Fraser Mountain - Living the snow life

Chapter Sixteen

I set my alarm for 7am last night, knowing that if there’s one day you want to get up early during the ski season, it’s Opening Day on the mountain. My beloved board is propped in the corner, and I marvel at the level of affection I hold for bit of wood and P-Tex. I would honestly cry like a baby if anything bad happened to her.

Her edges are razor sharp and the base has been perfectly waxed and buffed, ready to take on everything and anything Fraser Mountain wants to throw at us. I’m meeting Stevie at Travis’ house because Travis decided to buy a second-hand car and has offered to drive us up to the DayLodge. Apparently, it’s a rust-heap, but I’m not going to say no to a free ride. The hitching post will be rammed today anyway.

I put on my thermals, a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, baggy waterproof trousers, black jacket and pick up my gloves, helmet, and most importantly, the small piece of plastic that is my ticket to ride for the season - my lift-pass. No point getting to the first chairlift and finding it’s missing. Been there, done that, not fun.

I lace my snowboard boots nice and tight, making sure there are no wrinkles in my socks that can cause sore sports later. I cram my favourite stripey beanie low on my forehead, attaching my helmet to the straps of my daypack. Why do I need a woolly hat and a helmet? Because frankly, I’m vain. Helmet-hair is really never a good look, so I always stuff a hat in my pocket before I ride. Finally ready, I give myself a mental shake, pick up my board and try to make it down the small stairway without tripping over myself. I’m sweating by the time I get to the kitchen.

Jenn, being the angel that she is, has put a package on the counter with my name and a smiley face written on it, which I’m guessing is my usual breakfast treat. The café isn’t open yet and I can’t see Jenn anywhere so I unzip my pack and toss it in, before opening the back door and trudging through the thick and fresh snow on the wooden decking. I can feel the excitement buzzing in my veins as I flick on my iPod and choose a playlist of stand-out tunes from my favourite snowboarding films. This is my ritual. The music pumps me up before I ride and conquers any of those confidence wobbles. I haven’t ridden since the charity gig at the SnowDome and the nervous tension is fizzing up my insides.

‘Here I come, ready or not…’ I mutter under my breath as I heave my board under my arm and start walking to Travis’s house.

By the time we bundle into Travis’s tiny Honda, the excitement of it all has completely overtaken any of my nerves as the car slowly crawls up the winding road that leads to the base of the main ski area. I say slowly, because Travis is coaxing his frankly miraculous piece of Japanese automotive history up the mountain in the dim light, with what amounts to a Fraser traffic jam in front of us. Having looked at this car in the dim light, I didn’t think it would make it round the corner, let alone up a mountain road.

It’s hardly like rush hour on the M1, but it’s definitely busy. Travis manages to find a parking space in the staff area and as we walk from the ticket office I look ahead at what seems like a completely different mountain to the one I saw a few weeks ago. Again, I wonder where all these people come from as I watch the crowds stomping around in ski boots, throwing snowballs, falling over, whooping, laughing and catching up with old friends from last winter.

Most people are wearing the usual neutral colours like black and green, but I spot a few others going for the retro look with fluorescent ski suits and crazy hats. Sam and Joe would fit right in. I pass an older man with a monoboard – a rare sight on a ski hill – wearing pink salopettes with flared bottoms and a rather fetching lime green jacket with purple diamonds scattered all over it. He must have clocked me staring and gives me a big grin and a wink as we walk by. I think his outfit and his board are older than most of the people I’m with.