We are well into the month of December, and although our legs and lungs are strong with hours and hours of rollerski training, we, the members of the Skitanic Berserkergang, are in desperate need of on-snow time.
We climbed to the summit of Mt. Poko-moonshine, a small Adirondack peak named after the Iroquois word “poquimoosi” meaning “to leave the longhouse and travel to the beacon of rock from which the thunderbird asked the great spirit to cry his frozen white tears and is the finish line for the Patch Sprint.”
From there we called to the heavens, “O Great Spirit, have pity on us who stands humbly before thee. Let our clan spirit or a sign from beyond the thunderbird come to us before tomorrow’s sunrise” As we called to the great spirit, the wind suddenly veered from east too north, and snow clouds amassed in the western sky. This cheered us because the wind was now the wind of the great bear, and we smelled for the first time the unmistakable odor of a bear: this is strong medicine. As we gazed out into the dismal wilderness we heard the wail of the wind and felt the fierce breath of the wind from the north. Suddenly a vision came to us, and a gigantic bear stood beside us. Then we heard it say, “Listen well, Peru Nordiques. Your clan spirit has heard your prayer. Tomorrow you will go on a quest for the a great mystery which will bring help and gladness to all your people.” A terrible clash of thunder knocked us to the ground as the bear disappeared. Was this the sign from the thunderbird?
Thus the Quest for Snow begins…