Spankin' New

While up in B.C., a friend and I tried what is benignly termed "skate skiing." THEY say, if you can ice skate, you can skate ski. I say, hogwash. It was far more difficult than regular cross country skiing, and in very little way resembled ice skating, which I learned to do shortly after I began to walk. We tried, heaven knows, we tried, for three hours, to emulate the lean lycra-clad beings who zipped by us, skate skiing. We couldn't obtain a lesson, as the instructor, Savio, was fully booked on New Year's Eve day. I waggishly enquired if Fabio was available, but alas... So we were on our own. Ah, well, we earned our delightful dinner that night, a boulliabaise chockful of all manner of delectable items, as well as a host of wonderful side dishes and sufficient amounts of champagne. The youngsters who had spent all day at Whistler/Blackcomb struggled to stay awake until midnight, but we elders were bright-eyed and cheery as we ushered in '007.
We spent a couple of hours on New Year's Day swimming, hot-tubbing, and some went into the sauna at the Squamish public pool; I messed around on the "Sky Ladder", a contraption the lifeguards lower over the deep end upon request, which involves climbing hand-over-hand up a knotted rope out of the water to a double wooden monkeybar/ladder set-up, which I went through and around a couple times until reason argued that if I did it one more time, I might dislocate something; great fun.
We decided we wanted to conquer skate skiing somehow, but we'll see if we get out again this winter. Brute strength I can still do to some extent, but I'm wondering if acquiring more technique is too much to expect.