Two planks and Jaffa with no juice

Isaac didn't win anything at the party - our friend Pat won a go at parasailing and Naomi won a heli skiing trip, which would be absolutely super if Naomi could ski well enough (she's a newbie) - and he came home complaining that he didn't like alcohol after all, but I think he had a good enough time.

I went skiing today with Isaac and Pat! Well they were snowboarding, but the visibility was virtually nil and I didn't want to spend the day falling over so I hired some nice skis - K2 Silencers - from our rentals department and had a brilliant day. It felt so good to get some speed up without panicking, so nice to be able to absorb whatever came up underfoot, even if I couldn't see it, and amazing to be able to rip down the blacks. It reminded me just how much I loved being on the snow, and how much fun it can be. I will carry on with my snowboarding, and I know I'll get better the more miles I do, but it's nice to know I can take time out of being a rookie and feel confident again.

We've had a bit of a run of bad luck with Jaffa though - the other night we went to start her up and she was dead as a dodo. Fortunately our friend Mark was over so he gave us a jump start and we drove around for half an hour or so before returning to our flat, switched it off and went to start it again - dead again. So yesterday morning I called the AA* - this being a small town, it was the same (English) guy who 'jumped me' a few weeks ago, as it were, when I had to replace one of the battery terminals. We got her started and we drove around for half an hour or so before going down to the AA garage to have the battery tested. It hadn't been doing its homework. We paid for a new battery to be fitted and went off, broke but happy.

Today she started first time and Isaac, Pat & I drove up to Cardrona. We parked at the bottom of the access road and hitched up with a crazy British lady who drove like The Stig. We had our stella afternoon and hitched back down the hill. I got a ride first, with a father & daughter from Brisbane, leaving Isaac & Pat to find another ride, and when I reached the bottom I went to get into Jaffa - there was a funny buzzing noise coming from the dashboard. I turned the key and there was nothing. Not a sausage, though the buzzing noise stopped. I turned the key back, the buzzing noise came back. Damn! I thought I'd call the AA again quickly, because the sooner I called the sooner they'd be there. I made the call but as I was talking to the woman who answered, I saw that by some bizarre coincidence, the AA van, with the same guy driving, was coming down the hill - I literally ran out in front of his car to get him to stop, and told the woman that the AA man was already there! He gave us another jump (I'm exhausted) and told us that the buzzing noise was one of the relays, which might need some attention, and might be what was draining the battery. I called up to work and told them I wouldn't be in early because I had to take Jaffa to the doctor's and got back in to drive off. I looked down and realised that the lights were on....yes I'd left the bloody lights on. What an idiot. Thank goodness for the AA! So hopefully she'll behave from now on.

*the Automobile Association, a breakdown service. Not Alcoholics Anonymous, who wouldn't necessarily know to bring jump leads.

The end and the beginning

The Slush Cup at Sunshine traditionally signals the end of the season and provides the opportunity for an enormous piss-up, for both staff and guests. This year was no exception.

I hadn't quite got my head around exactly what the Slush Cup was. I knew it was a bunch of competitors, who were dressed up in weird & wonderful ways, skiing down a hill towards a pool of water in the hopes of getting across it in an upright position. What I hadn't worked out was how big the run up was, how big the pool was and how wet I'd get sitting next to it. It was great, and I had enormous fun, but wished I'd remembered Susan's advice to bring a spare pair of shoes and socks. Frozen tootsies aside, the party afterwards with the hog roast and the fire in the car park was awesome.

Good thing I don't drink, of course, because I had a job interview this morning for Canadian Mountain Holidays. After an hour of chatting about everything from midwifery to mechanical engineering over a nice cup of coffee, I was offered the job as Summer Exchange Co-ordinator, which is basically the person who gets guests and their luggage onto the bus in Banff, rides with them to the heli-pad and sees them off for their heli-hiking excursions. Then I will gather up the group of weary travellers who are arriving back from their trip, and bus them back to Banff, all the while on-hand to provide useful titbits of information about the Rockies and their inhabitants. Not difficult, but takes a certain kind of chatty, organised person*. Of course the fact that this is also the same company who does heli-skiing, and that they have already said that opportunities to work with the company over winter may well arise, has little to do with how excited I am about my new job; oh no, I was swayed by the fact that during the bus journeys I can eat as many muffins as I want. Read it and weep. I start as soon as I finish working the Calgary Stampede, assuming tomorrow's job interview goes well of course. As always, gentle reader, I'll let you know.

Slush Cup photos here.

*i.e. me

Hardcore

And now, ladies and gentlemen, for your delight and pleasure, courtesy of my friend Isaac, here is a picture of me skiing out of the Dive on a broken leg:



If you look closely, you can actually see me gritting my teeth.

The agony and the ecstasy

Yesterday I finally achieved my last ambition of the season: to do the Dive. Delirium Dive is Sunshine's extreeeeeeme freeride terrain and I felt like I was the last person in the world - or at least among my circle of friends - to do it. Even Darrell did it a few days ago with some friends of mine while I was stuck at work and when Kate came in yesterday and mentioned she'd just done it, I knew I had to get up there asap. I was planning to do it today with Zander, but when Isaac offered to take me there yesterday afternoon I was determined to 'get her done', as we say out here.

In order to go to the Dive you have to go with a partner, be carrying an avalanche beacon (and know how to use it) as well as a probe and a shovel. I borrowed a friend's and we headed up at
2pm for our ride break. I got nervous as I reached the top - the drop in is ridiculously steep and you really don't want to fall there because you'd just keep going! Took me a while to get into the jump turns on the steeps but, with a bit of
side slipping thrown in, I was soon getting the hang of it. We were having a ball - it was so hot I even stopped midway to take half my clothes off and Isaac threw huge snowballs at our boss Casey, who'd joined us. Then, when we reached the relatively flat run out, we decided to gun it though the powder. Fatal error.

As I zipped through the still very deep but tracked out powder, I managed to catch an edge. I took a big tumble and felt my leg twist as I did so, though to my surprise my ski didn't release. I sat for a moment afterwards and realised my right calf was really rather painful, but assumed it was just muscle spasm. I got up and tried to ski down, it was hurting but if I put all my weight on my left foot and didn't turn much, I was able to get down to Casey & Isaac. The pain started getting worse, but I still had to get out of there, so I kept going with Isaac's help, doing the difficult bits on my bum or walking. When I got back to the piste I was able to straight line it down to the gondola station, which was very painful but what choice did I have? Got on the gondola, but by the time I got off, I was in agony. Still reluctant to acknowledge it could be anything other than muscle damage, I got back to Guest Services with Darrell's - who was waiting at the bottom for me - help (piggy
back!) and got changed. Went to walk back to the bus and realised that I couldn't walk. I asked Darrell to get ski patrol for me. Larry from ski patrol arrived promptly, did a few tests and said he thought it could be broken, so a wheelchair was obtained and I was wheeled to the infirmary to be splinted. I sat outside in the sun with Andrew, a fellow skier who had landed badly off a jump in the terrain park, waiting for my lift to the hospital (no ambulances here for us foreigners with no health care cover) and to cut a long story short, yes, the damn leg was broken. A classic skier's 'boot top fracture' of the fibula, in case you're interested.

I'm still in a lot of pain - back to the Percocets for me! - and unable to do a goddamn thing for myself, but can't say I'm devastated. I mean, I've managed to do everything this season I really wanted to do. I learnt to ski, I did my Level 1 ski instructor's course, I've had awesome road trips to Big Mountain, Fernie, Castle and Revelstoke. I had a go at snowboarding and even bought a board, despite not really liking it very much! And I finally did the Dive. There's only 3 weeks of the season left and yes, I won't be skiing, but I've had such an amazing season to date that I have to be damn grateful. And far better that I broke my leg doing the Dive than on some tame green run.

Darrell bought me a badge, which says: Delirium Dive: No Guts, No Glory. I couldn't agree more.

Revelling in it

So our trip to Revelstoke can only be described as a huge success. We got off to a good start when, on our journey there through an area called Beaver Valley, I glanced out of the passenger window only to see a huge black bear wandering along at the bottom of the hill to our left. We all leapt out of the car (it was a fair way away from us I should point out) just in time to see it disappear into the woods. My first bear! The drive that we thought would take us around four and a half hours, in fact only took just over three, and our motel, the Super8 was clean and pleasant, with the additional bonus of a hot tub and swimming pool. So far so good.

So when we first arrived at the resort and saw the dirt showing through the snow at the bottom and the driving rain we were crushed. Why did we come this late in the season when it was clearly going to be rubbish? We rode the gondola up with a certain amount of reluctance. We'll just get through a day here and we can always head home tomorrow if it's rubbish, was our thinking. We didn't, of course, bank on the 18cms of new powder at the top, our pick of fresh tracks through the trees and a skier count of around 25. Within minutes we found ourselves whooping and hollering our way down the super steep runs, trying our best to avoid hitting trees (Darrell almost succeeded) and had a blast. Kate & I got some more footage for the skiing/snowboarding video we're making, '40 Fanny Stacks'. The lunch was awesome - some of the best pasta I've had in ages (farfalle with creamy pesto, prawns, spinach and red peppers. Yum). We sang Mr. Big's 'Next To Be With You' and Flight of the Conchord's 'It's Business Time' incessantly. On day 2 Darrell & I decided to hire some powder skis just to see if they worked better in the Revie conditions and, though Darrell got on well with his Head Monsters, my Head Sweet Fat Thangs were horrible. They were heavy and reluctant to turn, so I took them back after 3 runs and got my own sweet Bandits back and it confirmed to me how much I love them! Sometimes I feel like they're not even skis anymore, they're merely an extension of my feet. And what big feet I have.

A few days and much story-telling to those who were unable to make it later, and plans were made for a second Revie trip leaving the following Sunday. Amy, Chris, Gravy, Zander and Mr Ed were added to the original Revie trip veterans of Darrell, Chelsea & myself, 2 more cars hired, rooms back at the Super8 booked and off we went again. A hilarious journey there featured 2 walkie-talkies, much
Corona/Skittlebrau* imbibed**, mooning at slow drivers (and each other***), Russian roulette with the Hoosiers (don't ask), 2 restaurants refusing to let us in (both claiming to have 'run out of food') and Darrell taking the longest wee ever at the side of the road. Revie had lost more snow from the bottom and had less at the top, but we still had a ball bombing down the steeps before heading back home that night. Top time had by all. Again. See all the debauchery here.

*In the absence of an actual lime, lime skittles were popped into the bottles of Corona producing a foul green concoction
**though not, obviously, by Zander or myself who were driving the respective vehicles
***Prompting Darrell's classic first words to Amy to be "I met your arse before I met you!"

Roadtrippin'

Firstly, let me prefix this post by telling you my proud news: that I am now a fully qualified Level 1 Ski Instructor! Who'd've thunk it? I didn't mention I was taking the course because I was worried I'd fail. However, somehow I managed to blag my way into CSIA membership with my, frankly, barely adequate skiing abilities. I was so proud when I got my badge that I blubbed like a baby.

So, I've been a-roadtrippin' again. A last minute drop out proved fortuitous for me, when I got the opportunity to join 2 of my flatmates, Kate & Chelsea, along with 3 of my fellow Sunshine employees, Jono, Marlie and Brianna, on a trip to Fernie and Castle Mountain; Jono was doubtless excited about the prospect of being the only male escort to 5 lovely ladies.

We were picked up at 5am on Monday - there went my much looked forward to lie-in - and began our drive to Fernie, around 4 hours away. We arrived super excited to discover that they'd had a good few centimetres of snow overnight, with yet more
falling. The cool thing about Fernie is that it feels so open and varied. At Sunshine you pretty much go up, do a run back to the village, go back up, do a run back down to the village ad infinitum, whereas with Fernie you feel like you can go anywhere - up this lift, down that run, up the T-bar, traverse across, back up - and don't need to go all the way down to the base until you're good and ready. We found a fabulous run across a powder-filled bowl, down a tree run to a natural half-pipe etc., which we did over and over, and it was snowing so hard that by the time we got back up our tracks were covered, so we got fresh tracks on every run! So nice. We stayed at Fernie for day 2, because even more snow had fallen and we didn't want to miss such a good powder day.

Now, skiing in powder is very different from skiing on packed snow or groomed runs, requiring a totally different technique, and it's not something I've had much experience of, and thus I found I skied like a total gimp. I fell over all the time, lost one of my skis under 2 foot of powder at one point, and generally struggled to keep up with the others I was with - all of whom are snowboarders incidentally - but had a ball nonetheless. As Megan pointed out to me when we caught up on the phone: it's all about getting from point A to point B and having fun. Whether you do it with much in the way of style and grace is largely irrelevant. The really good thing about powder is that if - or in my case when - you fall it in, it's virtually impossible to hurt yourself!

Day 3 we went to Castle Mountain, which Gravy and Laura et al. had visited a few weeks ago on a massive powder day (something like a foot and a half of fresh snow overnight) and had had (and I quote directly) "the best day's snowboarding EVER". My expectations were therefore high, so I was slightly disappointed to find that it was a little too sparse on the snow side and a little too generous on the ice, particularly high up the mountain. We began our day doing the Chutes - oh yes, excellent choice guys: start the day with a double black diamond wind-swept sheer drop covered in ice, when we'd all been skiing/riding for 2 days and were aching and bruised. Nice. After only an hour we stopped for a drink and Marlie, Kate & I decided to go and do some nice easy runs off the Huckleberry chair. At one point we went to get on the lift and as we shuffled forward we collided with each other and I dropped my pole. As I bent to retrieve it I ended up getting my ski caught in Kate's snowboard binding and we all toppled over. They stopped the lift to avoid hitting us with it. If this wasn't embarrassing enough, the next time up the woman asked if we wanted her to slow the lift down for us? Giggling, Marlie replied "I know it looks like we've never done this before, but it's my 7th season and she's an instructor!"

On our penultimate run I found the most amazing route through the trees, with lots of fresh powder to be had. I grabbed the girls for our last run and urged them to follow me to find the good stuff. Somehow - and I still have no idea exactly how -
I managed to stack it on a tight turn around a tree and fell over, ending up face first in the snow, with my legs and skis tangled upwards behind me in the tree. I saw Marlie approaching nearby and tried to call out to get her attention, but was laughing so hysterically I could barely speak. By some miracle she spotted me and came over. I asked for a little help and in reply she gave a one-word demand: "Camera!" We carried on laughing all the way back down to meet the others.

The 3 day's hard physical exertion and a 4 hour drive back found us exhausted and I was desperate to collapse on my bed, have a shower and an early night. It was not to be: on entering my bedroom I found that the Beaver Boys had had a little a fun at our expense whilst slighty inebriated the previous evening. My bed had been turned upside down, as had my bedside cabinet (scattering its contents liberally across the floor) and my chair. Thank goodness my wardrobe and computer desk had been spared; the sofa, microwave, toaster and television (now unwilling, or unable, to show us any red, rendering all persons bright blue) had not been so lucky. Kate's room had been similarly violated. Suffice to say, the 'hilarious' reaction they had been expecting was not forthcoming but, being the nice person I am, I've forgiven them now.

All photos from the trip available here.

Catching up

You know how you want to blog about something exciting, but don't get the time, then something else happens but you don't want to blog about that till you've got round to blogging about the first thing, then before you know it, you haven't blogged for ages and you know that when you do you're going to have to write loads so that puts you off and then everyone starts sending you 'you haven't blogged for ages, are you ok?' emails...? Hmmm. Yes. Well, here goes, I'll try to keep it brief.

So let me start from the first exciting thing. Just over a week ago I went on a road trip with some of my buddies to Montana in the US of A. We crammed 9 of us into 2
rooms at the Super 8 Motel in Whitefish and skied for 2 days at Big Mountain, which was beyond awesome. There was tons and tons of snow, and it was very different from the snow we get at Sunshine - very wet in fact. We ended each day twice as heavy as we began. We saw tons of snow ghosts (which is where the trees are totally covered in snow and look like ghosts. Duh.) The runs were great, lots of tree runs with waist deep powder and the first day I really struggled to get down them with my skis because they're quite long and more suitable for carving on groomed runs. I stacked it quite a lot but it was soft to fall in so I didn't mind, but come day 2, I decided that I needed something more suitable for the terrain. I rented a pair of Rossignol Bandits, which I was told would be suitable for all mountain skiing. Well. They were AWESOME and enabled me to ski everything, including my first double black diamond (Picture Chutes, in case you're interested). I handed them back reluctantly but the following day we went to do a bit of shopping to take advantage of the cheap American prices and I ended up getting a sweet sweet deal on some of my own! Kate & I, along with our compadres Sarah & Lyndsey, also hit the terrain park while we were there and I rode my first ever rail. Or box. Or whatever it was. Anyway, I managed to get over it without falling and land on the other side, which surprised me so much that I fell over as soon as I realised.


The footage of this will, of course, go into the snowboarding/skiing video that Kate & I are currently making, provisionally titled '40 Fanny Stacks'. So that was Montana. A great success all round.

Then the other night we decided to go ice skating up at the outdoor rink at the Banff
Springs Hotel. A combination of missing the bus, not knowing where we were going and having to go somewhere else entirely to rent skates meant that we only had half an hour to skate so speed skating was the order of the day, which was most enjoyable. Matt, Laura & I rocked our way cool Beaver St Massiv hoodies, designed by Zander and now owned by every member of the Beaver, as well as selected couch surfers that we've had, in a variety of colours. We look so rad* when we go out en masse with our hoodies.

Then yesterday I had another ski lesson, which was cool, because the sun was glorious and the air was ridiculously warm. My skiing is coming along leaps and bounds and I
don't think there's anything I won't at least have a go at now. Being on my new skis helps tons! They are so flexible and easy to turn on, so come powder or moguls, I can attack them with confidence. Today I went out again with Chris, Amy & Chris's friend Dave and we hit the whole resort. I did 2 jumps, which I even managed to land! I'll be honest, Whitefish has somewhat spoiled us for terrain and snow, so Sunshine does now pale into insignificance in some respects, but hey, it's my home mountain and I know which runs I like, so I can't really complain...

*I'm 19 again.

Kicking the horse

Yesterday I visited Kicking Horse with some friends, and faced some of the most challenging terrain I'd been on. I was with five good snowboarders and one very good skier (Rachel, Zander's sister) so I was a bit worried that I'd be left behind - particularly given that I hadn't skied for 3 weeks due to my leg still being swollen and painful (painkillers and a positive attitude got me a long way yesterday) - but nevertheless we headed straight for one of the trickiest parts of the mountain for our first run.

As we passed over Redemption Ridge on the chairlift, I told Rachel that I didn't think I would be able to ski it. She assured me I'd be fine - ha! - so I thought I'd just do my best and take it slowly. All very well, but 'taking it slowly' didn't seem to be an option once I got on to the narrow, bumpy terrain with drops either side because my skis kept gathering speed and I didn't seem able to find anywhere that allowed me to slow down. Consequently, I fell over alot. Then when we dropped off to the right, onto a super steep alpine path, I took one look and said to Rachel 'I have absolutely no idea how to even start turning on this!' She talked me through it and, despite falling over alot (again), I managed to get downhill onto a blue groomed run where I could let my skis rip. Back up the lift a second time to have another go and this time, following Rachel's advice, I decided to try to go with the speed a bit on the narrow bumpy bit. This quickly got out of hand, when I panicked and felt I had to stop now!, and only managed to do so by plowing head first into a wall of ice. I was wearing a helmet, thank goodness, but still came close to knocking myself out and instantly had a very vivid flashback to a dream I'd had a couple of weeks previously, involving big red and blue monsters, which seemed perfectly reasonable to me at the time. Rachel was laughing nervously and wondering if she needed to get the ski patrol, but being hardcore, I rested for a minute or two then skied down. I did sit the next run out (and, in all honesty, had a little cry out of frustration to boot) but then went back up to try again. Much better this time, as Rachel helped me work on side slipping properly. Then, futher down, we dropped off the left-hand side into Feuz Bowl, which was super steep but full of powder and I worked on my jump turns. Jump 1, not too bad. Jump 2, getting better. Jump 3, my right ski flies off and heads down the mountain at breakneck speed. Rachel skied down and retrieved it, whilst I slid down the huge steep powdery hill on my arse, with my one remaining ski held aloft and giggling all the way.

Lunch followed and in the afternoon we split into 2 groups: Gravy, Zander & Rachel headed to CPR Ridge, which sounded a bit hardcore for me with my dodgy leg and, already by now, tired and aching muscles, so I joined Scott, Ben & Jess hitting the groomed greens and blues.

Today I am paying the price for the physical exertion by having every muscle in my body feel like it's been run through a mangle, a couple of new bruises on my thighs to add to my ever-growing collection, a tiny bruise by my left eye and a sore chin. But hey, we had fun and thanks to my helmet I still have an intact skull, so that's always a bonus!

Ouch

Left work early today to go skiing. The conditions were amazing - not too cold, lots of powder around, newly waxed skis - and I was having a ball. On my fourth run I decided to take an interesting path which took me around a cliff and down a steep mogully bit. At one point I was skiing down a path around 1.5 ft wide with huge rocks to my left and a drop to my right, so I hugged the boulders in order to avoid the drop while I hurtled downwards. However, a rock sticking out of the wall on my left decided to collide with my shin, which stopped me painfully in my tracks. After 5 mins of sitting and waiting for the stinging to subside whilst considering my next move, I gingerly skied down and spent the next 20 mins sitting in the Daylodge with a bag of ice on my shin. I thought I might be able to ski on, but no go, as I could barely walk by the time I got up. I hobbled to the Gondola and came down to catch the bus home and was very very pissed off indeed.

I came home and put a bag of snow on it (luckily I have a ready supply), but now have a lump the size of, well, something particularly large that doesn't belong on a shin on it. And it hurts like buggery. Actually, I think I'd prefer the buggery. Got to rest it up and ice it for the next few days because on Monday I'm going ice-climbing with the boys (and ain't nothing gonna stop me) and on Tuesday I have a staff trip to another ski resort, Panorama, which I really want to go on. So everyone's fingers crossed it goes down in time, please.

More skiing tales

Went skiing yesterday and today (well what else am I going to do on my days off?!); yesterday I had a blue runner lesson and worked on turning all day. The conditions were amazing and, due to an effect caused by fresh snow and sun beating down for which the First Nations people undoubtedly have a name, the whole of the air was sparkling as tiny particles of snow were blown around! It really looked incredible. Today Gravy & I met up in the afternoon and did some hucking of the gnar and I was relieved and happy to discover I could pretty much keep up with him, even though we were doing some black runs. I did take a couple of good stacks - one where I went arse over tit, then spun round at least 3 times on my back ending up 30 feet away from my skis! - but nothing I couldn't handle. I'm clearly getting better. Hurrah.

O Come All Ye Beaver

Christmas Day began at 06.30 (okay, okay, I realise it actually begun at 00.00, but humour me) when I dragged my sorry arse out of bed to skype with the family back home, who were opening presents at Jenny's. I was amazed to discover the present I'd sent Liddi only just over a week before had made it back to England in time for Christmas - must be a bloody record for the Canadian post! Nice to speak to everyone back home. Back at the Beaver, despite the early hour, Christmas songs were being played loudly and much singing was to be heard. I was slipping into my red one-piece, which Kate had bought in a rummage sale, and with which I had fallen in love, both for it's retro-styley and its festive connotations. Laura, Kate, Ed & I took the early bus to Sunshine and more Carols were sung, enthusiasm as standard, in the gondola up to the village.

Ed & I had the breakfast buffet then joined Kate & Laura on the slopes, though somehow we managed to misplace Ed immediately and not see hide nor hair of him again till we got home. Expecting that, after over 2 weeks off, it would take me a bit of time to find my ski-legs, so I did my first run by myself to avoid embarrassment. On doing so, I discovered that Santa had somehow given me the ability to ski fast and without fear in my Christmas stocking! I bombed down and joined the girls, brimming with confidence. A few runs later, we found ourselves looking at a black run as we soared above it on the chair lift and decided, perhaps somewhat rashly, that it really didn't look too bad... We nailed it! Well, kinda. I did face-plant fairly hard on a giant mogul I didn't see coming and lay there for several minutes wondering if I did still have all my teeth (I did), but we all got down in one piece and had a ball doing so, which is, after all, the whole point.

In the afternoon, after picking up my newly commissioned trail sign, hilarously emblazoned with the moniker 'Massive Beaver', Laura & I headed back down in the gondola to get a head start on Christmas dinner. On the way down we passed a gondola operator sat in her little booth which had a sign in the window saying 'Christmas waves please!' Naturally Laura & I obliged enthusiastically and I then decided to hold my trail sign up to the window to try to get a laugh. I picked up the sign...and whacked Laura straight in the face with it. As I shouted 'Omigod I'm so sorry, I hit you in the face with my massive beaver!' we collapsed and laughed so hard that by the time we reached the bottom station, we could barely exit the gondola. Practically crawling and gasping for breath, I tried to explain to the gondola operator who was removing Laura's skis why we were laughing but just couldn't get the words out. He looked at me strangely and merely said 'Please exit to your left', leaving Laura & I in more fits.

Arrived back home to prepare food. My banoffi pie and my lime & ginger cheesecake had been made the previous evening but we still had 2 stuffed turkey breasts and a huge joint of beef to be cooked, yorkshire pudding to make, cauliflower cheese to prepare, potatoes to peel, parboil and roast, vegetables to steam and gravy to make. Phew! However, with a little help from my friends, we got it all done and proceeded to eat ourselves into a stupor, whilst watching A Muppets' Christmas Carol. The Secret Santa followed - my present was a floating penis bath plug (how did they know?) - and we all played with our new toys for a bit. My puddings went down a treat as usual (not wishing to blow my own trumpet of course*) and by 11pm, we were all falling asleep in post-gastronomic bliss, not a crumb of food left. So much for my Boxing Day bubble & squeak plans, but the whole day was so awesome; I'm certainly not complaining...

Full photos here.

*Toot toot!

Bad/good

Been really pissed off for the last week or so as the injury I referred to in my last ski-based post, which caused me to fall over whenever I turned, has been getting progressively worse and I've been unable to ski since then. It's basically the ligament just to the back of my left knee that I've managed to strain, and even walking has been very painful. Today it began to feel a bit better...until I had to run for the bus this afternoon and it throbbed all the way home. So I'm trying to give it time to recover before I get back on the slopes, which has been enormously frustrating, as I'm desperate to keep practising. Still. Got to be sensible.

On a more positive note, a few days ago, about 15 mins before I left work, I got a call from a hotel in Banff where a Senior's Alpine Ski Club were staying. They'd been to Sunshine and two of the women had left their skis and poles outside our ticket windows. I popped out and found them and, after several confused conversations about how we could return them to the women (who were off to a different ski hill the following day), I decided to take them back there myself, as it wasn't too far from where I live in Banff. I roped Zander in to help me cart them back and handed them into the hotel reception. Job's a good 'un. Today, Sheila, one of the women, called my work to thank me and to ask where she could send me a 'tip'! I protested feebly before giving her my address and we wished each other a Merry Christmas. How sweet.

Shredding the gnar

Whenever the boys go snowboarding, they tell us they're going to 'shred the gnar'. Well, today, Amy & I may not have shredded the gnar, but we certainly agitated it a little. Kicked it around a bit with our toes, as it were. We stuck mainly to green runs but did go up Lookout Mountain on the Continental Divide lift (which crosses into British Columbia and back to Alberta on the journey!) and discovered there were only blue runs, so we did that too. Unfortunately when I stacked it on Angel the other day I hurt my leg, which had been fine during the easy runs, but when I was trying to carve sharply across the run to control my speed on the steep downhill, I found it became really painful and ended up giving way on several occasions. Annoying, because I actually felt up to the task in other respects. Anyway, good runs: good funs, or something like that. And would you look at the views?

Feeling blue

Although I had planned to make it up the hill again yesterday to try to conquer my powder demons, when my alarm went off at 6am and I tried to get out of bed, it quickly became apparent that my limbs were not playing ball. So I went back to sleep for a bit and spent the day dragging my heavy legs and aching muscles - many of which I was previously unaware I even possessed - around the place.

Today, however, I was not letting sore legs dictate the day. After a morning's work, which as usual passed by in the blink of an eye, I had the afternoon off and, after a quick bite to eat, headed up the hill with my ski gear to meet up with Toby, an English ski instructor I met last night who had offered - the fool! - to give me a few pointers. We started off going up the Strawberry lift and going down a run I was very familiar with, the Dell Valley. However, my confidence had been knocked by my inability to stay upright for more than 2 minutes the other day, my legs had forgotten how to behave on skis, the run was icy and the visibility at the top fairly poor, so although I managed to get to the bottom relatively unscathed, it hardly gave Toby a good impression of my abilities. I let him take the lead and we headed up Wawa lift for the next run. We did some exercises designed to improve my turning technique and gave the green run a go. It went fairly well, a few bails here and there but nothing dramatic, and as we headed up the lift a second time, he told me he was going to take me down a blue run next. "Erm...if you think that's okay?" I ventured, "I mean, what do blue runs have that green runs don't? Topless dancers, late night poker, that sort of thing?" "Well, you might find the odd bit of barbed wire, assorted booby traps and some land mines, but nothing you can't handle" Toby assured me.

I would love to tell you, gentle reader, that I stormed the blue run with grace and aplomb. But in reality, though I started well, I stacked it on practically every turn - into nice soft powder thankfully - when it got all mogely (bumpy) and very steep. However, I got down it in one piece, learnt a ton about turning on the way down, and we did another blue run straight after, which was a bit (a bit) better. Toby had to run off so I went up and took the green run again by myself and lo! Suddenly it felt like a piece of the proverbial. Not one fall and I found myself actively looking to make up speed and take a more interesting line. Ha!

Of course, I'm not saying I'm suddenly a brilliant skier. But with a ton of practice, I finally feel I might just make it as a perfectly acceptable one by the end of the season. Life is good.

Living the life of a celebrity, on the wages of a pauper

Over here at Sunshine, working full-time, I'm earning somewhere in the region of £500 per month. My rent and utilities comes to around £250, so the rest goes on food, entertainment and any other essentials. Back home this would be virtually impossible, but here, it's perfectly achievable to live on minimum wage. For a start, not drinking alcohol saves me tons! Most places here I'll pay for one soft drink, around $3, then get free refills for the rest of the night. We often eat communally, which saves money, and on our days off we mainly go skiing/snowboarding, which is free for those of us working at Sunshine obviously. Snow gear - jackets, thermals, boots etc. - is our main expense, because the good stuff does cost serious money, but once you're geared up, as I now am, you're done.

Yesterday was my day off and I had planned with a friend, Aaron, to go for a ski lesson. However, due to a car accident on the approach to the ski hill, the bus was late and I missed the start of the lesson, so we decided to just go up and do our own thing. Aaron has been boarding for years but has only skied twice before, so was happy to come on green runs with me. We'd had a ton of snow over night and it was still snowing heavily - puking snow as they say over here - so it was a 'powder day'.

I'd never skied in powder - having only skied twice before of course! - and soon discovered it was both a blessing and a curse. It was monstrously difficult to stay upright and nigh on impossible to turn when you were up to your knees in light, fluffy snow, unable to even see where your skis were. If you slowed or stopped, the effort involved in just lifting your feet up to get on top of the snow again was monstrous and soon my legs were like jelly. However, if you got a good downhill run going, you could bomb down with relative confidence, because if you did fall your landing was as soft as snot (as my mother would say). I literally stacked it every couple of minutes and sometimes the temptation to just lie there in the comfortable snow and to catch your breath for a bit was overwhelming. On one occasion I did a huge bail face first into a ton of snow, which was apparently hilarious to see and the story has already done the rounds. I managed to drag myself up and looked around to see where my left ski, which had come off, was. It was nowhere to be found. Eventually, after poking randomly around with my pole, I found it about 4 feet away and completely hidden 2 feet under the snow. I tried to get it back on but everytime I tried to clip my boot into the bindings it sank again without a trace. A full ten minutes later, I was finally ready to head back off down the run, where Aaron and another friend Amy were waiting patiently for me.

Eventually I went to have lunch and bumped into Chris, Gravy & Zander, who were having an awesome day boarding down black runs. It certainly seems to me that snowboards have a slightly easier time of it in the deep powder due, presumably, to their width. I did one more run after lunch before deciding that my legs just wouldn't take it anymore, so I popped off to the Sunshine Inn hotel (right on the ski hill) to take advantage of the huge outdoor hot tub, where the boys and Amy joined me.

It was snowing heavily and was fairly mild by then, around -5, compared to the -25 we'd had in previous days. We ordered drinks (me a coke, the boys a pitcher of beer) and sank down to relieve our aching limbs. Pretty soon we were so warm that the idea of stepping out into the snow in our swimmers was rather inviting and so the boys went first, rubbing themselves down with snow before jumping back into the hot tub, which gave you a pleasant, all over tingling/pins & needles sensation for around five minutes afterwards. Just next to us was a gate which led out onto one of the ski runs, so the boys then decided to try lying down in the snow, face first initially:

then onto their backs:

I was reluctant at first to try it, what with my pathetic circulation an' all, but soon got swept up in the excitement and sure enough, soon discovered that lying in the snow in a bikini was an enormously exhilarating experience, and the resultant tingling well worth it:

As we sat in the hot tub, drinking beer/coke, watching skiers and snowboarders whiz past us, reflecting on our day, we couldn't stop telling each other how amazing our lives were at the moment. We are enormously lucky to be here, in an incredible place, with fantastic people, doing things we love. We truly are living the dream, and we're determined not to take even one second of it for granted.

Spoke too soon

Had a second day's skiing today, but this time I was skiing alone. The skies were blue, the temp was something like -16 and the snow was flat and icy, which meant that I spent much of my time bombing down at breakneck* speeds and struggling to control it. I had some really good runs, but also some bloody terrifying ones. This, combined with my bronchitis (did I mention that before? I've been coughing myself stupid for weeks and now have a pulled muscle in my left rib cage which is agony), and my recent poor sleeping record (some self-inflicted, most cough-induced), has left me feeling very down today. In fact, I cried all the way home from the ski hill on the bus. I suppose I should cut myself some slack; I've only been skiing for 2 days. But still, I'm not used to feeling scared and was really annoyed with myself for not being, well, better. Plus all my friends are snowboarders, so I don't really have anyone to talk to about it, or to go on runs with (I tried to go on a run with them today but within 2 minutes they'd disappeared into the distance in a flurry of snow, even Zander, who's only been snowboarding for just over a week but is already bombing down blue runs like he's been doing it for years).

So, in the spirit of trying to be positive, even though I don't feel it today, I'm going to have another lesson soon - Sunday hopefully if there's spaces - and try to regain my confidence. And I took this picture at the top of one of the hills today, which shows that even if I'm not any good at it, I still get to enjoy the views:


* I have a whole new appreciation for this phrase

Ski Sunday

Yesterday was my first ski lesson on a proper mountain. And it was fantastic! I am so relieved, I did feel I was taking a bit of gamble coming to live in a ski resort for 7 months without actually knowing whether or not I liked it, but fortunately it all worked out for the best. I'm afraid I was too busy learning stuff (and wearing mittens) to take pictures on the mountain so a picture of me doing the TV slalom will have to suffice. My new down jacket was a great investment as one of my biggest fears was being freezing cold all day, but in fact I was warm as toast. Even my hands stayed warm thanks to my mittens! Feet got a bit cold but that's to be expected I suppose. And thanks to Megan and the loan of her fabulous skis, I slid down that mountain a right treat, I can tell you! It was an all day lesson and though I started off rather unsteady on my feet, by the end I had those parallel turns nailed. If anything, I need to go a bit slower (my instructor reckoned that being a biker has given me confidence at speed) until my control is a bit stronger, but I only fell over 3 times, which isn't bad going, and one of those was when an old guy took me out getting off the chair lift. I'm not even hurting too badly today, and would have gone back to the slopes if I hadn't had my first training session at the steak restaurant I'm going to be working this afternoon. I've got loads of homework to do - this restaurant demands you know all about different types of cows, where the cuts of meat come from, how they're prepared, everything. Plus you have to know every single ingredient in every single dish on the menu - there's a written food test that you need to get over 90% to pass. Although I'm struggling with learning it all, I still think it's great, it's what all restaurants should do, because back home I'm fed up of crap service.

Speaking of which, I should probably try to get some more sleep in before I go. Last night was our lovely friend Mike's leaving do, as he's heading back to England to join the Army. We've all been trying to persuade him to stay, particularly as he has a Canadian passport, but he seems set on going, damn him. Although I was absolutely shattered after my day's skiing, I dragged my sorry arse out to say goodbye, intending to be out an hour or so, but ended up staying out till some godforsaken hour of the morning, when the inevitable coughing fits (I'm still coughing like a bastard after nearly 3 weeks and am beginning to wonder if I've developed bronchitis or something) kept me awake for most of the rest of the night. Anyway, photos of the love-fest in the usual place. We all love Mike, so much so that we even forgive him for being sick on our kitchen floor the other week. Bless his cottons.

Two sticks on my feet, some snow and a hill...

...in Milton Keynes of all places, my feelings about which have been previously documented.

For my birthday, in preparation for spending 6 months in a ski resort, David bought me a skiing lesson at the Xscape SnoZone! which I had yesterday. Given that I can't remember ever having been in the same room as a pair of skis, let alone had them on my feet, it was a steep learning curve but in 3 hours I went from "how the hell am I supposed to move with these bloody things on my feet?" to "get me higher up this damn hill and watch me kick some powder!"

If you'd like to see how I ended up, watch this:


But if you'd like to see me fall over the first time I tried turning (and I'm guessing that you would), see here (sorry it's sideways):


I had a blast but, inevitably, my thighs are paying for it today.