What a rush!The alarm went off at 5:30 a.m on Saturday, and we simply threw the bags in the trunk and took off. The air was bitingly frigid as we got into the car, but we pushed the thought aside for the drive. I would be lying if I said it was a peaceful journey. There was no traffic, and the scenery was beautiful, but I was so nervous that I made my stomach hurt. A sense of foreboding had taken up residence in my gut. The closer we got, the higher the hills that dotted the horizon. And by the time we pulled up, I had convinced myself we were about to ski Everest.
Well, it wasn't Everest, but the rooky Ottawa girl was awed, just the same. From start to finish Tremblant was a novelty. First, the place was run like a well-lubed machine. The flow was fantastic. Even the longest lineups at the lifts were relatively quick to get through. Second, the scale. . . BIG! The main lift up to the top was called a "gondola": An enclosed capsule with two bench seats that could accommodate up to 8 people. I came to deeply appreciate this piece of ingenuity when the cold really set it. As for the slopes themselves, they seemed never-ending. Had you strung four Edelweiss runs one behind the other, they would still not have equalled the length of a Tremblant run. They took fifteen minutes to get down. I believe we only managed 8 runs over the five hours we were skiing.
The weather, unfortunately, was prohibitively coooooooooold! We did happen to go on a ridiculously cold day, but the wind that hit the top of the mountain must make even mild days chilly. We made the mistake of trying some of the runs on the North side of the mountain and had to endure a wind blasted ride up the hill on an exposed chair lift. But that's not all. I haven't mentioned the fog yet. At one point, one side of the hill was completely coverd in a dense fog that reduced visibility to perhaps five feet. We avoided those runs altogether, but it was mesmerizing to watch skiers disappear into the sunlit fog one after the other.
The scenery. . . I have been to BC, so I can't say that these were most majestic views I had every beheld, but they were breathtaking nonetheless. Obvious beauty was found in the hills themselves. Once you reach the top, you have a panoramic view of alpine hills spread a far as the eye can see. A less obvious source of beauty was the snow encrusted trees lining the slopes. The hill is riddled with snow-making machines. Much of the snow misses it's mark, coating the evergreens with a thick layer of white. Certain chairlifts swept us passed stands of heavy white pines that looked like they had been transplanted from a winter faery tale.
Despite the initial intimidation, Aidan and I held our own fairly well. Mind you, we weren't taking many risks. We did not stray from the intermediate runs at all. The few encounters we did have with a black diamond portion of trail left us on our behinds. I have no idea how people tackle powder moguls, but it is not a skill I have yet aquired. I was very impressed by my husband's skiing abilities. I trailed behind him for the most part and watched him execute tight, perfectly parallel turns. Following along, I imitated him, and actually fine-tuned my technique just by observation. I had eight fifteen minute self-instructed ski lessons, and reached the bottom a better skiier each time.We set out for a dose of exhilaration, and found it. Now we are back to the grind with sick kids and work to do. But these things are our life. The mountains and small thrills in between are just a bonus.
