Dodging Bullets for The Ski Adventure of A Lifetime
   By E.C. PHILLIPS

     Most people don’t know that there is any snow in Lebanon. Turns out, besides religious fundamentalists, the other thing Lebanon has a lot of is the white stuff we like to slide down.   

     Our hotel at The Cedars, Lebanon's most remote ski resort, reminded me of a cross between "The Shining" and "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas." It looked like the hotel from Jack Nicholson's red-rum days with the bonus achievement of the power having just gone out.

     I looked at my partner for that adventure, Mike, and wondered if he could become a deranged psycho-killer. After all, we were in the remote wilderness of a country accustomed to violence with fifteen foot snowbanks to hide the body in, and he kept looking at me strangely. He could be back in America before they discovered my remains.

   The Cedars had a supernatural chill at night even when the power was on. There was the silence, but also there was the feeling that dark and desperate things had happened there. A John LeCarre or Graham Greene Character would have been comfortable in that setting.

     Though in theory the place was organized for tourists, the few tourists who had begun to creep into Lebanon had not made it that far yet. And by that far, I mean a mere three hour public bus trip.  On our way up to The Cedars, we passed through the small town of Bcharre, perched on the edge of the deep Qadisha Gorge. As we passed though the town, the spired churches and red roofed houses heightened the feeling of gothic glamour.

     Finally, we reached The Cedars and were chagrined to find the complete lack of anything besides two or three rundown hotels and huge snowbanks punctuated by wrecked cars. While there was the triumph of having found the only ski resort in the universe with no tourists, we wondered where we were going to get food and what we were going to do until the next day when we planned to go skiing. 

      The Cedars is named for, as you might guess, a cedar grove that grows there. Once, before they logged the hell out of Lebanon, there were many cedar trees. They are the national symbol, prominently feature on Lebanon’s flag. Recently, the Lebanese realized that most of the cedars were gone and that they’d either have to change their flag or save the few trees that were left.

      So, high up in the mountains, in a place that is seemly about the treeline, the cedars still stand in a lonely grove hemmed in by big snowdrifts for the majority of the winter months. I gaved longingly at the beautiful fur trees, but I couldn't walk among them because of the eight and ten foot drifts that barred me from reaching the little forest.