A Few Stories About Skiing

It's getting chillier in Cold Cold Canada as winter rapidly approaches. My home town has already seen snow and the east coast has already been hit by the first huge snow storm of the season. Here in sunny, temperate Windsor it's getting a little cold. The temperature has dipped below freezing overnight a time or two and the heat has been on in my little house for some time.

This has really got me thinking of winter, winter sports and such. When I was a small child, like many small children in Canada I played ice hockey. I was not overly good, or really good at all. As I recall I played hockey until it was made clear to me that I had a choice. I could sleep in Saturday mornings in the winter, or I could play hockey. Hockey didn't stand a chance. I am not a morning person.

A few years past and the year I was in the fifth grade I changed schools and on a school trip I was introduced to downhill skiing for the first time. Several of my friends had been skiing for years. Both DevilBoy and Eggman had been doing it since about the time they were able stand on their own. So, I was coming to this party a little late.

My first lesson went rather well. I mastered the snowplow and was going down the medium difficulty hills in no time. It was great and I wanted to do it again.

So, my family joined a ski club and myself, my brother, my sister and mother all learned to ski. (As an accountant, winter is my dad's busy season. Hence, no skiing for him)

Years passed and eventually I became a ski instructor. Ironically this meant getting up crazy early in the morning again. But at least this time I was getting paid for it.

My job consisted of showing up early in the morning, doing some early runs and development with the rest of the instructors, then I'd meet my class for our morning session. I'd teach until lunch, break for an hour, and then do the afternoon session.

I always taught small children, from preschool to maybe 6 or 7. They were... Delightful.

I remember one little boy who did not like staying with my class and doing nice big turns down the hill. He'd break away, bomb down the hill and meet us at the bottom. I asked him not to do that a couple of times and was ignored. I then scolded him mildly and told him that he must stay with the class. His rebuttal mostly involved sticking his head in a snow bank. I wasn't really able to come up with a retort that matched that... Luckily for me his dad happened across my class at that point and told me that he'd take care of his child and I should just continue with my class. This seemed like a splendid idea, so off I went. I was later told that his father had not had much more luck with my favourite student who had, in fact, left his head in the snowbank until he came down with frost bite.

Another great story involved a the time I lost another little boy on the chairlift. I'd just started my class on the big hill at the club. Getting to the lip of this particular hill involved backtracking a little bit down a gentle slope the way the chairlift had come. I was passing over that area in the chairlift with the boy by my side when I put the safety bar up, possibly a little early. I liked to do that so I'd have plenty of time to prepare to get off. This time, however, it didn't turnout to be such a good idea as my little friend dropped off the chair shortly after I did that. My first reaction was panic. I had to get to my possibly injured student, who had clearly fallen from the chairlift as soon as possible. I briefly contemplated jumping after him, but looking at the hard packed snow 10 feet beneath me convinced me that this was not a good idea. Injuring myself would not help anyone. So, I rode the chair to the end, silently urging it to go faster. Once I got off I skated to where my student had landed and fast as was humanly possible. The kid had landed in the one area of powder snow the chairlift passed over and was fine. Also, the event that just nearly caused me a heart attack and stress aneurysm hadn't been an accident. The darling child had jumped.

Later in the day the students father told DevilBoy that he'd considered joking with me over taking legal action, but after having seen how pale and shell shocked I was after the incident, decided that that might not be the best idea.

There where a few lighter moment caused by instructors, too.

Once year I was paired with DevilBoy to teach a class and he showed up one morning after over indulging more than a little the previous night. I addressed the class to explain my friend's condition.

"Children, we're going to be very very quiet today. DevilBoy does not really feel very well."

To their credit, I think they were very quiet. DevilBoy kinda hung back and was pretty quiet himself that class.

Then there was the day that when we held the morning instructor ski and some of the hills had not been groomed and were still covered in a couple feet of powder. Powder is great to ski in, once you've had a little practice. You don't get that much skiing at a little resort in Ontario. After our last run we met at the bottom of the hill near the chalet. One after another, each of the instructors lined up. I was last. I was also completely covered in snow from head to toe, having taken a tumbled in the deep powder.

Not all of the misadventures took place on skies, either.

The ski club had a social aspect as well, and had a few parties a year. The ski instructors normally hung out and socialized at these events. Often we'd manage to get ahold of some beer (we were underage at the time) and possibly get a little over refreshed.

This hadn't been a good day for skiing. Freezing rain had been falling, covering the hills. By the time of the party, and the hills were covered in about an inch and a half of ice. Clever people that we were, we decide that it'd just be stupendous fun to climb up (the chairlift had been closed for several hours) and then slide down the steepest hill on our butts.

Up the hill we trudged. On instructor who was even swifter than the rest of us dragged a GT Snowracer behind him. Once we got to the lip of the hill, his common sense kicked in. Sadly, mine did not.

"I don't think I want to ride this thing down, after all" The instructor who'd had the sudden attack of logic said.

"I'll do it!" proclaimed a very drunk CanadaDave.

He handed over the sled and I hopped on it and headed down the hill. It was at about this point that I started to realize that this may not have been a really good idea.

Then, suddenly, I realized that I was no longer on the sled. I was actually going down the hill on my back. Head first. The GT Snowracer was racing down the hill beside me. Somehow I managed to escape with nothing worse than a bunch of ice crystals down my back.

I haven't done much skiing over the past couple of years. I'm hoping to get out a time or two this year, and I'd also like to teach SouthernKitten to ski. With any luck she won't stick her head in a snow bank.