We didn't go anywhere; we didna do nuffin'

Jan. 9th, 2021 driving

When I opened my bleary eyes at 6:45 this morning I saw Phoebe kneeling over a backpack, tucking in the last few items by lamplight, and I felt a reluctant twinge of excitement. It takes me a while to get out of mother mode, but no one can be detached or melancholy while food is going into coolers and snowboard boots are being fitted into the puzzle that is the back of the van.

We headed out shortly after 9:00 with 12 people, 2 vehicles, 8 snowboards, and all the equipment, clothes, games, and food that one could possibly need for an eight-day pleasure trip.

Jan. 10th, 2021 driving We are sweeping down among the foothills and seeing superbly set mountain ranges, reposing tremulously in their gauze of clouds and purple distance. It seems fitting that I am simultaneously absorbed in Jim & Betty's yearnings and restings for and in the Lord's will (I am currently reading Devotedly).

When I signed up for this journey I did not foresee all the valleys and mountaintops that would be involved before any sort of buckling down (or up!) could occur. I am barreling at top speed toward what to the eye looks like an insurmountable obstacle, and beyond which I have an idea some pleasure is waiting. I trust I shall get through okay, with some ups and downs, but right now it is impossible even to tell how far down the road the barriers are. Yet at every turn one can see the different sides to the reasons our hope and clear direction is delayed, and has to marvel at the ethereal beauty and grandeur of the Glory of the Lord, displayed uninhibited over the craggy ridges of cold stronghold - not haunts of the enemy, for He owns all types of landscape, but a place in which we cannot see beyond the next few moments of our path. In a place like where we are headed God has more opportunities to reveal to us His strength and loveliness than where all is flat and predictable. There is something so epic about the part of the journey I am in, where all the routes for all the travelers have to be threaded through the same narrow openings in the rock, and one is hedged in on all sides by towering impossibility, while following patiently the carefully traced path of possibility laid out for us by those who have come this way before - and the signs by the road reassure us that our destination is yet ahead; and so we press on. That was fun! The hills are alive with metaphor.

Jan. 11th, 2021 writing in bed In my soul there is an overflow of grand stillness. That sense of being all alone halfway down the side of a mountain, with the great, solid shoulders of the mountains all around looking on in silence while you stop and let the absence of all sound fill you with peace - that lasts in your soul a long time.

Jan. 15th, 2021 writing in bed Yesterday and today were very fun and successful days on the hill. I spent more than a few runs in company with the people that belong to me - invigorating after so many hours of solitude. The best thing that we did was take our lunches to the summit and eat them up there, sitting cozily together in a snowbank, overlooking the "panoramic" peaks and talking in maskless comfort.

Jan. 17th, 2021 driving Ah! Skiing! Most of all I liked the Mountain - Panorama Mountain - and the little cluster of restaurants, stores, and villas at its base. I liked the big lodge with music playing softly and tables where one could stow one's gear and food. I liked the big open area of snow at the bottom - where three major runs, two bunny hills, a moving carpet, two chair lifts, and the main entrance to the lodge all converged. There were rows and rows of skis and poles and snowboards lined up on racks, and when, in the middle of the afternoon, the racks stood mostly empty, you knew that most everyone was somewhere high on the hill and you were one of the only ones at the bottom of the Mile 1 chair lift. In order to get to the top of the hill one had to take Mile 1, then tack carefully down to Champagne Express, which was delightfully fast and high, and then take the upper part of the Canadian Way to the Summit Chair, where the Lifty was always eager to help, not having much else to do. The chair climbed steeply to the summit, and there was a small flat area and a little lodge up there. On all sides, at the tops of the Black Diamond runs, boarders sat to fasten their bindings, and there was a row of skis leaning against the outside of the lodge - for the Liftys to get down at the end of the day. I mostly took the same run down - Get Me Down, Canadian Way (which took me past the Summit Chair again), Sunbowl Trail, and Village Way. This took me winding through the forest on switchbacks, crossing the steeper runs at right angles and always at a gentle slope. I would rarely see another person the whole way down, and when I got close to the bottom I would come suddenly upon the Toby Chair, its empty seats swinging through the trees overhead. Then I would go down the lower slope of Eagle Glide, cross a bridge over a roadway, and come to the bottom of the Toby Chair, where the Lifty, sitting, lonely, on a rail, would look up, surprised to see a skier, and hurry to hold the seat for me. It was a nice little lift, two-person and unassuming. At the top the Lifty had music playing, and she always said "hi!" cheerfully. From there it was a short run to Mile 1 again, busy and loud and bustling with people. But I was so afraid that I would not have time to get to the Summit Chair before it closed that I did not stop to eat something or find someone I knew but rode right back up again.

More pictures on Avril's Blog.