Ski/Snowboard Weekend, Day 1

This weekend Jim and I had some out of towners stay with us for a ski/snowboard weekend. Our house just a couple of hours from some decent ski spots so rather than spend money on lodging, we invited our “computer friends,” as my mother likes to call them, to stay at our place.

Day 1 began much earlier than I’m used to starting anything. Lucky for me, Jim let me lay in bed and sleep as long as possible while he fed the animals, made coffee, and cooked breakfast for all four of us. After we were all sufficiently fed and awake, we loaded the car and headed out.

That first day we stayed close to home. Jim had to drive the kids up to their mother’s for the weekend, so driving Really Far Away didn’t make much sense. We skiied at Nakiska that first day. Because Nakiska is only an hour from home, it tends to be just as warm or just as cold as Calgary. In our case, it was just as warm. Don’t get me wrong – the sun was great. Snowboarding in the super extreme cold isn’t fun at all, but the sun also causes stuff to warm up – snow tends to melt. Parts of the runs were sludgy, other parts were lumpy ice events.

I spent the day alone most of thursday. I started out in the beginner section. This is a small, slightly inclined patch of snow, fed by a magic carpet (ski language for a moving sidewalk for our Hawai`i readers) on the left, and a t-bar on the right. I learned last year to stay away from the t-bar, so being that today the magic carpet wasn’t running, I was left with the option of walking to to the top of the “baby hill.” (I call it the baby hill only out of frustration with the fact that little kids can master these supposed “beginner areas” in no time, while I am *still* unable to ride an entire tow line up.)

Being from an island where skiing doesn’t happen, I never understood why you cannot just walk up a hill and board down. Now I get it. It’s hard enough work coming down the hill – it’s not like you just stand on a board and ride down. You have to steer it and make sure the front edge doesn’t drop into the snow, and keep the board from falling off into a ditch that could possibly lead to China. After working for an hour or so at the baby hill, I had accomplished two things: Walking up the hill over and over again is frustrating and tiresome, so I was convinced that I HAD to get over my fear of chairlifts*. And I pretty much mastered the getting up, which is something you don’t realize is hard to do until you get yourself on a board and try it. Think about it. Both feet are strapped to a board. In boots. No independent movement. On snow that isn’t grippy. I mean, the board is designed to SLIDE on the snow, not stick to it. The last time we went boarding I was only able to get up to a standing position from my knees. This *is* the easier way to get up, but I’ve since unravelled the mystery of getting up from sitting on my butt. Useful, because of course, you don’t always fall down to a kneeling position.

As a sidenote, the lady on the Lake Louise PA system just paged someone, “Damien Something, please report to ski school. Damien, please go to ski school.” I’m sure she didn’t mean it the way I heard it, but it sounded to me like this guy’s skiing is so bad, the hill is ordering him to take a class. These are the crazy things you think when you’re learning to snowboard.

It was time for a loftier goal. The guys appeared and I suggested we go down towards the little hill that begins just after the Olympic Chair. This little hill is good for a couple of reasons – it eventually emerges at the Bronze Lift. Now, the Bronze lift is a pretty short lift that goes up to some easy green runs. So in theory I figured that if I could get down to the Bronze Lift, I could possibly get on the lift and come down an actual run. And secondly, it isn’t facing the lodge like the baby hill, so even if I never did get to the Bronze lift, I’d at least get to practice without the audience.

Less than a couple of scoots from the top, I fell. Frustrated, I told the others to go on without me again. I spent a bunch of time riding down the short hill and walking back up, sitting down, restrapping the board back on, and rolling back down the hill. A some point I thought I was making progress and chanced a venture further down, hoping to make my way to that ellusive Bronze Lift. But it wasn’t to be. I got discouraged at an icy patch and decided to walk back up the hill again. That’s pretty much all the progress I made on thursday. After lunch I decided I was beat and sat in the lodge working on a knitting project. Photos of that to come.

*The first time we went boarding, we bought ourselves a 90 minute lesson which consisted of basic maneuvers, but also included, “Okay, now let’s go to the skilift.” So we go on this thing which is very very high and moves much faster than I want it to, and did I mention this was the first time that I’d been on a skilift? Or even seen one up close? So then the way it works (again, for our readers in Hawai`i) is you unbuckle your back foot from the board and ride to the lift with just one foot strapped in. You kind of skate over to the lift line/entrance, and wait for the people in front of you to get on the chair. Then you scoot up to the mounting line, position yourself so that when the chair comes around, you’re able to sit right into it, and hop in when it’s time. There’s a bar that comes down, but it’s not a locking bar, and no one really cares whether you use it or not, and if you were into suicidal recklessness, you could just plunge to your death in the middle of the lift ride. I just try not to look down.

At the end of the ride you’re supposed to turn a little sideways, so your board is straight, put your feet down, stand up, and skate down a small ramp. So this first time on the lift, I’m at the end, preparing to get off. The instructor had us each ride in our own chairs, because if you don’t know what you’re doing, having other people on with you can be a little crowding. Approaching the end, I’m watching the “jump point” and readying myself for it, not really sure when the best time to jump might be. Staring at the ground, I noticed the space between me and it growing wider and I realized I had waited too long. So THEN I jumped. Needless to say it was a long drop and I fell. So now I’m left with an irrational fear of the chairlift.

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