After my disastrous “episodes” in New Zealand, I figured my skiing days were over, but then love came along in the form of a tall handsome guy called “David” (renamed to protect the not so innocent) in 1984 when I was living in Sydney.  David was very sporty – loved his cricket and going to strip clubs (as I found out later, but that’s another story and one I won’t be going into or mentioning in a future post).

David also loved to ski – not that he was very good at it, just fast and, in my opinion, very unstylish.  I used to refer to him as a “Kamikaze” skier.

Dating David was initially great – never argued, always laughing and enjoying the newness of a relationship.  So when David suggested we go skiing to Thredbo, I agreed, but with some trepidation considering my very unglamorous skiing history.

Thredbo at night

Thredbo Resort is a very pretty ski town located in the Snowy Mountains in southern New South Wales and was, at the time, about a 6 hour drive south of Sydney.

So, the plan was this:  David and I would leave Sydney at 1am on Saturday morning and drive the 6 hours to Thredbo, arriving at Jindabyne (the town at the base of the mountain) at about 7-8 am.  This would have been okay if I’d been able to sleep during the drive, but driving with David was taking your life in your hands as he insisted on over-taking on bends, sitting right on the rear of the car or truck in front of him, and generally driving like a mad man.  This behaviour was also reflected in his skiing.  But as his passenger, I would sit with my foot on the brake and knuckles white from gripping the nearest stable thing to me.  So by the time we arrived at Thredbo, I was what you’d mildly refer to as “out of my mind” with exhaustion and anxiety.

The newness of our relationship was wearing thinner by the mile, especially when I discovered that he wouldn’t let me stop for a restroom break!  But David was not entirely mean as he actually stopped for breakfast in Jindabyne and I vaguely remember snapping at the waitress.  Surprise, surprise!

Anyway, we continued on up to Thredbo resort, DID NOT check into the hotel first, just got our ski rental gear, parked the car and made our way to the slopes.  Now, for those of you who are lucky enough never to have ridden a pommer (Episode 1), or a T-bar, let me explain what a T-bar is:  It is a pole on a pulley, with a bar on either side of it which forms an upside down T.  The idea is that two people sit on each of the bars which form the seats and they hold on to the pole in the middle.  Like the pommer, you are not to “sit” on it, but rather let it pull you up the mountain.  Having had vast experience on pommers, the T-Bar was relatively easy.

A T-Bar

However, riding a T-Bar on a steeper incline can be quite challenging, as I found out on another ski trip to Perisher Resort (also in New South Wales) where on the steepest part of the mountain, a cross-country skier 6 T-Bars up from me and my passenger, fell off his, slid and crashed into the next two unsuspecting skiers, who then slid into the next two, and so on.  Unfortunately, by the time the person who loads skiers on the T-Bar noticed, it was too late as about 12 skiers had fallen to the left and to the right scrambling to find their skis.

But back to Thredbo.  David and I reached the top of the mountain, and he, in his infinite wisdom, decided not to take me down the beginner green run, but to take me to another area named “Crackenback” which was accessed by a cat-track.

To this day, one of the things I loathe about skiing is having to go down cat-tracks and I think the hatred stemmed from this incident, which was nothing short of traumatic.  The cat-track was narrow and reasonably steep for me, the beginner, with a sheer drop to the left of the trail. Even now, I will avoid a cat-track and trails if I can.

I somehow survived the cat-track only then to be faced with a more ominous task – skiing down a blue run which was very very icy.  Unlike Utah, where most of the time you ski on light fluffy snow because of the dryness of the climate, Australian ski slopes can resemble skiing in Vermont on the East Coast of the USA, and the slopes can get icy.

I’m a bit embarrassed to go on with this story now, because I think I cried all the way down while screaming at David through my tears for having been so inconsiderate, and I think I called him a few names.  Sleep deprivation will do strange things.  I fell over more times than I care to admit and think at one point, I actually took off my skis so I could slide down on my bottom for part of the way.

But I survived to tell yet another tale of woe on the slopes.

And what of David?  I’ll let you know in the next episode…..

But, Christmas Day is over as is what we Aussies and residents of other Commonwealth countries call “Boxing Day”.  Boxing Day (and I’ve just looked it up), is “traditionally a day following Christmas when wealthy people in the United Kingdom would give a box containing a gift to their servants”.  Now hands up who knew that! And hands up who still does that!

By way of background and for those of you who have not read the introduction to my blog, I volunteer one day a week at PCMR as a Lift Line Coordinator which I prefer to call, and which Seinfeld would have called a “Lift Nazi”, but which is professionally referred to as a Maze Controller or LLC.

I was lucky enough to land this volunteer position in late January 2011 as my husband and I moved to this delightful ski resort in December 2010.  I work on a Friday and you will more than likely find me looking more like a person who directs aircraft down at First Time lift – called this, because it is normally the first time anyone has put skis on their feet. This, as you can imagine, is an interesting place to work, but more about First Time in a future post.

So, this Christmas was interesting, particularly in the gift department.  Christmas back home is, generally, when most Aussies go on their annual vacation as the kids are on school holidays for an eternity, which I think is about 9 weeks (during which time some parents go completely mad), and most of Australia closes down for a month.

This is also when eager Australian skiers fly to the US or Europe for their skiing vacation, but when most head to the beach.  And this is where, for most of my life, I would spend my Christmas holidays during which time, the most I had to don for the day was a bikini, shorts and sandals.  However, now that I am living in Park City, I get to spend the best part of the day dressing for whatever activity I may be doing for the rest of that day.

For example, if I’m working on the mountain, I have to squeeze myself into two pairs of thermal tights, thermal base layer, fleece, another jacket, hat, gloves, glove warmers, two pairs of socks, foot warmers, and boots (I’m yet to find a pair that doesn’t make my toes feel like they don’t exist – suggestions anyone?), and then my uniform.  Strangely enough,the other night, my husband made me watch “Christmas Story” and I can totally relate to the little brother in that movie when his mother dressed him so he had to walk with his arms 90 degrees away from his body because he was wearing so many clothes.  In fact, the other day, I had to bend over to pick up something, and couldn’t!

Then, if I’m skiing, I get to do all of the above, except I get to experience what it’s like to nearly break my feet every time I put on my new ski boots – which once they’re on, are great!  I often recall, while sitting on the fender of my car putting on my boots, the Bill Cosby skit where he likened the pain of child birth to pulling your bottom lip over your head!

And if I’m snow-shoeing (which I have recently taken up thanks to my delightful and very energetic neighbors), I get to do most of the above, but carry a backpack too!

So, this means that this year, my Christmas gifts changed somewhat from lingerie, bikinis, sarongs, shorts and sandals, to ski boots, snowshoes, ski gloves, scarves – oh, and a foot massager for me to use at the end of a day of skiing or standing on the snow in -15F!

And what did you get for Christmas?

Merry Christmas everyone, and Happy New Year!

One of the things I love about skiing is getting on a chairlift and enjoying brief but enjoyable interludes with other skiers sharing the same chair.  It’s great finding out where people are from, what they do for a living, and generally chatting about the snow and skiing, or snowboarding.  (Actually, snowboarders don’t chat much, probably because they always have headphones plugged into their ears, which makes it almost impossible to strike up a conversation…as I found out just the other day when I said to the snowboarder beside me:  “so what’s the snow like?” End of conversation.)

But I digress (which my husband says I do a lot)!  Anyway,  on all the chairs I have ridden, I have yet to meet an unhappy skier.  Everyone I have had the joy of meeting on a chair lift or on the slopes has been happy, happy, happy, enjoying the elements, the views and the thrill of exercising all day in the “fresh” air (something I love, because it means I can pretty much eat anything!).

However, on several occasions, I have chatted with men who tell me that their wives won’t ski as they hated it after only one day, hence, they are skiing solo or with other male friends.  Upon further questioning, it appears that the reason their wives hated skiing was because said considerate husband, who was invited to a conference at a ski resort and who convinced his wife to go with him, subliminally thought he’d get some of his own back and terrify his beloved by taking her up to the top of the mountain and then telling her to “just ski down”!

This reinforces my theory discussed in Episode 3 in which I believe that people actually get some kind of sick satisfaction seeing someone else, even if you are married to them, frozen in fear! They must, because otherwise, why would anyone take anyone up to the top of a mountain and say “ski”?

Now listen up all you male skiers out there!  Here’s what you don’t appear to know.  Men do not have fear.  Women do!  I figure this is because if a man falls and breaks his leg, his wife/partner will take care of him, the children, the house etc. etc. like she always does – so nothing in his life changes much. Now, if a woman breaks her leg…..well, she’ll still have to do all those things, but on crutches!

So, if you want the woman in your life to enjoy the skiing experience as much as you do, put her in a lesson with other women, with a female ski instructor (because just in case you men didn’t know this either, women communicate entirely different to men…but I think you do know this), and let her take her time on a beginners slope.  Then, when she feels ready, take her to another beginners slope and ski “with” her, or if you ski ahead, wait for her every hundred yards or so.  Do NOT pressure her into going faster, or pretend that you are a ski instructor and give her a plethora of instructions on every turn.

And ladies, remember, don’t be too hard on yourselves.  Skiing is difficult and it takes patience and perseverance, but once you are able to turn and stop, and then enjoy the whole apres ski experience, you’ll begin to enjoy skiing, and eventually one day, even love it!

And if you need any encouragement, just re-read Episodes 1-3 of this blog and you’ll realize that we all have to start somewhere!

Skiing takes patience and perseverance

Postscript:  For anyone visiting Park City Mountain Resort, they are now offering a Ladies Club for ladies who want to ski with other women at the same level and taught by a female ski instructor.  Click here for more information.