I had been coveting some new kicker skins to enhance my vertically challenged local hill and so when I saw the TT's thread about waxing it occured to me. I got into kick waxing some old telemark skis years ago before I bought a pair of waxless skis. I still have the blue, green, and violet Swix kick wax as well as a tube of universal klister. I stumbled across the whole kit the other day looking for a gummi stone. Like electricity and a light bulb the idea was united with the materials. Now I just needed a little more knowledge about how to administer the wax so I brushed up on my kick wax knowledge searching a few websites.

Yesterday I was on volunteer ski patrol duty at my local ski hill. It was a pretty good day and a couple of old salts showed me some new stashes I enjoyed immensely. We all debated whether or not to give it an early start today but everyone else bailed. I had a leisurely coffee this morning and decided I'd give the kick wax idea a try, my research had actually led me to decide that the universal klister would be the way to go for the very warm snow we got yesterday. Under the pretty ideal conditions at my bench the klister went on pretty easily, maybe too easily. I was even a bit smug that I didn't get the snot textured syrup all over myself, the top sheet, or the bench.

I arrived at the hill and was ready for the miracle that would be like skins on the way up and a race tuned glide waxed sksi on the way down. I plowed up the first pitch and was at first pretty impressed with the traction. The first hint of what was to come was that when the traction failed it really failed. Like I just stepped on a banana peel type fail. I started zigging and zagging sticking with the original plan of giving the klister a go. Eventually it was just too steep and I was slipping too much. No biggie I had my skins. The first pitch I skied the glide wasn't too bad. I think it was steep and deep enough that the snow freezing onto the klister didn't slow me down too terribly bad. I ripped the skins and headed over to the lift for my second run of the day pretty excited to see how the skis were going to perform up a little higher on the hill.

While skating across a cat track the first serious sign of something awry popped up. I turned the corner to enter the maze and noticed that each foot was heaped in icy patches on top of the klister. I beat them hard against a well frozen bit of corduroy and they disappeared. I ignored this first sign much to my chagrin down the road.

I topped out on the lift and immediately plowed over this short powder climb that leads to a traverse above a cornice. The skis were climbing okay again, not great, but with some route selection and switch backs it was doable. I popped out on top of the ridge to skate down to the safer part of the pitch and noticed I wasn't gliding at all. In fact it felt a little like snowshoeing. Finally it was starting to register that making turns was going to be difficult to say the least.

The first really poor omen had to have been when my hat got picked up off my head and blown down the slope. Chase wasn't even a consideration on my 180 cm snowshoes. I stripped off my skis and scraped them hard with the edge of the other hoping to rid them of ice and hopefully a little of the klister as well. It was a foolish wish as the evil side of the klister began to shine. Before this little mission was over that shit was everywhere - my ski pants, shirt, gloves, backpack, the top sheet, the edges were caked up - it wouldn't surprise me if I had some in my ass crack. I felt like it was multiplying in volume beneath my weary gaze. Immediately after popping back into the bindings the skis were snow balls. It was easy to recover my cap as I walked right out into the middle of the pitch I had planned to ski.

I trooped over to some trees to reevaluate and scrape the skis again. This time one of the g3 targa heel throws disintegrated. Fortunately, maybe for the first time ever, I actually had a repair kit in my pack. I went to pull my shovel hoping the edge of the shovel blade would make a better scraper and flustered my hand slipped, and I dropped it down the entire face of the pitch. Sweet. Another try at scraping the ski with the other ski and off the face I went. In this circumstance the klister did actually perform just like skins. Of course I couldn't get them off, but it was just like skiing in skins. It was a long slog out of course. Destined not to let the day be a total loss I rode the lift a few more times hoping that the groomed would take some of the klister off. It was a little like skiing drunk. I never knew if I was going to slide or stick unless I got way back on the tails then I flew. Literally I flew onto my ass. I should be pouring some booze into myself right now to ease my bumps and bruises and that's just my ego - some ice and ibuprofin should take care of my ass.