Some Ass Over Tea Kettle Memories

I can't even remember the last time I went skiing/boarding; all I know is there is a dry, rusty snowboard sitting angrily in my dad's cold cellar in Guelph and the foam around my goggles has started to crumble.  But with Toronto's recent snowmagedon, today's perfect weather, and --most importantly-- a free day pass with gear rentals (sorry cellar-captive board), we rented a car and headed to Mansfield to see if our knees were too old to handle a day on the hills.  Despite a few falls, I am happy to discover that snowboarding is just like riding a bicycle...only in that it all comes back easily, otherwise the two have absolutely nothing in common.

Being on the hill lead me to recall a couple fond skiing/boarding memories of yonder, which I'd like to share with anyone who stumbles upon my blog:


Story One - 
A leading cause as to how my friends and I caught the skiing bug in the first place, was back in middle school when our math teacher formed a Skiing Club.  Looking back now, it was a brilliant tactical maneuver on both his and our parts.  He was able indulge a personal passion and veneer it as extra curricular participation, all while skipping work for a day every three weeks during the winter.  Genius!  We were able to skip a day of school every three weeks during the winter months and mask it off as school spirit...and get exercise, learn a new sport, blah blah blah...but mostly skip school.  All that, plus my mom used to buy me a litre bottle of the sparkling flavoured water every time I went on a ski trip, so that was pretty special too.

On one of these such trips the skiing conditions were not so great, and Laurie had just passed her skills test to have free run of the park.  Sandra, Jackie and I decided that trial by fire was in order, and we led her straight to one of the black diamond runs.  Not only was the hill steep and covered in moguls, but unbeknownst to us it was also layered in a respectable sheet of ice.  We charged down that hill the way that only fearless tweens can, and that sheet of ice reached out and sucker punched Laurie.  Sandra stayed with her, but Jackie and I were at the bottom of the hill before we realized that she was hurt, and rushed back up to 'rescue' her.  The ice went for round two and tried to give us the same treatment it bestowed upon Laurie.  We both went ass over tea kettle and nearly took her out bowling ball style.  Luckily, our aim was as good as our skiing and we managed to avoid damaging her any further.  That trip ended with Laurie being put in a body bag and snowmobiled to the first aid room.  She was later found to have torn her ACL and needed to be on crutches for months afterwards.

Story Two - 
My second time ever snowboarding was at Lake Louise, because it seems I like punishment.  I rose to the occasion and was able to follow my born-in-Alberta friend Dale on nearly all the runs that day.  So impressed with my new found ability, he decided it would be a great denouement for our last run to be from the top of the mountain.  From that peak we'd be able to see all the mountains and nearly touch the sun.  Sounded like a good plan.

We took the ski lift for a good 15 minutes to what I thought was the top of the mountain, but it was actually only as far as the ski lift was capable of going.  From there we still had to board a t-bar and travel damn near vertically up the precipice.  Now, I know you're like "So what? They use t-bars on bunny hills", but to you I say using a t-bar on a snowboard is more difficult than using it on skis since you have to face sideways.  Furthermore, using a t-bar to go up an unreasonably steep slop is bloody hard on your muscles, particularly after a whole day of 'sink or swim' snowboarding.  And finally, to ice the damned cake, using a t-bar at the end of the day after a ton of people before you have carved ruts into the route with their skiis is nearly impossible.  I managed to get a third of the way up to the top of the mountain when my board caught a rut and my wussy arms couldn't re-balance me.  I. Just. Couldn't. Hang. On. Any. Longer.

So I bailed, but with the last of my energy I bailed to the side so as not to take out nearly every single person behind me.  Except for Dale.  He dove out of line in hopes of literally saving my neck, but instead, I just crashed into him and he joined my human snowball.

We flipped ass over tea kettle, picking up speed with our snowboards ratcheted to our feet, flailing all over.  The people in the line behind us were wide eyed and gasping in horror as we tumbled all the way back to the top of the chair lift.  Again, I know you're thinking "Big deal, I used to roll down hills all the time when I was a kid", but to you I say this hill was not a hill, it was a freaking MOUNTAIN.  And we tumbled with planks of metal rimmed wood strapped to our feet in a double human snowball forever...kilometres...hours...DAYS!  We were motion sick, bruised and disoriented when we finally stopped, and it's only by the grace of God that neither of us were broken or missing any teeth.  We called it a day after that.

Actually wait...I guess that's why I haven't been snowboarding in years.