I'm on my way to the Powder Monashee Mountains to take my Avalanche Ops Level 1 course. Was planning to make it all the way to Vernon, but we didn't leave Whistler until 2:30 this afternoon. So now I'm chilling at the Holiday Inn in Kelowna, drinking some beer, wondering what this course is going to be like.
Lessons learned today:
1. Ski pole baskets are impossible to find in Whistler
2. Trying to find last-minute items, such as a cheap snow thermometer, never works.
3. When driving somewhere you've never been, it's a good idea to check a map before you leave. And also a good idea to check before you take a right at the fork in the road, when you really have no idea if you should go right or left. (For the record, I should have gone left. It would have saved an hour of driving).
I guess I'm also a bit nervous about the course. I'm a bit rusty on my beacon searches. But I've had a lot of touring experience and everyone tells me there's lots of practice time during the course. So cross your fingers for me, and I'll do my best to study hard and learn as much as I can.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
Accidental Sort-of Ski Bum
I didn't set out to be a ski bum. I always did really well in school, was at or near the top of my class. I have two bachelors degrees and my masters in business. I've lived in three Canadian cities and held professional marketing positions in several different industries.
Yet here I am, living in Whistler, doing marketing for a backcountry ski company, part-timing as a ski instructor, and trying to get my own little fledgling marketing business off the ground. And also skiing every chance I can get.
Maybe I don't couch-surf, party every night, and eat Kraft Dinner at least once a day. But I've skied every year since I was four, and after living in BC for the past few years, I can't imagine starting each day without checking the weather, snow report and avalanche advisory.
Everyone says this will be a La Nina winter, with cold temps and lots of fluffy stuff, so I say bring it it on. I am, after all, a sort-of ski bum.
Yet here I am, living in Whistler, doing marketing for a backcountry ski company, part-timing as a ski instructor, and trying to get my own little fledgling marketing business off the ground. And also skiing every chance I can get.
Maybe I don't couch-surf, party every night, and eat Kraft Dinner at least once a day. But I've skied every year since I was four, and after living in BC for the past few years, I can't imagine starting each day without checking the weather, snow report and avalanche advisory.
Everyone says this will be a La Nina winter, with cold temps and lots of fluffy stuff, so I say bring it it on. I am, after all, a sort-of ski bum.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Six Days to Thirty - The Life Unlived
I'm tired. Not because it's late, which it is, at 11:30 p.m. on a Tuesday. But because I'm just worn out.
As a kid, I never wondered about my life as an adult, because I had it all figured out. I used to play The Game of Life with my sisters. Somehow, miraculously (come on, who am I kidding, I'm a master manipulator when I want to be), I always ended up with six kids (which is two kids too many to fit in the standard sedan that the game supplies you with), living in an old farmhouse and working as a doctor. That was my dream life, and I fully expected it to come true.
Now I'm approaching 30. Okay, I'll actually be thirty in six days. And I'm not married and I don't have any children; I'm not a doctor and I don't live in a farmhouse.
My dog ran away today, after a 40-minute hike in the woods, just before I was going to put his leash back on and head down the street to our house. I had a huge to-do list that was only a third of the way completed. But instead of finishing my list (which actually included taking my dog in the car to do errands, followed by a visit to the dog park), I ended up searching for him for almost three hours, hiking through the woods, retracing our steps, wearing myself out. Finally, I got a call from a little girl, who said my dog was at the bottom of the street, hanging around a small park, chewing a blue ball he stole from a little boy. Who she was and how she got my number, I'm not sure. I want to phone her tomorrow, hopefully talk to her parents, see if I can give a gift of thanks.
Living on the other side of the country from where I grew up, from where my family still lives, is difficult. I feel like I've almost found my place, but it's still exhausting. Even though it's been over two years, sometimes it feels like no one knows me and I'm starting from scratch, volunteering, joining groups and clubs, trying to meet people and establish myself.
After finding the dog, I headed home, made a dinner that I didn't eat until hours later (my boyfriend works nights, so I try to cook meals for him), went to band practice, made a quick grocery trip, bought some wine (because after my afternoon, I needed a drink), came home, finished cleaning the bathtub, and finally ate my dinner.
There's folded towels piled on the chair that I keep meaning to list on Craigslist, dry clothes in the dryer, wet clothes in the washer, and I don't care, because I'm tired. I feel like I never get ahead, and there's always two things unfinished for every one thing I cross off the list. No one ever told me that this was what being grown up really meant.
Makes me wonder if I could have really handled a real life version of The Game of Life?
As a kid, I never wondered about my life as an adult, because I had it all figured out. I used to play The Game of Life with my sisters. Somehow, miraculously (come on, who am I kidding, I'm a master manipulator when I want to be), I always ended up with six kids (which is two kids too many to fit in the standard sedan that the game supplies you with), living in an old farmhouse and working as a doctor. That was my dream life, and I fully expected it to come true.
Now I'm approaching 30. Okay, I'll actually be thirty in six days. And I'm not married and I don't have any children; I'm not a doctor and I don't live in a farmhouse.
My dog ran away today, after a 40-minute hike in the woods, just before I was going to put his leash back on and head down the street to our house. I had a huge to-do list that was only a third of the way completed. But instead of finishing my list (which actually included taking my dog in the car to do errands, followed by a visit to the dog park), I ended up searching for him for almost three hours, hiking through the woods, retracing our steps, wearing myself out. Finally, I got a call from a little girl, who said my dog was at the bottom of the street, hanging around a small park, chewing a blue ball he stole from a little boy. Who she was and how she got my number, I'm not sure. I want to phone her tomorrow, hopefully talk to her parents, see if I can give a gift of thanks.
Living on the other side of the country from where I grew up, from where my family still lives, is difficult. I feel like I've almost found my place, but it's still exhausting. Even though it's been over two years, sometimes it feels like no one knows me and I'm starting from scratch, volunteering, joining groups and clubs, trying to meet people and establish myself.
After finding the dog, I headed home, made a dinner that I didn't eat until hours later (my boyfriend works nights, so I try to cook meals for him), went to band practice, made a quick grocery trip, bought some wine (because after my afternoon, I needed a drink), came home, finished cleaning the bathtub, and finally ate my dinner.
There's folded towels piled on the chair that I keep meaning to list on Craigslist, dry clothes in the dryer, wet clothes in the washer, and I don't care, because I'm tired. I feel like I never get ahead, and there's always two things unfinished for every one thing I cross off the list. No one ever told me that this was what being grown up really meant.
Makes me wonder if I could have really handled a real life version of The Game of Life?
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