Downhills From Here

Part 4: In desperate need of skiing instructions

Today was my lucky day. It was the same coach driver who had given me a lift to the hotels yesterday. I smiled and waved at him as I embarked.

"Morning, had your coffee yet?" I greeted him.

The way he perked up seemed to tell me he hadn't.

"Get on board, I'm gonna take you up on your offer from yesterday," he barked out with a half laugh and I gave him a thumbs up and found a seat.

The coach wasn't as full as it had been yesterday evening and the drive to the skiing area was quick. My stomach wasn't filled with dread this time. I was actually looking forward to getting back on the slopes. Once the coach had emptied of travelers the driver, whose name was Charles, and I made our way to the cafe. We shared some funny stories over coffee until he had to go back to work. He thanked me for the coffee, and whenever I missed my coach I was welcome to hitch a ride with him.

After he had gone I finished my coffee and then went to find Bob.

"Hey, girl, didn't expect to see you this early today!" He smiled and pulled down a pair of skiing boots from the shelf behind him.

"I'm surprising myself too," I admitted and dropped my bag on the counter and took the boots.

Once I was dressed in my skiing outfit, boots strapped on, and skis in my hands I didn't feel so sure about this anymore.

"Your muscles will feel better once you've warmed them up, going down the pistes a couple of times," Bob assured me and gave me my cloakroom ticket. 

I nodded and headed out towards the kids' slope. Not many kids were here this early. Actually none at all. I had the slope to myself, apart from some teenage kid who looked just like I felt on skis. I had a suspicious feeling I was looking just like I felt on skis too.

The spotlights had been turned off as the sun rose higher over the mountains, the snow sparkling like a million diamonds and I had almost mastered turning. I felt invigorated. I just needed a slightly longer slope, as I always reached the end by the time I got into a rhythm of turning.

Before I joined the queue of people to use the anchor ski lifts I spoke to the ski lift attendant about which slope was safe for someone who had just conquered the baby slope. She directed me to the next lift over and told me to get off at the first plateau, and I did just that.

I didn't fall off the lift halfway up this time, and I arrived intact, with both skis still on at the first plateau, almost did a celebratory skip, and then promptly stumbled into another skier and we both fell on our butts. It was the same teenager I had seen in the kids' piste.

"Hi, so sorry," I said and helped him up. We brushed off the snow from ourselves and then made our way from the lift area to the piste. Where we both hesitated. With one look at me, the teenager set off, managed a couple of turns before he plowed the rest of the way down. I could see him at the bottom of the slope, waving at me.

"If he can do it, I can do it!" I told myself and set off.

It started quite alright, I plowed a couple of meters, my skis like a v in front of me. Then I decided to try a turn, and it all went downhill from there. I wooshed past the teenager, a high-pitched scream following me down the slope and all the way into the snow pile in front of the cafe. The pile of snow was tall enough to stop people crashing into the windows, but not tall enough to hide people who came schussing down the mountainside.

"Dude, your screaming sounds like you're dying." The teenager deadpanned as I extracted myself from the snow pile.

"I was dying," I explained to him as I brushed off the snow from my skis. I took a calming breath to slow my racing heart. "My whole life was flashing in front of me." I patted my chest above my heart, adrenaline still coursing through my veins.