Usually on a weekend in the winter you can find me at Mount Evergreen Ski Club, my home away from home. I've been skiing here every winter since I was about 4 years old when I learned to ski on the little hill beside the parking lot. Eventually I mastered that little hill, both down and up, and pushed my way across the flats to the t-bar and the Real Ski Hills.
I usually walk to the hill from my house. It's pretty far; sometimes I am lucky and I get a ride. There's a shortcut to the hill on a skidoo trail through the bush once I get to Skyline store; packed by snowmobiles its easy to walk on. If I haven't gotten a ride by the time I get to the store, then I take the shortcut. I have to carry all of my ski stuff when I go; my arms can get pretty tired. It's better when I can use a boot tree to hold my boots together, although sometimes they pop right out of it. I have a good system to put my skiis and poles together: the skiis through the pole straps, and then wrap the safety strap around tight and clip it. That keeps everything together and I don't drop anything.
Often I'm one of the first ones at the hill. Mr. and Mrs. Symonds live right at the hill though so I am never there before them. Mrs. Symonds runs the chalet, and Mr. Symonds loves to cross country ski around the property. Not very many people cross country ski at the hill usually, but he always does. He told me one time about Jackrabbit Johannsen, a man who is a hundred years old and STILL loves to ski! I think Mr. Symonds will ski until he is a hundred, too.
Mrs. Symonds doesn't ski, but she loves to be in the chalet. Mostly she sells the lift tickets. She also works behind the lunch counter. Her granddaughters sometimes work there too - Ivy and Frances. They are really fun girls and sometimes they will give me swampwater for FREE! The swampwater is really good - it's the pop that is left in the tray when they fill a cup and it overflows into the tray. I always bring my lunch with me but sometimes I find a quarter or a dime on the floor to get a hot chocolate.
Finally arriving at the hill on this sunny cold Saturday, I bring my skiis down to the ski rack in front and head into the chalet. After going upstairs to see who is around (no-one yet), and saying Hi to Mrs. Symonds at the ticket counter, I head back downstairs to get my stuff on. My ski boots are black leather with laces inside and silver buckles outside. I got them this year from the swap shop and they look really great, especially since I blackened them up with shoe polish to look like new. Downstairs is the spot for changing your boots and I usually find a place on the bench where I can tuck my winter boots, my boot rack and my lunch. I take my time to get the boots buckled up just right so my feet won't get cold right away - not too tight or too loose. I do have a couple of pairs of socks on, but some days they get cold really quickly anyway. I wait around but there aren't many people out here yet, although Mr. Myles and his crew already have the t-bar running. If it gets busy enough, and if he has enough help, he'll start the rope tow too, usually around lunch time. You use the rope tow to get up to the Big Hill, Skyline - the rope tow is so fast it just zips you up the hill! It's not for little kids. The sun is warm coming in the window as I put on my boots, although I know from my walk this morning that skiing will be quite frosty.
Boots buckled and lunch stowed, I head out to the ski rack. I love the way the ski boots make me walk heel-toe, heel-toe, stomp stomp stomp. I push the door open and squint at the sunlight sparkling off the snow. There's a light dusting of new snow this morning, and the sparkling is beautiful. In the quiet, still air, I can hear the t-bar tinkling as a bar goes around the big wheel at the bottom of the hill and heads back up again. Boots squeeking in the snow, I walk over to get my skiis off the rack and use my poles to scrape the snow from the bottom of my boot before stepping into the bindings. With the binding cable around the back of my skiboot, I push the front of the binding down and it snaps into place. Then I carefully wrap the safety strap around my snowpants and clip it. It's hot work, all this fiddling around, bent over and bundled up, but eventually I've got them on. It is easier putting them on, when you're still warm, then taking them off when you are freezing cold! Straightening up, I squint out over to the t-bar. There aren't too many people around yet, but that's because I've come so early. It's the best time to make some nice tracks on the hill, before everyone else arrives. I love skiing in the morning.
I head away from the chalet, a big pole push to get started and ski-skate across the flats just like I've seen the big kids do it. It took me awhile to learn how, but now I can get going pretty fast and I'm at the t-bar corral in no time. No line ups, so I go right up. Mr. Miles is there today and he smiles at me and we say good morning. I slide into place and Mr. Miles passes the t-bar for me, just right, and away I go up the hill. He never passes the t-bar wrong; I've seen him teach all kinds of people how to get on. He makes it look so easy, even when someone really tall and a really little kid get on together.
On my way up the hill, I stare at my skiis in the tracks, watching as they slip up and down. Matt is working today, shoveling out the dips in the track so it stays flat and people won't fall off. He moves his shovel at the last minute and we say Hi as I go past. He's a good skier. The t-bar makes a jangling noise as it goes past one of the posts holding the cable; I love that sound - it makes me smile and hum a little song. As I get close to post number five, I make sure my skiis are in the track properly and both hands are holding on - one holding the bar and the other the edge of the crossbar. Sure enough, as I pass by this bar near the top of the hill, I get lifted out of the track - just a little - wheee! It's fun when I'm on by myself. Sometimes I'll even give a little hop so that it lifts me a bit higher! And already now I'm at the top. Jim is up here today with his dog, a red Irish Setter named Red. His dog wears a bandana; I haven't seen dogs with bandanas before Red, except in pictures. I hear the whoosh as I take the bar from behind me and make sure it doesn't swing, even a little bit, so that Jim doesn't have to do a thing. I smile and say hi, and turn right, over to Otter Slide.
I pause at the top of the hill to pick my line, decide which way I'll go. I love the way there are dips all over the hill, it's not just wide and flat. There are trees to ski around, not too many but just enough. There are bumps too, that if you know how to hit just right you will catch some air. Someone has been out before me, I can see their tracks - the hill has been groomed recently and it's just like corduroy. Perfect. Even here the sun is making the snow all sparkly and I know my eyes will water once I get started, but that's okay. I pull my hat down a little lower and my scarf up a little higher and then I push off. It's just like flying. I'm free, I'm soaring all over the hill, I'm making my own tracks, I'm going fast and my nose is cold and I don't care.
