My body is complaining at not only being upright at this time of day, but dressed and leaning drunkenly on my skis. Melting sleet is sliding off the lenses of my goggles onto my nose. Marianne and Joe occasionally talk to me. I try not to open my mouth.
"Rise and shine!" says a nearby snowboarder to his mate.
You rise, I think sourly. You shine.
This, then, is Fresh Tracks. A stroke of genius or the work of the devil, depending on whether or not you're a morning person: for $18 you can join 649 other committed skiers and boarders for an early morning ride up the mountain, as much bacon and waffles as you can eat, and first crack at empty trails before everyone else is out of bed.
It's popular this morning: some people are going to be disappointed. Fresh snow on a Saturday morning guarantees that half of Vancouver heads for the hills. Despite my grump at the crowds invading 'my' mountain, the early hour, the lack of caffeine, I can't help but feel a thrill. In the queue, there's talk of 20cm of fresh snow and 40mph winds at the top.
They were wrong. There's nearer 30cm of fresh snow, and the wind is gusting at 50mph plus - enough to blow you off your feet. After filling ourselves with tea, coffee, and a hot breakfast drenched in maple syrup, we head out with a touch of trepidation. It's Joe's last morning - his shuttle leaves for the airport at 3pm - so we're determined to make the most of it.
And so we did. I've learned that on days like this, half of everything I learned in ski school is null and void. You lean back instead of forward, to keep your ski tips above the silky snow, stay loose and relaxed to absorb the bumps, and keep a constant eye out for any opportunity to make your own tracks. All this with the wind howling around your head and driven snow rattling off your helmet.
After four hours of ripping it up, we waved Joe off at lunchtime before heading back up for yet more punishment. Big crowds and blizzard conditions made for a challenging day, but I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
On Sunday, we got down with the kids. Marianne's aunt Nina, uncle Martin and cousins Eleanor and Alex finally arrived, and we enjoyed a gentler day with them as they found their ski legs and got over their jetlag. Mike and Lucy joined us too; the weather had, temporarily, relented.
Which brings us to today, Monday. I opened the blinds at 7.30am to find every tree branch groaning under a huge clump of snow, with more still falling - in three weeks, we'd never seen so much at such low altitude. It boded well, and ill - as on Saturday, the high lifts and avalanche-prone areas were likely to stay shut, with winds at the peaks gusting to 60mph.
Nevertheless, 9am found Marianne and I on the chairlift with gloves strapped tight and face masks on in anticipation of another inclement day. And, as first Blackcomb and then Whistler hurled everything they had at us over the next six hours, we lapped it up. The crowds had thinned since Saturday, while the snow had deepened still further; the two of us were able to cover more mileage than the bigger groups of recent days. It was technically demanding, exhausting and intermittently scary; it was also one of the very best days of the Odyssey. I can barely stand.
Putting the skiing aside for a moment, let's go back to Friday, 11 February. An historic day: the first time I have ever taken a day off from skiing. Marianne and I decided to widen our horizons, get a better feel for the history of our temporary home, so paid a visit to Whistler's Aboriginal Museum. We learned a little about the native peoples of the area, the Squamish and Lilwat Nations, about their beautiful art and spectacular wood-carving and jewellery skills. We learned how their languages were passed by word of mouth only until as recently as the 1970s, when written versions were developed. And we learned how they're defined by their relationship with the land and its other inhabitants: bear, wolf, eagle, raven, salmon.
Our precious days are beginning to dwindle, but the apartment's owner has graciously granted us a stay of execution: on Saturday, the day we leave, he's agreed to let us have the place until 2pm, which means we can ski in the morning.
That will be Day 27. For now, Day 23 awaits. And before that, a little Valentines Day downtime...
No comments:
Post a Comment