I tried skiing a couple of times back in the seventh grade, which turned out to be more of a series of dramatic crashes into nearby snow fences.

I didn’t go near a pair of skis for more than ten years after that, and only then was it to make a sad attempt at the safer, and less angled, cross-country skiing. I declared my inability for all things skis and happily made myself cozy inside the lovely lodges of the world.

Imagine my initial horror, at the age of 26, when I was asked if I wanted to go skiing on an upcoming trip to Jasper.

I considered my options; I could spend the day with a stubbourn pout, or I could just suck it up and get in on the action. In the end, there’s very little I won’t try, so I accepted a day on the slopes at Marmot Basin.

Ski School

I pictured a day surrounded by six-year-olds on flat terrain and a great deal of time spent crashing to the ground, and mentally prepared myself for snowy defeat.

Turns out, I was dead wrong.

The warm up training took place on a shallow hill next to the lodge. I was given plenty of instruction and made my first run unscathed. Phew.

Runs after that became easier, and I started to feel comfortable on my newly extended footwear. I learned how to stop quickly, turns left and right, and how to properly bend my knees and lean forward at just the right angle. It was so much easier than I remembered.

The coolest part was the little moving sidewalk that took me back up to the top. As someone essentially new to skiing, I had never seen this before. I felt like I was on the assembly line of pro-skiers in the making.

With only four or five practise runs under my belt, my instructor told me I was ready for the big hill and we set off and up the chair lift.

What is happening? Why aren’t I falling? Oh my God, I can ski?

Surprise and shock overtook me, after all these years of thinking that I couldn’t ski–I couldn’t believe that I was actually doing it. And well, I might add.

I was so happy with the fact that I didn’t tumble off the chair lift, that it took me a moment before I realized that I was finally skiing.

All it took was the idea of letting go of being afraid; I didn’t care if I crashed and I wanted to go faster and faster. I took off down the mountain, drawing wide criss-crosses across the slope, while admiring the mountain landscape in front of me.

I didn’t fall once the whole day (aside from one ridiculous incident in front of the chair lift, haha) and got going pretty quickly by the end.

I became mildly obsessed over the course of the day and I can now see why people get so addicted to this sport.

Skiing with Pete & Dalene from hecktictravels.com

In the end, I’m probably not going to take up skiing for sport any time soon, but I will most definitely say yes any time an opportunity arises from this point forward, and will look forward to the next one.

Thanks for making a skier out of me, Marmot Basin.

This trip was made possible by Jasper Tourism.
All thoughts and opinions are my own.

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