24 January, 2006 (Tuesday)

A brief update
Here at Big White another week seems to mean another few centimeters of snow. It’s becoming almost routine to look out the window and see the snow heaped up with more of the fluffy white stuff drifting down. The novelty is wearing off though because, while it might mean some fine skiing, it also means slippery footing, having to trudge through knee deep powder and snowbanks everywhere.



Big White news:

• Australia Day: With around 70% of staff from Australian, celebrations for Australia Day will no doubt be off the scale. Already there are rumours that the mountain Senior Vice President has ordered in a case of VB (to tell the truth, not my favourite choice of swill but beggars can’t be choosers as my old dad used to say). Other than that I’m expecting to see quite a few crocadile hunter wannabes in stubbies, thongs and wife-beater singlets (makes you proud to see people in traditional garb) nursing cold cans of brew. For myself, I think I’m working in the main Village centre (my first shift there for a month!) so I’ll have to behave. Like I don’t anyway...
• Silverstar: The free staff shuttle to Silverstar was a success. Two greyhound buses left Big White Central Reservations right on 7:30am and took the two hour drive up to Silverstar Ski Resort.
  The day was clear and the skiing conditions great. Silverstar is definitely more of a skiers mountain with wide groomed runs that are steep but lack the rolling quality of Big White. They have about 30cm less snow (which is strangely quite noticeable) compared to here, with closely planted pines that preclude glade skiing.
  Most of the crew that went over were snowboarders and they complained about the steep terrain, lack of jumps and style of mountain. For myself, I quite enjoyed the change in scenery – Silverstar as a mountain felt entirely different to Big White, not just because the snow was a lot more packed down.
  We returned (exhausted) just past 6pm, a long day. I definitely wouldn’t mind visiting again sometime.
• Visitors in 311: Jae has two friends visiting the mountain right now – Terry, with his girlfriend Rita, and Merv, who has just moved in with us for the week. Both guys are (allegedly) snowboarders, although I haven’t had the opportunity to see either in action as yet. I think Terry is due to leave in the next few days, but there is still hope for Merv. So with both Jae and Josh having nights off we’ve reached near capacity in our little apartment. We haven’t quite reached the stage where we are sharing beds... yet. But there’s still hope.

21 January, 2006 (Saturday)
Slept in again. Ever since I’ve gotten here I’ve been able to just pass straight out. Not sure if that’s a symptom of lower stress levels or merely the mountain air working it’s magic.

A relatively lazy morning (once I managed to lever myself up), spent with Jae and Josh watching Inked, a reality television show about a Vegas tattoo parlour. It’s an entertaining show, with well developed characters full of angst and deep seated personal issues, juggling their personal lives and their business. In fact, most of the program isn’t so much about tattooing or even the customers as it is about the lives of the owners and their employees. (IS that where drama comes from - characters and the audience developing some level of identification and empathy? Deep).

Aside on tattoos: Sitting in front of the television watching Inked I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to get a tattoo. Not just whether or not it would hurt (and apparently it does...) but what I’d get and where I’d put it and whether I'd be able to put up with it.

The whole body art scene in the past few decades seems to have moved on from being a means of identification for military personnel or organized crime, to an alternative method of self expression, to a mainstream fashion accessory that adds that bit of faux edge / attitude. But I guess it isn't just the scene that's changed, but also the style. These days there seems to be a pretty big variety in tattoos - from comic pictures to masterfully shaded art. You can get words and hieroglyphs and caricatures and real-life drawing. It’s no longer just the skull and crossbones or heart with ‘mom’, these days it can be pretty much anything that catches your fancy.

What do I mean about tattoos becoming mainstream? Well, at any Sydney beach you can expect to see gals with tribal designs on their lower backs and guys with black and white squiggles on their arms. It has become a going joke that what trendy Chinese characters say and what they were sold as saying are often two entirely different things – ‘chicken soup’ anybody? Here on mountain there seems a higher than normal proportion of tattooed youths. I’m not sure if it’s a reflection of snow culture or the type of person who chooses to live on mountain.


What’s the attraction? Well, I can understand wanting to express some idea or remind yourself of a particular point in time, but locking it in forever... that I’m trying to work out.
I don’t know. . . a lot of tattooing today just screams to me of wholesale monoculture group think: just more misguided individuals craving a sense of belonging and identification, expressed through a common symbol, but lacking any real understanding or theme. Perhaps I’m expecting too much meaning and forethought, but doing something just because it is currently ‘cool’ gets dated pretty quickly. If you’re justification is individual expression, then choosing a design that will decorate your body for the rest of your natural life (for the bargain prices of $40, unless you manage to sandpaper it off before then) that, being a standard design, also happens to decorate another few hundred people, is just a bit beyond me. Maybe it’s that old fashioned inner conservative expressing itself, but I just don’t get it. I don’t think that getting a ‘tatt’ will make me any tougher and right now I can’t think of a design that I’d want to keep for more than 6 months. Am I just fickle?

PS – Leigh-burger, know a chickie who had a snowflake designed for her and inked onto her lower back this week. She loves it, but keeps on complaining about how much it still hurts (apparently it took all of four minutes to put on). I think she’s just fishing for sympathy. Not to be nasty, but it looks a bit too much like a home job.

One of our neighbours has a Chinese dragon curving down his right arm. He’s thinking about getting a phoenix on the left. He had the dragon done back home, in the Isle of Man, by a professional artist. You can see the difference in the depth and shading.
Zia, our second in charge in tickets showed me one of her tattoos today. Apparently her next addition is going to be a tribal inspired butterfly. I wonder how that will look?

Work was at Happy Valley (again) from 1:00pm until 9:00pm. When I got into the main office Zia informed me that I was going to be taught how to sharpen skates during the shift. The first few hours went relatively fast. Carla was back (with a fractured back – courtesy of a snowboarding mishap back in Victoria Island where she’d gone to visit her parents), and spent a good hour showing me pictures of her home and niece (and complaining about how this would put her out of action, romantically).

The evening passed relatively quickly. Jeff (from Retail – boot fitting) turned up to teach me the basics of sharpening skates. Apparently he used to work at Sportchek (the local sports store, like Rebel back home) and did a lot of it there with an automated machine. Unfortunately the one that we have in the ticket office is manual. After half an hour I had a fair idea of what to be looking for – even grade, sharp sides tested by running the back of my finger nail along the edges, blunted front and back, removal of any burrs on the edges. I spent the rest of the evening going through as many pairs of skates as possible. I got through the rack (5 rows of 6 pairs either side = approximately 50 skates) and a goodly portion of the boxed skates.

Outside the skating rink wasn’t as busy as expected, although there was a marriage reception in full swing. The bride was married in traditional white but wearing skates on the ice. Carla popped out to get photos of the marriage party. Apparently it was a nice ceremony. I’m not sure if I’d be able to stomach a white wedding like that. Not last because of the risk of having the bride slip and end up on her face. The thought spending my marriage night watching my bride getting her nose re-set just doesn’t appeal to me... I guess I’m just an old fashioned romantic.

I popped into Sam’s again (with another 30 minute wait). Strangely Dave begged out as being too tired (now pigs will fly!). As soon as I entered I saw Tanya and Emma (her flatmate). We had a bit of a chat, then I was off circulating to greet some other friendly faces. By midnight I’d had enough, I said my final goodbyes to Kath, Ryan and Mel and got out of there.


22 January, 2006 (Sunday)
I was persuaded to ski early, following promises made to multiple parties the night before. The day started overcast, but that soon burnt off to a clear still day, perfect for skiing.

I met up with Retail Sarah around 10am and we made our way down from the Ridge to Gem Lake. We skied down a variety of runs, starting with a freshly groomed Powder Keg, through Corkscrew and (facing the scene of my painful stack) down Blackout. The runs were steep and often deeply tracked. We ventured into the new Gem Lake ski area that was only cut last season, now re-badged Black runs (Caution: Not recommended for skiing due to uneven snow cover). Blue Moon was bumpy, with unpacked powder bumps and moguls (large bumps in the snow, often accentuated by previous skiers hitting the same path, cutting hard trails into otherwise soft snow). I worked on absorbing the impact and rolling with the hill, which wasn’t so bad.

Stopping for a midday break at the Westridge Warming Hut (next to the Gem Lake lift), we came across Josh and Jae’s friends – Terry and Merv. They were about ready to head in, but Josh was eager to see some more of the mountain. After wolfing down a hot coffee and sugared bun (thanks Jess!) we got back out. Up Gem lift, then down Blue Sapphire – a wide beautifully groomed run with steep but even slopes. From there it was up Falcon and down Grizzly. By this time visibility was starting to suffer and my thighs were burning cutting down the steeper slopes. I’d had a decent day out but it was time to head in before I collapsed.

The evening was spent at a surprise birthday celebration for Grace, one of the retail gals from Melbourne. A group of 20 of us hid in giggling near silence in her apartment (shared with Mick from rentals and Andrew who originally interviewed me for Big White in Sydney – small world), which had been decked out in balloons and streamers.

Grace walked in with Marissa (who organized the gathering) after a few celebratory birthday drinks with the comment of “it smells in here!”. This was greeted with a rowdy “Happy Birthday”, followed by pictures and cake. The group dined at the Copper Kettle, heading to Sam’s afterwards. (I popped out briefly to see if Jae was, as he’d promised, at the skating rink. No luck. He wasn’t answering his phone either. I guess he was waylaid.) The party slowly dissipated after 9pm, with almost everybody gone by 11ish. Early starts in the morning? Well, it was a Sunday night!


23 January, 2006 (Monday)
An early morning, rising at 6:30am for my day trip to Silverstar (our sister mountain). The buses were ready to go at 7:30, full of bleary eyed snow bunnies. Silverstar is north of Big White, just a short hop from the town of Vernon. It was a 2 hour bus ride there, which most of us spent passed out trying to catch up on sleep.

First Impressions
My first impressions of Silverstar were a half-empty car park with snow banked a half-meter to the side, hardly what you’d classify as picturesque. Once in the main village however it was a different story. All the storefronts were brightly painted, with a variety of retail and resort services offices scatter along the central strip. What struck me most was how compact the village seemed to be – with pretty much all the shops and eateries located within a 50 metre area.

Despite having acquired a trail map I wasn’t really sure where to start off. My usual skiing buddies were back at Big White and, while I knew more than a few of the other Big White-ans who were there for the day, most were boarders and there with their pals. In the end I decided I’d head my own way and if I found others, then so be it.

Riding the Comet
My first foray was down one of the main access ways to the Comet Express, a new 6-seater chairlift that was apparently once upon a time destined for Big White. As lifts go it was comfortable (love the padded seats, it’s just the walls I’m wary of) and moved at a decent clip, giving access to the front and back slopes of the mountain.

I skied most of the blue rated runs on the front face of the mountain in my first few hours (Milky Way, Exhibition, Whiskeyjack, Middle Dipper, FIS, Constellation). They tended to be long and steep but well groomed, with tightly packed powder that had me speeding through and my thighs burning midway down. I tried to work on making my turns more parallel and not riding too much on my heels. I think it’s past time for a real ski lesson.

Picnic in Silverwoods
From there I found my way into the Silverwoods area, only opened this last season. Perhaps modeled after Big White’s Black Forest area, it offered a variety of treed runs, which tended to be at a consistent slope, quite bumpy with thickly treed sides which precluded jumping between runs. After four rides up the Silverwoods quad I’d had my fill and went back up to explore the other front face of the mountain before lunch.

Silver Johns Pub
By 12:30 my legs were caned and I decided it was time for a break. I headed back to the main Village, took a few pictures and ended up having a midday pint with Craig from rentals (an Australian who has previously done a season at Perisher). Around 1pm the ticket gals (Precious and Sarah) walked into the pub with some of their boarding friends (Adana, Renae and Chloe) who I joined for lunch.

The gals had either soup and sandwiches or nachos. For my $10 I ended up ordering an Irish Whiskey Stew, which arrived in a bowl made of bread. The stew was great – the meat tender and the gravy thick. (That’s one of the things I’ve been missing about home – being able to enjoy a good stew, especially when it is cold.) Energised, I made my way back out into the cooling afternoon.

An Afternoon in Powder
The rest of my day I spent making my way around to the back of the mountain. To get there I found my way back to the Comet Express and took their longest run (at 8km), El Dorado, around to their Powder Gulch chair. El Dorado is mostly a long, almost flat, cat trail that winds its way around. Towards the end however it becomes a steeply iced ramp which you can really fly down. At first I made some effort to cut my edges in to bleed off speed, but by the middle I decided that it looked flat enough to ride out. I call it helmet courage.

The Powder Gulch area of Silverstar is mainly made up with advanced and expert ski runs; a disproportionate number of blacks and double blacks. The runs seem to either sit above the trees on narrow cause ways, or are cut below with exposed tree roots still sticking out the sides. They are all insanely steep, badly bumped, or both. Below the lift line they also have a little restaurant. It sits by itself at the center of the run. I can’t imagine it gets too busy except on weekends.

Chatting to a local on the lift up, he recommended I get my teeth wet on one of the few blue runs before I threw myself at any of the blacks. With the sky darkening, I wasn’t sure how much I could fit in. In the end I took a sedate green called Aunt Gladys around, peering at nasty looking double blacks with names like Chute 5, before settling on a wide blue called Gypsy Queen.

Midway through I was struggling to hold it together, my recently awakened thighs screaming as I crisscrossed my way down the steeply graded sides of the mountain. While the run was wide, it just ran all the way down, without any parts that leveled decently. I ended up taking the last 100 metres at a pace, gunning it without even bothering with turns.

The wind had started to bite by this time, so I thought it was time to call it a day. I made my way to the lift and then the t-bar, heading off home. Skating back along the Village access I had second thoughts, and decided to give the front face one last go, so I jumped onto Whiskeyjack and onto the Comet for my final hurrah at Silverstar.

After a bit of traversing across, I settled on Show-Off, a black run that drops down the slope facing the main Village. It has the odd tree but is relatively clear. Of course, on my way down I managed to stack it just at the tree and got stuck in the branches. In order to extricate myself I ended up having to remove my right ski.

My impressions of Silverstar?
My impressions: The staff at Silverstar appear to be organized differently and seem to be spread more sparsely (but then we went on a Monday, which isn’t really their busiest day). They have people whose sole job seems to be scanning tickets. Their lifties are less obvious and seem to have less snow to shovel. The uniforms look basically the same though.

The mountain is wider and steeper, with less rollers and jumps off the side of runs. The trees are also a lot more closely spaced. Apparently this is a result of some kind of wilderness protection which precludes any thinning of trees. As a result they don’t have ski-able glades. I’m becoming quite fond of my ski-able glade areas. Its fun making new tracks in deep powder, even if I end up stuck hip-deep half the time.

The snow is more hard-packed and perhaps better groomed as a result. It isn’t as deep as Big White, I guess they just haven’t had as regular snowfalls as us lately. The runs tend to be longer and they have a lot more advanced terrain.

Silverstar Village is more compact, with the retail stores more varied and less hidden away. It probably doesn’t have as many pubs and restaurants, but everything is closer together. No need for a Gondola or half-hour round shuttle. The brightly coloured facades add to the feeling of newness, which is reinforced by the chair lifts and general grooming of the resort. Neat trees. New lifts. New equipment. Modern resort. Still wooden frontages, but they’re brightly coloured and fresh. Very cute.

I think I’d like to visit Silverstar again this season, if only to give some of those blacks and double blacks a proper go. It is a change from our mountain (yes, I’ve started referring to it with some sense of ownership), and gives a different kind of riding experience. I wouldn’t mind exploring the nooks and crannies there, but I think I’m due a night out in Kelowna before that happens. Fingers crossed, eh? (...and before you get any ideas, that ‘eh’ was completely voluntary and premeditated).


The eternal carrots
The baby carrots are still fine. I just checked and they’re sitting in the freezer box in all their orange carrot goodness. They live quietly in their big plastic bag (which provides zip-locked freshness) free from grief or trouble.

The baby carrots arrived in the first week of my arrival following our beginning of season hall party, a memento from our landlords, the Kirby’s. Since then they’ve sat there preserved in the icy depths of our refridgerator, their number only slightly reduced by pasta sauces and salads.

Now, many people would scoff at the thought of a 1kg zip-locked bag of baby carrots as a housewarming gift. (Nevermind that they’re pre-peeled and of a perfectly snackable size.) Yet, after 2 months those baby carrots are going strong. They haven’t gone brown, mutant or freaky. They still taste relatively fresh. No strange growths. No funny colours. They’re almost as I first remember them.

Actually, I've been thinking (always a dangerous proposition at the best of times) and I've come to the (shaky) conclusion that they’re actually eternal carrots. A special stock that never dies. Is the secret the vacuum sealed ziplock bag or is it just one of those unexplainable phenomena like belly button lint and the fashion appeal of ugg boots? Right now those baby carrots are the magic in my life. One of life’s deep mysteries that I’m trying to come to terms with and just accept. But I'm not just the accepting type so it's a struggle.

Missing Home
Last week one of my close friends back in Sydney asked me what I miss most about home. It stopped me for a few minutes because I don't think I've been seriously homesick (knock on wood) - there's always too much stimulus. But once I'd digested the question and given it a bit of thought, I started to consider differences and similarities in places, as well as the little things which have taken on special significance and comfort since I came all the way over here. I could spiel off the usual list of family and friends, home cooking and the sun. It would be true too. But there's more than that.

What do I miss most? I honestly think priorities differ from day to day. I definitely miss the knowledge that friends and family are within shouting distance. There's a certain security in that. I miss those regular get togethers with the gang - being able to hang out, relax, enjoy the injokes and venting sessions. Not to say that I don't have some of that here, but once you've got 7+ years of history with people (and yes, it's been that long and just thinking about it makes me feel old) then some reactions become natural and some things no longer have to be said. I miss navel gazing conversation and reflection, finding that wavelength where, over a good coffee, you can just meander through your current reality and choices and issues. I miss having a certain reputation and not having to project quite so much.

I don't mind mixing it up at the pub now and then, but I don't like the feeling of sameness that starts to set in after a while. The same people in the same place with the same vibe. It's some times a bit monotyped here. Like the mountain attracts a certain kind of youth and they're all cloned from the same template. It can be a little two-dimensional. Conversations superficially rotate around the same questions and the same topics. No wonder some of these kids drink so much! Unfortunately I can't even do the wise little man meditating on the hill thing here, it's just too cold! (So to answer the question of all you punters out there, no I haven't really gained any weight. Even with the extra helpings of lard!)

Then there are little things, like missing food - less sugared bread, less processed goods, more fresh fruit and vege. The chocolate isn't as creamy and the cream is more sweet. The milk is rated by percentage and the cheese is orange!

But all of that said, I like the fresh air here and the snow. The skiing is great and I'm enjoying meeting new people and hearing different stories. I like the idea of travelling and seeing new things, new experiences in new places (well, new places for me). I enjoy the challenge of adapting and finding my way and finding how I fit into a new place. It's a challenge and I'm working my way in and out of comfort zones... and somehow that's all good for me.

So, yes - I miss bits of home, but that doesn't stop me from enjoying where I am now. I guess when that novelty starts to fray I'll be running for home, but right now I think I'm looking forward to what happens next.


A Rant On... Parents
In my current role as a ticket facilitations operative I have had an increase in the parental interactions (both in duration and volume) that I have had to undergo. Which considering, really isn’t so strange. Back at home I only ever underwent the parental interview infrequently, the gals I was seeing tending to have passed that requirement of immediate parental approval. I’ve never been met by a shotgun (been seeing the wrong gals?), although I came close to the meat cleaver once or twice.

Now I’m on the other side of the counter, serving parents and their brood. Some days it’s not so bad, I can fall into inane banter and even drop some good comments now and then. Really lips smackers. But often it is just painful. You wonder how these people could breed, how they could do such a thing to the gene pool!

Parents and kids? Echoes back to my final year (good ol' 98):
"And all the stupid people are breeding; Cretins cloning and feedings; And I don't even own a TV..." (thank you Harvey Danger)

Not to get scientific, but lately I can’t help but think that Darwin's theory of natural selection (or whatever it was that he was nattering about in "Origin of Species"... to tell the truth even the pictures got a bit boring after a while) is today defunct. It's total hogwash. Somehow we’ve got on top of the food chain and then decided to just change the rules. (I read once upon a time that the laws of physics aren’t necessarily stable but can change at any time. They aren’t actually immutable but just as changeable as anything else in our environment. Not that I totally understand the theory behind it, but to me that’s some pretty freaky stuff. Worth losing sleep over? Well, explains those dreams where I’m just falling and falling and... Anyway I was saying...)

Today's society molly-coddles the population with warnings and legal protections and threats to sue. We perpetuate the existence of people without survival instinct, intelligence or tact. Heck if you want examples just look at daytime TV (we get a lot of Jerry Springer over here)! So of course when you go to a resort setting with lots of families (inherited wealth of just an extreme case of Murphy's law?) you can expect to be greeted by a manangerie of these genetic misfits.

How do I deal with it personally? I think not so nice thoughts, smile a lot, pretend to make cow eyes at the moustached mothers, restrain myself from slapping their spawn and make sure I charge them full price. Hell, upsell if possible. In fact, I'm starting to see how the North American sales mentality got started. Sad but true. It’s not that this place is getting to me, I just consider this part of my life learning. I can now return home an embittered but wiser man.


8 Weeks Into Eternity
So I'm almost through my second month abroad, although most of that time seems to have been spent sitting in that infernal skating rink smiling at peroxide mothers from Australia and their drooling cross-eyed brood... all for $8/hr. But I've only got another 3 months of this to look forward to (or is that endure?) before I travel more broadly.

What have I got to look forward to this year? Right now I'm looking forward to seeing more of Western Canada – perhaps spend a week in Vancouver then visit Victoria (south of Van) and Tofino (surf and views, I guess the Byron Bay of BC [British Columbia]). From there I will hopefully have the cash to travel over the border to Seattle and then down to San Francisco. Nick has mentioned Vegas as a possibility (show girls and neon signs, but I draw the line at having a shotgun wedding!) before finding my way over to Toronto.

I’m thinking that I’d like to experience some of the ‘real’ Canada. Living on a resort is kind of artificial, especially when you’re surrounded by young Aussies who are here to play in the snow and drink copious amounts of alcohol. So the idea of settling somewhere and working for 6 months is quite attractive.

But what will I be working at? I’ve been thinking that perhaps I'll become a professional muse... or maybe I could start a career in door-to-door vacuum sales… I wonder if there’s much demand for chimney sweeps? I'm open to sugestions. After that... we'll see what happens. Perhaps a visit to London might be in order - I hear it's a nice place to visit... for a while. That’s if I could come to terms with the weather.