Its quiet on Hero Rock in the summer.
Hero Rock didnt always have a name.
It was deposited here eons ago as the glaciers receded.
Most of its history is monotonous, with a few snippets of excitement.
The bear was fine, but it lived out its days with a limp.
Their lives were short though, and the rock never really changed.
His skis were long and heavy, bent alder, and his boots were leather.
He slashed smooth turns past the rock, fully buried in snow.
He didnt know it but he was the first in a long line of many.
Then one summer the quiet drainage exploded into life.
They dug and blasted holes, hauled in towers, strung cables, gladed run after run.
The rock basked in the sun, wondering what these changes meant.
That winter was different.
Usually, the rock drowsed through winter, serene in his drainage.
But this year the skiers just kept coming.
He could see them staring at him as they rode the lift, eyeing him for size.
Theyd stop a turn above him, sometimes tangling in the bushes and then steel themselves for the leap.
There are two main lines off Hero Rock, and a third, bonus.
The second option is for the faint of heart.
The final line is the bonus, for experienced skiers tired of the too-flat landing off the nose.
This line takes you out about 20 feet further and adds another 15 to the height of the air.
The rock knows all these lines because its seen all of them, over and over again.
The rock has seen the lift hecklers talk reluctant snowboarders into leaving the ground for the first time.
Summers are still quiet at Hero Rock but now the whole drainage looks forward to winter.
The lifts will kick off and the mayhem of skiers and riders skidding off the rock will return.
The rock hears it all, but he doesnt care.
And thats enough, after all, its just a rock.
