Skiing into the lift line for one of the t-bars to drag me back up the mountain and a bloke standing at the front of the line waiting asks, “Single?” “Mate, it’s complicated, but there’s this girl I like…” “Good. We’ll talk about it on the t-bar ride up.”
For those who aren’t completely familiar with what happened, the bloke waiting was asking me if I was going up the t-bar by myself. He obviously was and so to go up with another person makes the riding of the t-bar less difficult and less painful.
I was being a smartass to that guy however I suspect the young girl with a mouth full of scrap metal wasn’t being a smartass to me. Like the bloke in the situation above, I put the question forward to her, “Single?”. “What?” “Are you a single?” “Umm yeah I guess so.” Great! I’m not going to have to ride this t-bar feeling and looking like one of those air balloon people that car dealers put at the front of the dealership to make you feel bad about the fact the only job a rubber guy with no bones can get is flapping himself around trying to get your attention. How this makes you want to buy a car, I have no idea.
You look like a gumby on a t-bar because you’re trying to balance out the other side of the thing so one of the pointy ends doesn’t make friends with your old fella; so you don’t end up with a kid half human, a quarter plastic and a quarter steel. I jumped to the far side of the batters plate so this girl can move in next to me and the lifty can play ball. She doesn’t move. Instead, she’s telling her mum about what I said to her as her mother stares at me discontentedly. ‘Are you A single’ not ‘are you single’, stupid human.
Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday were bluebirds for days! Not a cloud in the sky and a sun that made the white stuff sparkle. The clean crisp alpine air throwing back memories of the 3am drive south that painted wild brumbies running through golden grass and eucalypt. The sun waking up and scaring away the thick cloud sitting on the middle of the subtemperate road as I am reintroduced to Lake George. A handful of photographs, including the marvelling of man’s creation of wind turbines (I’m a ‘big fan’) that can be seen on the horizon. The serenity of the Australian country is not nearly enjoyed by people as it need be. Nothing can be compared to watching the sunrise in rural Australia, knowing that the day install is going to be a bloody cracker!
As beautiful as it is, six hours of staring at the same thing gets pretty dull. This resulted in me having a bit of fun on the way down. Couple of cheeky GoPro selfies and the most interesting uninteresting realisation you’ll come across all day. The excitement of road line markings. There’s a point heading towards the Aussie Alps where the line markings on the road change from white to yellow. This is because at the point of the change, somebody with authority has figured that this is the exact point it can start snowing from. It reminds me of the bloke who decided that the first weekend of October was the most suitable for Daylight Savings to kick in. Why is he so special that he got the responsibility of determining when to be able to change time?
White lines on a road full of snow is as useful as tits on a bull. The ecstasy of that moment of the line colour change is one that reflects the understanding that you’ve made it. You’re all but there. The long drive down is almost worth it. A better summary is the one I recorded on my drive down on Wednesday.
I have been fortunate enough to have been skiing since I was 4 years old and have only ever missed out on one season that I can recall. It was the season of 2012 and the reason behind this was due to the fact I was being a Backpacking Battler around Europe for the same length of time it takes to deal with any type of telephone customer service; 6 months. I state these facts because at this stage of my skiing career, I want to continue to challenge myself and so as a result, I decided to time myself to see the fastest speed I could hit skiing down the mountain. Flatlining it down the Supertrail in Thredbo, or Shredbo as it’s better known, I managed to hit 120km/h. Absolutely flogging it down, the aim was to beat 100km/h so I instantly decided to retire.
(120km/h @ 09:24am using Ski Tracks Lite iPhone App)
During my trip I was called a holiday hog by somebody I know and I pretty quickly refuted that comment. I am not going on holidays when I travel, I am experiencing what the world has to offer, first hand. A lot of the travel I do is a piece of cake (weird reference and no idea where it came from and why people refer to cake as being easy – everyone knows that making a good, tasty cake takes time and effort) however there are some points of it which can allude to some stress. I like to think of these moments as the extension english and extension mathematics of my world education. They’re difficult, but you get through them praying like hell you don’t fail. But if you do, as long as you’re still alive and not too battered from the experience, you do whatever you can in your power to have another crack and make sure you don’t fail again.
(enjoying the slopes with old man Perks)
As I had to leave to come back for university (life) on Sunday arvo, I managed to get in a few runs to ski some pow pow in the gnar gnar that was puking from the sky. I never want to leave as it is let alone when I have to leave when that’s happening. I’m going to try my best to get back down there this weekend to make good of this new snow! Somebody has to
