We have survived our Christmas/New Year break, complete with skiing trip to Kicking Horse and whilst it went off without significant incident, there were of course a couple of minor adventures along the way.
Things started very well for us, having successfully hosted Christmas lunch for the 3rd year running. This year our guests were the Handicotts and Gauthier’s along with their parents and we had a fabulous lunch that stretched through to dinner and a bit of pool before ending relatively early. We took the opportunity to pack for our ski trip and planned for an early get away on Boxing day as we were to drive all the way to Banff, a leisurely drive of some 840kms.
Against all departure traditions, we actually managed to cram into the well packed car and head off relatively on time and with a single stop for food and petrol around Edmonton, managed to complete the exercise in about 9 and a half hours with no flat tires, no vomit nor any other unforeseen adventures. Whew!
We bunked down for the night in Banff and then headed on to Lake Louise so that we could ski there as a family (for the first time since our very first Canadian Skiing experience way back in Novmber of ’07). Caroline and I had given each other new skis for Christmas, so we were very keen to get up the mountain and explore. We had a great day skiing, balancing Michael’s complaints that everything was too easy and that he only wanted to do a double black diamond, with Emily’s terror of any icy patches and my reluctance to push myself too far beyond the nice flat spots that I enjoy so much. (I don’t mind a black run, but really dislike a bumpy run).
In the end, we covered a fair bit of the mountain and as legs grew tired and children less willing late in the day, I sent Caroline and Michael off to explore some less sane areas of the mountain and I took Emily, Thomas and Sam on some friendly parts. We finished up for the day and went to Lake Louise where we had a room booked for the night (no, not at that hotel). We did stop by there though to check out a bit of ice carving before heading back to our nearby (much less luxurious) hotel where we enjoyed a nice dinner and spa. The following day we returned to the Lake Louise ski area and spent another day further exploring the slopes before driving on to Kicking Horse for the main event.
We arrived at Kicking Horse around dinner time and discovered that we’d managed to book great accommodation and cooked ourselves some dinner before meeting up for drinks with some of the other Aussies that had also decided to make the trip for a couple of drinks ahead of the first day’s skiing.
Day 1 of the ski adventure involved getting Emily and Thomas booked into ski lessons (Sam and Michael weren’t interested for different reasons) before heading up to the top of the mountain. We managed to fit in a quick green run off the chair (the gondola goes all the way to the top of the mountain) before dropping them off and heading off on their own.
Caroline, Michael, Sam and I all trooped aboard the Gondola at that point to find out what the top of the mountain looked like. Before we even got there, I was seriously considering that I may not have packed enough underwear for the trip and wondering how the hell I was going to find my way back down again. And the whole time that we’re travelling up over rocky faced cliffs and seemingly near vertical ski runs, Michael is busy intoning that they’re not bad, he thinks it looks boring. Yes, I was ready to slap him, especially where some of the runs that were looking particularly scary to me were only blue!
Eventually we did make it to the top and had just started to make our way down the easiest path we could (much to Michael’s disgust) when my phone rang. It was one of the other Aussies ringing to say that Thomas’ teacher had just brought him back because he wasn’t feeling well. Crap. That meant that we needed to get down there as fast as we could (oh shit) to look after him. It was quickly agreed that Sam and I would take the safest way down whilst Caroline and Michael would seek the quickest way down. In the end, they beat us by about 10 minutes. The safe way takes a bloody long time as it involves skiing along a road that cuts back and forth across the face of the mountain (though Sam and I did jump onto a blue run for part of the way once we found one I thought was ok – and I loved it)!
At that point, I took Thomas back to the chalet (his stomach wasn’t feeling well) and Sam also took the opportunity to get out of skiing for the rest of the day. I jumped on the chair at the bottom of the mountain and skied the easier parts whilst I waited for an opportunity to catch up with Caroline and Michael. I then managed one more trip up the Gondola with them in the afternoon just in time to ski back down to pick up Emily from her lesson. There wasn’t much skiing for us after that and I took the chance to go into town and buy some food for dinner. Oh, and some fireworks too!
Day 2 was going to be a bit more adventurous and I was really keen to get out of the chalet early and ski on my own for a bit before meeting up with everyone else. In the end though, I took Thomas and Sam with me as they were going to have a bit of an easy early ski (which didn’t turn out to be early at all. Caroline went to drop Emily off for her lesson and I took Sam and Thomas up the chair). We’d managed a single run down the hill when Thomas decided that he actually wasn’t really up to it and so it was back to the chalet for us. On the way, the Griswalds came to visit and I ended up with a buggered calf (see here for more on that one), laid out in the chalet with ice for company. I’d made it all the way to 10:30am on day 2 (insert several four letter words here).
At that point, Caroline had her own little bit of the Griswalds in trying to get some pain killers for me. 2 hours after I called her to ask her to pick some up, she’d been back and forth and up and down the mountain, in and out of first aid stations and eventually one of the other Aussies showed up at the door with some of her left over medication. Caroline never did actually get me any despite her best efforts *sigh*. I snuggled down with my misery until everyone had finished skiing at which point I grabbed the Bundy and got to tell my terribly lame story over and over again, whilst listening to all the tales of the mountain.
Day 3 (New Year’s Eve) started with a much appreciated, if less than sober New Year’s phone call from Jason and Bel at 8am Canada time and then a whole lot of sitting on my arse whilst everyone had fun.
Lunch had been planned to be had by most of the adults at the Eagle’s Eye Restaurant and I decided that I’d join them just to break up the monotony. Michael came Caroline and I and after hobbling my way all the way to the Gondola, at least the rest of the afternoon was spent sitting down. And by the rest of the afternoon, I mean all of it, because the service was so bloody slow that it was all gone by the time that I finally got my steak. When they tell you it will take 18 minutes to cook a steak that someone has ordered well done, you expect a decent piece of beef. When, after 2 hours, they deliver a piece thin enough that it may well have come from Ethiopia’s last cattle ranch one is forced to wonder exactly what it was they were doing?! Needless to say, I left unimpressed and didn’t tip (a virtual crime over here).
The back end of the day was of course time to party, though it appeared that all the skiing had worn people out somewhat. I tried to get a head start on the drinking (given that was a sport I was still able to compete in) but in the end it didn’t really look like any one else was up for a particularly big night and I backed off so that we could head down to the revelry that was being hosted by the resort. It kicked off with a big air demo a little way up the mountain. That’s great if you can walk up a mountain but I was on one a bit legs at this point. I looked at stopping further down, but it quickly became apparent that I wasn’t going to see much and so struggled all the way up as far as I could manage until there was something to see. Turns out that as an organized event goes, it wasn’t particularly and so things were very slow.
Standing on one leg in the snow on a 30 degree for a show that was at best sporadic in its efforts was getting painful and at the point that my body indicated that it might like to engage in a little exploding-arse hilarity, I decided to make a quick exit. The only problem with this was that I couldn’t walk down the hill. I simply couldn’t safely place the foot of my left leg in a manner that would enable me to take a step. Instead, I hobbled across the face of the hill to where there was no one below me and sat upon said arse and slid myself down. Then I had to limp around until I could find a dunny (of course it was downstairs!) all the while indulging in some severe butt clenching and more than one prayer to the God of clean underwear to preserve me long enough to get there.
I’m happy to report that I made it with a nano-second to spare and that having had its little Griswaldian laugh at my expense, my body didn’t feel inclined to betray me at all after that.
We returned to the Chalet then to set about the drinking part of the festivities (and to watch the resort’s fireworks from a warm spot) and at 10:30 decided it was time indulge in a little pyromania of our own. Having told Bob (a fireman) that I’d managed to locate and purchase the happy little incendiaries, he had raced into town to buy some of his own, doubling our stock and our fun. In all, we fired off about 200 rockets to the great delight of everyone involved. My only disappointment was in not getting to ignite them myself (I couldn’t run away!).
We settled in again beyond that to drink out the remainder of 2009, much of which was accompanied by my renditions of various Rolf Harris Classics. Yes, true to form the Court of King Caractacus marched by in its entirety at about 11:53pm.
Day 4. I sat again and it sucked. But at the end of the day, I was invited to join Bob and Nancy for a hot tub and a couple of drinks (Caroline came in after skiing). After that we decided that we’d go for dinner at the local Scottish pub (of course – and a fabulous meal it was) and along the way I found that I could actually almost stand and walk. So much so, that by the time I got home, I decided that perhaps I might even ski the following day (which was of course the day we were leaving).
I woke early, jumped in the hot tub to loosen up the offending calf and escaped out the door on my own soon after the lift started hoiking people up the hill. Nervous and scared that I was about to do something really really stupid, I clambered aboard and very very cautiously skied back down again. I survived. I spent most of the rest of the morning riding the chair and skiing slowly back down the hill again. It wasn’t exactly how I’d planned my skiing at Kicking Horse and I didn’t make it back up the Gondola, but I did at least manage just a little more skiing whilst my truly amazing wife crammed all our shit back into the car before joining me with the kids for 2 final runs. Then of course it was time to drive.
We travelled to Edmonton and bunked down before the final part of the trip. In an effort to stave off the return just that bit longer, we went to the movies, Thomas and I so see Avatar and the rest to see the Squeakel.
It was only as we drove off that I realized I’d left my gloves in the cinema and only when we’d made it to the very start of the highway that I realized I’d left my book in the hotel. Both were recovered and finally at about 4pm we got out of Edmonton for real (we did lunch at Ikea too of course).
The return drive seemed inexorable, with plenty of traffic, roads in fair condition and just the occasional butt monkey slowing everyone down. By 9pm we were back in the Mac, lamenting the fact that all too soon, the holiday was over.
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