By Dick Butler

August 6, 2004

I roll over, open my eyes and listen. I see the treetops through the high windows in my bedroom. They’re still. The forecast calls for sun, no wind, with temps in the low eighties. Its 7AM, its late-July, and the sun is shining. Perfect! The phone rings. We’re on. They’ll be four of us, Bill, Brian, his wife Michelle, and me. We’ll meet at the marina in one hour and ski. We’ll go home well before noon, shaking from exhaustion, all with smiles on our faces, ready for the rest of the day.

The boat is hitched and full of gas. I check my mental list; a wet suit, skis, ropes, and other paraphernalia unique to water skiing; line release, life jackets, boat key, binding soap, gloves, single trick ski, barefoot boom, barefoot line, and towels. The boat cover comes off. I fold and store it. I check to make sure the hull plug is screwed in pIace, and connect the trailer lights.

My pride and joy, a Ski Nautique is kept in the backyard, high and dry. It only gets launched for its sole purpose: skiing. Blue and white, it is shiny, sleek and clean. It purrs like a kitten, and roars like a lion. While it is stored in a barn all winter long, there is nary a day that goes by, even a powder day, that I don’t think of it. October to June is too long to wait, were it not for skiing on snow.

The Hudson River is only six miles from my house. Between Stillwater and Schuylerville there are twelve miles of the smoothest most undiscovered water around between locks of the Champlain Canal.

Brian is first. He needs the calmest water for bare-footing, before other boats start playing or the wind starts to roughen the surface. It’s a hoot to watch, a challenge to do, and fun to drive for. He lays at the end of the line as it draws tight, boat idling, his legs outstretched and wrapped around the towline. He thrusts his head back below the water surface. This is the signal for the boat to pick up speed rapidly as he completes his “deep water start”. The speeds are fast, in excess of 37 mile per hour, and the falls spectacular, for all but the participant. He takes two quick passes, each about one quarter mile long, one forward and one backward, crossing the wakes, and occasionally lifting a foot. There are no falls this day for Brian.

“Bare footing, its been said, is the closest thing to flying without leaving the surface of the earth.”

Michelle is up. She has learned to “foot” by starting in a sitting position on a wake-board. This is an easy way to learn. The boat starts slowly, picking up speed, while she slowly places her feet in the water, stands to a low crouch and rides just outside the wake for the calmest water. Each time she rides she is able to ride further, more relaxed and confident. Bare footing, its been said, is the closest thing to flying without leaving the surface of the earth. This morning, we all agree.

The sun is high and bright by now, and more sunscreen is passed around. We turn off the engine and just sit and enjoy the view and the stillness. It’s analogous to riding the chairlift between runs; catching ones breath and joking with friends.

Its Bills turn. He’s been hooked on trick skiing for the past two summers. With two short wide skis each with no rudder, he is perfecting 360-degree turns in each direction, both inside and outside of the wake, and raising one ski while skiing backwards. Just the opposite of footing, trick skiing happens at slow speeds, below 20 miles per hour. His smile is a mile wide after completing 5 turns in a row, flawlessly. Falls can be frequent, but easy on the body, not like footing.

I go last. Brian drives. Trick skiing is my focus also, but on one trick ski. I need a precise speed and he is a great driver. The trick release is for me. It disconnects the line should I start falling and protects me from being caught in the rope and dragged. Bill will man the release. I spend two sessions of fifteen minutes each practicing tricks with names like toehold turns, helicopters, step-overs, and wake 180’s. I fall attempting my second step-over (a turn where the free foot passes over the line). I can’t achieve consistency with this trick today.

Few recreational skiers take this sport as seriously as our group. It’s demanding, tough, and its pleasures are short lived, but long remembered. Each of us has taken our thirty-minute turn on the water, and our muscles are taxed. It will take my aging body at least two days to recover. But it is worth every little ache, ten times over, especially on a day like this one.

We make plans for the next morning that our schedules allow. There are only 12 – 14 weeks of comfortable weather for skiing on water in the northeast. We must make the most of it.