Many people are talking about skiing now, which made me think about the only time I tried the sport. Born and raised in Saskatchewan, I didn't have the opportunity to learn. When I moved to B.C., next door to fantastic alpine slopes, I kind of wished I had. Commitments at home, a lack of funds and a little lack of motivation kept me from the ski hills though . . . until a friend and his two children invited me to join them on Silver Star.
"It's Lady's Day," he said. "You get a free lesson."
The day dawned bright and reasonably warm for my debut on the slopes. I signed up, shooed my companions off and met my instructor, a young man who looked slightly bored (and probably a little disappointed that his student wasn't young, blond and single!).
I strapped on skis and headed for the ski lift. When I got there, I didn't know how to get on. Who knew there was a trick to that? As I fumbled my way into the seat, I laughed. No one else did. Apparently these impatient skiers had no sense of humor!
The ride to the top of the bunny hill was short but thankfully uneventful. Let the games begin!
I had no problem staying upright on the skis so, with a few words of wisdom from my coach, I was ready to ski to the bottom, which I could easily see. It was not very far. Not so fast. My instructor had a different idea. He wanted to teach me to ski a short distance across the hill, turn, and ski back. That was a problem. Every time I turned, I fell. Every single time. I could stand up, keep my balance sliding down, but I could not keep on top of the skis when I turned.
My instructor was getting frustrated. I was getting determined. I couldn't believe I could make a simple turn on skis.
"Do you want to quit," he asked hopefully.
"No."
I don't know how long we were there, but I never really did learn to turn. I finally figured out that my body was "on a horse" when I turned and I used my weight exactly opposite to what I should have! I finally felt sorry for my instuctor, who couldn't believe I wasn't tired yet, and headed down the little hill. That I could do without falling!
I met my friend and his kids at the bottom.
"You look like a hot horse," he said. Clouds of steam rose from me. My jeans were soaked with snow and the rest of me with my own sweat. No fancy ski outfits for me. I had come in western clothes.
That is the only time I have been on skis, although I would have liked to go again. Two days later I was sick - really sick. Either I caught a flu from my escapade in the snow or one of the stone-faced skiers at the ski lift gave it to me.
0 comments:
Post a Comment