A week and a half ago (which feels like it was about 10 years ago) I got a very warm hearted email from the guy that runs the ski club I’m in. Mind you, I’ve never actually met this guy or anything, but he was sorry from the bottom of his heart that the two ski trips I had paid for were being cancelled due to mother nature being a heartless bitch this year. He didn’t actually say that last part. I just threw it in there.
As with most things these days, I took it in stride. Hopefully, it would start snowing soon and hey I was heading north nevertheless, so I could check out some international skiing. That sounds so glam. Gstaad, here I come.
Well, it wasn’t quite Gstaad, but I did get to ski at an extremely nice resort called Mont Sainte Anne near Quebec. I’ve said it many times up here. God, do I ever love skiing. Every year when the season starts up again I think — this year, maybe I won’t like this anymore, but low and behold I do. More than I did the year previous. I think about different things when I’m on the ski lift and I still can’t get over the fact that a couple of years ago, skiing was something that never crossed my mind I would even consider doing and here I am, doing it. Yesterday I didn’t even look to see what the difficulty rating of any of slopes were I was going on. I just kind of pointed the pythons and off we went.
It was a really great day. I’m sore today and for a first ski trip of the season, it was like a mid season ski trip for me a couple of years ago with the amount of skiing I did and the quality of the skiing I did.
OK, enough words. Let’s get to the good stuff: