Sink or Skim

Each spring, skiers—or at least those with little self-restraint—measure their mettle in horizontal rather than vertical feet. The ubiquitous pond-skimming contest is an honored end-of-season ritual—and a handy excuse for cross-dressing.
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Each spring, skiers—or at least those with little self-restraint—measure their mettle in horizontal rather than vertical feet. The ubiquitous pond-skimming contest is an honored end-of-season ritual—and a handy excuse for cross-dressing.
Sink or Skim

Each spring, skiers—or at least those with little self-restraint—measure their mettle in horizontal rather than vertical feet. The rest of us are unapologetic enablers, cheering them on as they try—mostly in vain—to cross open water on one board or two. The ubiquitous pond-skimming contest is an honored end-of-season ritual—and a handy excuse for cross-dressing. Rules and regulations vary, but skimming distance is secondary to skimming style. Vail dubs its contest the World Championships; Okemo, Vt., hosts its annual Slush Cup; but no one does it flashier than Montana’s Big Sky Resort (shown), where organizers dream up innovative pond configurations each year to keep skimmers on their toes. Last spring, they built two ponds separated by a three-foot snowbank. Pull out your 1985 hot-pink speed suit and give it a shot April 10.