Dec 10 Ice and snow

My brain swam to the surface of consciousness. I awoke and turned to the clock and saw the time, it was 5:30 on the alarm clock. In real-time, it was 5:15. I’m not sure why I try to trick myself with my clock, I have set my alarm clock fifteen minutes fast since I was a kid. Most days I know to subtract fifteen minutes from the clock that glows in front of my eyes. It was no different on this day.

Today was a day trip to Big White to check in the first rental of the season. I needed to get the place ready for the guests coming in at 4:00 pm, I also needed to ski the fresh powder that coated the icy slopes.

I arrived at my mountain home in good time, it was 8:20 and the plaza chair wasn’t spinning yet. I saw the fresh coating of snow and an energetic excitement flowed through my veins. I was there in time to get some powder turns. I was in a hurry; there was fresh powder to ski.

I also needed to put a coat of touch-up paint in the bathroom and get geared up to go.

Have you ever been in a hurry and wanted to get stuff done so fast that things don’t work… that’s what happened to me. I unloaded my truck, grabbed the paint can, and rushed inside. I stirred the paint and set the stir stick down on the tile floor, without looking, I stepped in the fresh paint. Of course, when I stepped in paint I managed to step a few more spaces and left a trail behind me. I stopped, spotted my mistake, and grabbed a wet rag, and cleaned my way back to the offending stir-stick. I sighed in frustration and tried to concentrate.

With some focus and rapid movements, I headed to the lift at 9:00 to meet my buddy, Dave. I was only thirty minutes behind and there were still some fresh lines to carve in the virgin snow. We met at the bottom of the chair and rode the lift to the top of the Ridge. Paradise called to us and we rode the fresh snow on the edge of the run. Even on a weekday, the fresh powder can be skied out on the main runs fairly quickly, especially when there is a layer of solid ice underneath. When we rode the steeps the snow slid and so did we. Solid ice is better for skates than skis.

First world problems abound. I knew that my day couldn’t be too bad when the worst thing that happened was I stepped in wet paint.

We got to the top of the bullet after my snowboarding neighbour joined us. The temptation to ski the steepest terrain on the mountain was too great, we turned right off the top and went to the Easter chutes. The Easter chutes are a northern facing set of trees and narrow chutes that end up at the bottom of the cliff beside Rhonda Lake. Usually, these trees have the best snow on the mountain, usually.

When there was freezing rain to the top of the hill on Tuesday the snow froze to solid ice. The Easter chutes did not escape the mountain wide freeze. We thought the new snow and powder would make the trees great to ride. We thought wrong.

The snow was deceptive as I dove my skis hard into the steep terrain, the first four turns were a taste of exhilaration and fear. My speed picked up as I cranked another turn and stopped. My breathing increased and my hands squeezed my ski poles like they were a lifeline.

I jumped hard and cranked the next turn and hoped my momentum would come to a halt. Snow skidded away in an avalanche as the blue ice under the 18 cm revealed its treacherous presence. My buddy cranked his next turn and rocketed out of sight to my right and above me. Our snowboarding friend disappeared. He seemed better equipped to handle the intensity of the unpredictable turns.

Survival turns.

My heart raced and I relished every breath as I jumped and pushed my skies in an attempt to control my speed and direction. The ice was fast under the powder, the slope was so steep, the powder barely hung on. So did I…

Then the end was in sight and I breathed deep and celebrated the victory of survival. I saw my friend waiting on his snowboard in front of Rhonda Lake smiling at me as I slid up. We both turned to watch for our other buddy to join us.

And waited.

After what felt like fifteen minutes, but was really only five, Dave pushed his was way up the ski-out in front of us. The sun shine reflected off his helmet and he smiled a huge smile as he hauled himself up out of breath and beaming.

“Did you miss the traverse?” I asked as he slid up to join us.

“No, I kept going on purpose. The snow looked amazing, those last five turns were worth every minute of pain.” He leaned on his poles and grinned the grin of a man regaining his youth.

His smile was a moment of connection and understanding. The run was a reflection on how we are as a species. His attitude was a reassurance of the human spirit. It didn’t matter how tough the upper part of the run was. He wasn’t bothered by the extra effort it took to get out of it, My friend pursued what he wanted and enjoyed every second. Dave reminded me of what we ski for. He found the beautiful fresh powder snow. He found joy in that moment of pure connection with his skis and the world around him. It’s what we live for…