It was a winter vacation to remember. It all took place at Sir Sam’s Ski Resort in Halliburton, Ont. We were eight friends in all, only five of whom downhilled. The remaining three, Jamaican born Persis, Jemma from England, and myself, the wholesome Canadian – did not ski. We Canadians are supposed to know everything winter related, right? Wrong! But if the two foreigners were going for it so would I.
After renting equipment, we headed for the kiddy slope. There were a few other adults in line, the difference being they were there with their kids. It was a bit embarrassing but I went ahead, tucked my poles under my arms and bent down to take the rope pulley up the hill. Now, I am a six foot-four man and this toe rope was made for three-foot tall children. But after I hit a few of the parents in the face with my poles, for which I apologized, I was on my way up.
I was not used to downhill skis and my lack of coordination didn’t help with me keeping in a straight line. Twice I managed to get myself stuck, and I would end up coming to a complete halt, stopping the motion of people behind me. On occasion some even got fed up and walked around. When I reached the top, I let go too early and slide backwards into the line; again causing a raucous!
Krista, one of my good friends, a pretty good skier but lousy instructor, tried her best to get me going once I gathered myself after the toe rope fiasco. “Make a pie with your skis.” Those were her words of wisdom. Off I went down the hill straight for a couple of feet, then to the left and back into the line of victims coming up. The only way I knew how to stop was to fall down. I know technically there is a better way but, come on, I was panicking way too much for logic.
I swiveled with my butt and used my knees to get to the other side of this small but treacherous hill, all the while watching little ones speed right by, some even without poles. The show-offs!
My friend, who patiently stuck with me, gave the same instructions. I got to my feet and tried it again, only to quickly end up on my rear sliding further down the hill. At least, I figured, I was now making some progress. At this point Krista was done and wanted to go do her own thing. I was too busy thinking that the little girl skiing by was on her third run and I hadn’t even done my first. But I do remember waving Krista away. Now I was on my own. I quickly decided two things. The ‘pie’ thing was out, and my butt was the way to go. I was going to coast down the remaining way on it. And that is what I did.
My two novice friends were both standing at the bottom when I got there with smiles on their faces; so much for being the superior dude from Canada.
I will never forget that day. It was my one and only run up and down the hill. At least I gave my friends and probably most on the hill a chuckle; unless of course they just wanted to kill me.
Published in: More of Our Canada January 2011
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