Terror on the Green Run

I tried a new snowy trail this week--the Wagon Trail run in Manning. Randy had told me stories about how people learning to ski were up on the regular runs by the end of the first day, while I had spent four days on the bunny hill. So, after a couple of bunny hops, we shuffled over to the blue chair. The orange chair wasn't running due to high winds, so the blue chair was busy for a weekday. I had picked Friday to go because I thought it would be the least busy day of the long weekend, and it probably was. Still, there was a lineup.

When it was our turn, Randy told the ski lift operators that it was my first time. They slowed the lift and I heard a woman grumble behind me. I thought I heard the lift operator tell me to ski up to the line, but what he actually said was "when you go, ski up to the line." Too late. The ski operators waved their hands and shouted "don't go." I skied off to the left, hoping I was out of the way of the chair. They stopped the lift and we got on the chair.
The woman behind me grumbled again. We were up and the view was magical. I twisted around, taking pictures, and my water bottle fell out of my pocket. The woman behind started yelling at us about a $5,000 fine. Clearly, Randy would have to go and get the water bottle. Randy told me to keep my ski tips up as we approached the top of the hill. "Stand up," he said, and I hesitated. Then I stood up and dropped about a foot to the ground, racing off and falling, hitting my head on the packed snow beside the lift. Eventually, they stopped the chair again. Pure rage flooded through me as Randy said "I told you to stand up." I was surrounded by ski operators who seemed concerned. I noticed the grumbling woman did not stop to see if I was okay. Now I know why there's information on the ski park website about recommended helmets. Falling repeatedly on the bunny hill made me wonder why anyone would need a helmet. I fall in the snow. Big deal, right?
I took off my skis and told Randy to go and get the water bottle (and his sunglasses, which had also fallen) while I calmed down. I had time to watch the crazy skiers head toward what looked like oblivion,while Randy flew down an unintended black diamond run. Eventually the ski patrol came over and asked me if I was all right because I had been standing there for a while. I told him I had hit my head and asked if he had the training to check for concussion. He checked me and told me I was fine, and asked if I was all right to ski. I was feeling out of my depth and a bit nauseated, but put the latter down to being shaken up by falling. When Randy came back, we started off for the easiest run.

Right away it was too steep for me. The run was narrow to my eyes. It looked like I was going to fall over a cliff and into the trees. Some guys near us were joking about how old one of their party was. "He's going to be 40 and hasn't been up for a while," one said, pointing to another. Randy told them it was my first time ever. I am substantially older than 40. The guys told me I was going to be fine. "You got this," they said. Not so much. By the time I got around the first corner I fell on my face in the snow and cried like a baby for 10 minutes. My breathing came hard and fast. Then a little girl, about five or six years old, came around the corner and fell on her face in the snow and cried. "I hear you sister!"
Randy told me it was no steeper than the hardest part of the bunny hill, but I did not believe him. What skills and confidence I had were gone. It took me two-and-a-half hours, with plenty of coaching from Randy, to get down to the bottom. I knew I didn't have the ability to turn or stop exactly when I wanted to. Nearing the bottom, Randy said we should go again. No way. He didn't realize it was only minutes before the hill closed for the day. There was just enough time for him to take a run. I waited at the bottom of the hill.

It wasn't until I was about half an hour outside of Hope that the first headache hit me. It was so powerful that I had to pull over. We were out of cell range, away from civilization. There was no one to help out here. Cars racing past wouldn't know we were in trouble. I drove to Hope as Randy told me I was just stressed. I followed the signs to the hospital. Unbelievably, we were processed and waiting for a doctor in about 10 minutes. Were we really still in B.C.? I must have hit my head harder than I thought.
A nurse brought me two Tylenol and two Ibuprofen. All that? Really? I took them and we waited. Several ambulances came in. Hope is located at the confluence of the Fraser and Coquihalla rivers between Merritt heading into B.C.'s Interior, Princeton, heading towards the Kootenays, and the Lower Mainland. You have to get through Hope to get pretty much anywhere else, so one would expect the Fraser Canyon Hospital to be busy. When the doctor did see me, he told me I had a concussion. He wasn't too worried about me because the impact had been longer than four hours before. It wasn't the best time to teach Randy to drive a standard and we couldn't find one of my sons, so I drove home. When I got home, I saw that the information sheet from the hospital said I shouldn't drive. Oops.
It's definitely time to teach Randy to drive a standard--and to buy a helmet. Anyone know of a sale on ski helmets?