“You think there’s a path through those woods?” he asked in his mild tentative voice when I got
near. Leper did not switch easily from one train of thought to another, and even though I was an
old friend whom he had not talked to in months I didn’t mind his taking me for granted now,
even at this improbable meeting in a wide, empty field of snow.
“I’m not sure, Leper, but I think there’s one at the bottom of the slope.”
“Oh yeah, I guess there is.” We always called him Leper to his face; he wouldn’t have
remembered to respond to any other name.
I couldn’t keep from staring at him, at the burlesque explorer look of him. “What are you,” I
asked at last, “um, what are you doing, anyway?”
“I’m touring.”
“Touring.” I examined the long bamboo ski poles he held. “How do you mean, touring?”
“Touring. It’s the way you get around the countryside in the winter. Touring skiing. It’s how you
go overland in the snow.”
“Where are you going?”
“Well, I’m not going anywhere.” He bent down to tighten the lacings on a puttee. “I’m just
touring around.”
“There’s that place across the river where you could ski. The place where they have the rope tow
on that steep hill across from the railroad station. You could go over there.”
“No, I don’t think so.” He surveyed the woods again, although his breath had fogged his glasses.
“That’s not skiing.”
“Why sure that’s skiing. It’s a good little run, you can get going pretty fast on that hill.”
“Yeah but that’s it, that’s why it isn’t skiing. Skiing isn’t supposed to be fast. Skis are for useful
locomotion.” He turned his inquiring eyes on me. “You can break a leg with that downhill stuff.”
“Not on that little hill.”
“Well, it’s the same thing. It’s part of the whole wrong idea. They’re ruining skiing in this
country, rope tows and chair lifts and all that stuff. You get carted up, and then you whizz down.
You never get to see the trees or anything. Oh you see a lot of trees shoot by, but you never get
to really look at trees, at a tree. I just like to go along and see what I’m passing and enjoy
myself.” He had come to the end of his thought, and now he slowly took me in, noticing my
layers of old clothes. “What are you doing, anyway?” he asked mildly and curiously.