June 28

Strange random dreams teased my sleep. I awoke in the darkness, in a strange room, an uneasy feeling seeped inside. Time was an illusion; we had no clock and no light. Awareness dawned on my consciousness.

We had no coffee.

I lay there in a state of awakening nerves and body. I wanted to return to sleep and hope for my dreams to return. In my dream, I didn’t need coffee. In reality, I don’t need coffee, but like a good friend told me, “A morning without coffee isn’t worth getting up for.” I lay there staring at the light beneath the door. It was time to move, to deal with my situation. We were still at Big White and I had hope.

We have some friends that live at the end of the road and I knew he was an early riser. Big White is full of amazing people, I was confident I could find someone to rescue me from my coffee deficiency. One message and fifteen minutes later I had my morning elixir. It was before eight on a Sunday and I sat and stared into the mist, coffee in hand.

We had Marijke and her friend with us; I didn’t expect movement from that direction for a while. We relaxed and sat indoors reflecting on our season. Reflecting on everything that has transpired since that fateful day three months ago. When they closed the hill and our world changed. Our friend John had one hundred and ten days on skis. He never missed a day the hill was open, he was on pace for a perfect season. Possibly the last such season he may ever see.

The season ended in a way we could never have fathomed three months prior. Now three months later things have changed, will they ever be the same? My friend may never come that close to a perfect season again. The big question still remains will our winter wonderland open this coming season for that many days, if at all. Uncertainty still fills the air, one day at a time. Biking opens in less than two weeks. It’s a start. How it finishes remains to be seen.

We walked the mountain again. We dragged our teenage companions reluctantly on our walk of the mountain. The sun had broken through the low cloud and mist that enveloped Big White village for the morning. Our bodies enjoyed the warmth of the sun, our souls enjoyed the warmth of the view of the surrounding mountain range.

The deep silence of the mountain greeted us. We wandered across perfection run and through the trees under the Ridgerocket chairlift. We traversed a creek and continued onward and upward underneath the Snowghost chair. The mountain looked different with no snow, the girls were surprised by the rocks, trees, and debris that littered the runs. Normally we see the hill covered in two metres of snow. I strove for connection with my daughter on the walk; alas she was more interested in going home, going back to wifi.

We basked in the last moments on the mountain. The quiet of the whispering wind and the song from the birds around us calmed my heart, warmed my soul. Soon we would return to the real world and go back to the bustle of traffic and the rush of daily life. I encouraged the girls to soak it in and bathe in these moments of peace. They rolled their eyes and smiled. “Ok Dad” was all I got in response.

Tomorrow my sweet child goes back to her mom, coronabreak a never-ending condition for our wayward teenager. I tried to be patient, to be understanding. Spring break started March 12, the pandemic started the same day. Coronabreak started two weeks later. Now, the summer holiday is upon us and she has lost part of her year and much of her focus. Phase three conditions mean school will begin in September. I hope that we can start school in September, I hope the hill will open for ski season. I hope they find a vaccine or a treatment soon. I hope.

I want our wonderful children to regain focus, routine, and direction. I wonder when she is my age if she will remember 2020. If she will remember when they closed the ski hill, and closed the world. When we stopped and the world took a coronabreak.