a wink,
But my friends were there, and I'd had a bit to drink.
I started telling everyone, and begging them to come,
Assuming the weather would provide us lots of sun.
But it was cold the next time, and the time after that
But Leslie was there, and the bacon was fat.
The last time I went, I did it alone.
There was no snoring, and no saxophone.
No friends, no family, no Suzy to be seen:
Just me and my skis, and Tuckerman Ravine.
That year I skied over the lip, and though the wind was listless
as I began the descent, I was really scared.. a lot
I've found it's a place that's a lot like a friend,
whose face is familiar, but whose attitude may bend.
You know what to expect, because you've seen them before,
but sometimes you find yourself lying on the floor.
I don't know why I go, I've tried to understand
It's personal, but yet, I share it with my friends.
I think it's the look, shared with a stranger on the deck
you both know what's in store, and now you're friends well met.
Often I will see someone, lost in a thought
Imagining a beach perhaps, and sand that is hot.
But with me, if I appear lost in a daydream,
I'll be standing at the top of Tuckerman Ravine.
M@