After 3 weeks in Vancouver, we decided it was time to visit a picturesque mountain village, one that has become over populated by young Australians who snowboard all day and drink beer all night. I'm talking about a little place called... Whistler.
On Monday morning we woke at the crack of dawn to catch a Greyhound bus to Whistler. And by 10 am we'd arrived in the centre of the beautiful village. Not only was it a public holiday in Canada, it was also the last day of the ski season and the town was packed with revelers enjoying the fortunate break in rain and cloudy skies.
Without wasting any time, Josh and I hit the slopes of Blackcomb. Josh had never skied before, so this time I was the instructor. As we climbed higher on the ski lift, I began to feel more nervous. I hadn't skied in nearly 4 years, and that was once in Mt Bulla and before that was on a high school ski trip to New Zealand. And I was about to teach Josh?
Once off the lift, we had the option of skiing either left and right. To left was the "Zig Zag" run and to the right, the "Cruiser" run. Most people were going to the left, but they looked like they knew what they were doing. I thought Josh is yet to master stopping, let alone turning and Cruiser sounds easier than Zig Zag, right? So off we skied, thinking this isn't so hard. But just around the corner was 50 metre vertical drop off. I guess we should have gone left.
After nervously waiting at the top for 10 minutes, we were yet to sum the courage to attempt the ski down. Other skiers were flying past us, actually lifting off the ground as they sped down the cliff. I nervously babbled, "I can't do this! Josh you can't do this!" Josh started to panic too. "Why did you take us this way?"
But there was no use just standing there, the only way to go is down. Josh was the first to take off. He skied 10 metres and then fell, tumbling like a snow ball with his skis and arms flying in every direction. I was laughing hysterically. He managed to get up, only to fall again. But this technique worked, Josh had made it to the bottom and now he was waiting for me.
Well there was no way I was going to fall down the side of a mountain. It looked painful. I took off my skis and held them across my chest. I sat down on the snow and gave myself a little nudge. Suddenly I was rocketing down the hill, sliding on my bum and laughing all the way down.
From then on, we made sure we stuck to the green beginner routes and it got easier from there. Josh fell a few more times and our bodies was starting to tire from the effort but we were glad to have the hang of it. And soon enough, we were loving it!
Once the last hours of the winter season were over, it was time for us to return our gear and have a well deserved hot shower. As we trekked the kilometre back to the ski hire store, still wearing our boots and carrying our skis, I was singing "I'm walking on Sunshine" to myself. When in actual fact, it felt like I was walking on razor blades while wearing cement shoes with barb wire wrapped around my ankles.
The next morning we woke up feeling like we'd been hit by a train. Every part of our bodies ached and tried to lift our legs as little as possible as we walked. We found a t-shirt that we felt summerised our day on the slops: "If you smell burning, don't worry. It's just your thighs."
