Saturday, December 8, 2007

I Ski Do

Ski season is upon us in Norway, Girl and I have been drooling in anticipation for weeks. We pray at the church of ski every weekend, religiously, and do not miss one trip to the altar for our weekly offering.

This can sometimes put off friends when during winter they ask of our availability for weekend plans. My response is categoric. We are unavailable until the first weekend of May.

It is said that Norwegians are born with skis on their feet, which explains why child birth without a midwife is unseen here.

Canadians have not quite evolved to being born with skis on their feet, for most of us it is skates, but herein lies a common love of winter activities.

Girl and I have a weekend routine that is both a compulsive and addictive antidote to the work week. Without it, we would surely perish at the hands of demons.

  1. We drive to our place (Girl’s parent’s place) in the mountains Friday after work
  2. We wake up early Saturday morning for first tracks and ski aggressively for an hour with most no one on the hill. 4 runs from ~1000 metres vertical does the job, especially if it is a powder morning
  3. We stop for a scrummy Norwegian breakfast: cheese, bread, cheese, bread, cured meats and pate, and cheese… and huge lattes (and a cheeky Marly light if BB is hung)
  4. We watch skiing on TV for a jot (cross country, biathlon, downhill, ski jumping…)
    We don our cross country kit and head out for 2 to 4 hours in the boreal mountains in either the lower, mid or upper tracks, sometimes combining them. Sometimes we take our head lamps and don’t come back until it is dark (not hard as it gets dark 15:00ish in December when the solar noon altitude is ~7 degrees)
  5. We sip an apr├Ęs ski aperitif (preferably bubbly if Mrs. BB, the champagne monster, has the keys to the cellar!) and watch more skiing on TV
  6. We eat dinner: raclette, fondu, elk, or other various mountain foods (preferably with a fine claret if BB or FiL have the keys to the cellar!)
  7. We talk about the day’s skiing and what we will ski tomorrow. The boys talk about riveting topics like the quality of snow, temperature, waxing (not of the Brazilian ilk), and techy macho bullshit stuff
  8. We go to bed and have passion in the Super-G, slalom, free ride, telemark or off-piste position
  9. We go to sleep dreaming about skiing… powder dreams are best as they are magical… avalanches are a nightmare
  10. We repeat on Sunday

We drive back to Oslo Monday morning, straight to work, and talk to everyone in the office about skiing on the weekend… and wait in great anticipation for Friday to come around.

If we are not in Norway, we make the pilgrimage to the Alps or North America. Though the routine may vary slightly, we are at the the big altar daily, of the 2,000 - 3,500 metre variety. Nothing stiffens one's faith like 6,000 metres of vertical before noon, hallefuckingluiah!

Now if you don’t ski, or even if you do, this may seem painfully tedious! I totally understand this and do not wish to appear a missionary seeking conversion. If I was reading someone’s blog about their obsession for say trainspotting or feltching, I would tune out immediately pal! O
ne man’s hell is another man’s heaven, gender in-specific of course! The church of ski is tolerant.

When Beaverboosh met Girl, we properly courted for 6 months before consummating our relationship, at the beginning of the ski season. I know this is very old fashioned but we really got to know one another, and put a big tick in the ski box!

Thankfully after six months the natural talent for passionate cuddling that we Northern Hemisphere folk biologically posses from enduring long cold winters was unleashed. Thank effin god, my testicles had swollen to the size of a Moose’s!

We both knew, even in those early days, that one day we would look each other in the eyes, and say I ski do!

For a Canadian dude, you cannot get any better than this!



Pomgirl said...

I've never tried skiing, due to a fear of breaking bones, but it sounds like an amazing way to spend a weekend.

OSLO said...

How, after reading a whole, rather long post about skiing, am I left with only one image.... of swollen testicles? Now that is writing talent!

Zhu said...

I just have the breakfast and the fondue and skip the ski part? Seriously, I know I have enough fat in my butt to cushion the falls, but I'm not a ski person... tried it once, felt miserable.

I'm a water person... not frozen water one. Surfing, anytime (although it's not that popular on the Ottawa river, I'm trying). Swimming, even running... but no skiing for me.

I know. It's lame. I can skate though!

beaverboosh said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
beaverboosh said...

Pomgirl - We learn to ski when we are wee and supple, but I still fall off the mountain a couple of times a year(No bones broken to date)! Sounds like you had a great weekend with Frank and Burt!

Oslo - Johanna you have a one track mind. It's all boobs and willies this week!

Zhu - Doesn't matter where or when you pray at the altar, surfing is deeply religious!

Shantanu said...

LOL! Enjoyed reading this rather funny 'ski post'. Unfortunately, snow is something we only get to watch on TV or in the movies here in Pune, India.

Chanced upon your blog today, thanks to Zhu listing it prominently on her 'World Citizen' post. Will be back...

Anonymous said...

That's it. I'm moving to Norway. Any pics next time?

Anonymous said...

That's it. I'm moving out of the flatlands. Any pics for the hill-starved masses?

Jonny said...

Norwegians are born with ski on their feet indeed! I don’t know the statistics for sure, but suspect this is the reason for high numbers of c-sections in Norway. Mom had a c-section when I was born… I believe I had cross country ski. Kids with alpine ski represent nature’s own way in Norway, whilst I understand that Canadians are born with skates, so the number of c-sections should be rather low over there! Logic explains everything!!

Gary said...

Damn, dude, I was starting to worry about you! Glad you're back cuz I'm past due for a good laugh