I love my job but ... yesterday I had a moment of ...discomfort.
It was the last run of the night, the sweep, when patrollers ski down the hill yelling to make sure people know the mountain is closed and cleaning up the runs that are groomed in the night. It was also snowing hard with wind gusts reaching 60km/hr +, which you can imagine would increase when funneled up natural features on the mountain.
I was in one of these said wind tunnels having much difficulty rolling up a 4 ft x 30 ft orange plastic fencing that apparently makes a good kite in high winds, then again apparently so do I. Just pulling the bamboo out of the snow without being tangled in fencing was a feat unto it self, but as I rolled, the frozen slippery bamboo poles would slide right out of the fencing. The first couple of times this happened I fought the wind (winning some, losing more) to slowly weave the bamboo back into the fence. After a while of this I decided it was futile and I would just buy the morning crew a beer if they complained. As a note of interest, screaming in the wind on an empty hill is fun and relieves you of frustration but ineffective if you were actually trying to be heard.
By the time I was done that small mission, I took stock and realized one of my poles was missing. So now I'm kicking snow up hoping that my boot or other pole would catch my missing pole. The combination of powder, dirt and ice underneath and wind made for unstable standing conditions and several falls occurred. When my co-worker called me on the radio to make sure I was alright, I was no closer to finding my pole and was shamefully forced to admit to her, and anyone with a radio who was bored and listening, that I had lost my pole on a green run. Because they needed to close the chair lift, I was left searching and would have to travel up the hill to the patrol room with the lift maintenance guy on the skidoo. Ironically, and satisfyingly, I found my pole as the patrollers passed overtop me in the chair.
The skidoo ride was nothing short of an adrenaline rush that I didn't necessarily need. Mildly deathly scared of the speed, worried of losing my skis and poles off the back, not to mention my stomach, I was holding on with a death grip to the only accessible hold I could find and, since he was standing up, tried to refrain from smashing my face into his ass after we got air. 'Holy fuck' would've been the short version of that story.
Ok, I admit the skidoo ride was sort of fun. And I guess storms and snow make for good skiing later.
Alright I love my job again.
