January 25, 2007

There is one thing certain – sooner or later, within a span of three days, you are going to experience every imaginable ski condition known to man. Where else but Whistler? Take last Monday for instance – the snow was falling so hard that by lunch time there was at least 20 cm new. In the afternoon the sun poked its head out of the clouds for a brief moment as if to taunt us with the rays. By the end of the day the pukefest had returned and we were, once again, getting buried in snow.

Tuesday was looking like an epic day. We (the coaches) go up the mountain at 7:30 am to set up courses, close off the Upper Dave Murray Downhill, etc. Much to our sadness (read: delight) there was too much fresh snow to set up. When this happens, it is mandatory, strictly enforced by our management, that we hit up and get the first tracks either in Goat's Gully or Upper Insanity.

Now, we would much rather slither down a groomer, but rules are rules. Upper Insanity got the nod on that morning. Can you feel our pain as we are forced to shred this untouched, pristine, steep, delicious (I can't believe I used that word) ski run? I know that you can't feel our pain, but you can feel my sarcasm. The Professor (Mark), Andree and I had the run of our lives. We were all giddy on the way up the lift, just like little kids, yet our combined age is nearing 150. But this is what we live for – ripper first runs of the morning. And we have had some epics over the years.

Anyway, this Tuesday was looking like a winner in the morning, but by the afternoon the temperature shot way above zero and all of that fluffy snow turned to wet cement. These conditions had an adverse effect on the skiing ability and general leg strength of my athletes. We concluded that it would be much safer if we retreated to the GLC and commenced the activity at which we are self professed professionals – beer drinking. Here, everyone displayed flawless technique, gracefully lifting full glasses to parted lips, through which the amber nectar flowed in long swallows. It was poetry in motion. Carefully choreographed moves in a blend of individual skills. Just like skiing!


Well, as the pitchers emptied, tongues loosened and stories were told. This is my favorite; we were skiing in the Ho Chi Minh Trail and Lower VDs when I spotted a pair of skis about 80 feet up in the cliffs. Since there was not a body attached to the skis, I called the Ski Patrol to inform them of this unnatural body/skis separation. They told me that they will look into it and also informed me that a certain John Kindree, (Dr. Death, The Verminator) was busy bleeding all over their first aid room. It is John's theory that if you are not bleeding, you are not learning. Well, it seems that Johnny, being the big kid that he is (at 55) and lacking enough grey matter to make rational decisions, likes to knock off the icicles off the side of the roof with his pole as the chair comes into the top station. One of these icicles decides to come down and stab Johnny just below the eye…

Wednesday broke out cool and sunny. All that wet slop from the previous day has now set into rock hard concrete. One did not dare to tread off piste unless they wanted to rattle loose all of their fillings. On the other hand, the groomers were insanely fast and smooth. It was time to get acquainted with Miss Speed. Franz's and Dave Murray Downhill were totally buffed. We got the race off under perfect conditions. Exhilarating would have to be the best word to describe that day. This is for sure – speed is like a drug; you get a little taste of it and you'll want more.

It looks like we will taste a lot more speed as the weather is to remain sunny and clear.

Oh yeah, I guess that Johnny did not bleed enough on Tuesday, because he did not learn much from his icicle experience. Apparently, he was spotted to be busy knocking off more icicles on Wednesday. Did I mention any grey matter between Johnny's ears?

The fun continues…

See you at a camp!