At the bottom, the queue for the poma is pretty short, and seeing the device, what mama explained to you suddenly makes more sense.
Like a ski lift it has a continuous cable going up and down the mountain, but instead of chairs there are there poles with black rubber disks on them. The lady running the poma grabs one before it gets to the skier and pulls on it. The pole then seems to stretch with that scratching metallic sound of a big spring before the skier slips it between their legs. Then they’re off up the hill.
Looking up the mountain, you realise the weather is clearing and you can see blue sky.
“First time?” the lady asks.
“Yeah,” you admit.
